I toss back another shot even though I know it’s a fucking terrible idea.

Everything has a blur to it and I know that as soon as I lie down, the whole god damn place is going to spin like crazy.

I poke at the bar with my finger, hopeful that it’s somehow got less solid wood feeling in the past hour so that I might just be able to crash here rather than dragging my ass upstairs to bed.

I glance around the bar, lit only by a couple of dim lights now.

I feel sick – like about-to-chunder type of sick.

I know I shouldn’t throw up in here—sending home all the staff so that I could go on a drinking bender means that if I vomit, I’ll have to clean it up. No one is going to swoop in and save the day with a mop and bucket.

I’m all alone.

I might always be alone.

I reach for the bottle of bourbon, but the damn thing is empty.

“Stupid bourbon,” I slur as I nudge the bottle away with my hand.

I contemplate going behind the bar and finding another bottle of something even stronger, but that would require moving, and I’m not particularly well equipped for moving right now.

“Oh shit. Where did everyone go?”

The female voice behind me should startle me, but I guess I’m way too drunk to be taken by surprise.

“Holy crap, how long have I been in the bathroom?”

“Sweetie,” I slur as I spin around incredibly unsteady on the bar stool. “Don’t ask me… I don’t even know what day it is.”

It takes a minute for the room to stop swaying, but when it does, my eyes land on a woman in a bright red dress.

Now, I might be drunk as fuck, but I’m still with it enough to know this chick is hot.

Not my usual type, but right now I need a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman about as much as I need a hole in the head.

“Damn. You look smokin’,” I drawl.

“And you look wasted,” she replies with a grin and a shake of her head.

I try to lean back against the bar, in a cool, relaxed, non-drunk fashion and fail spectacularly, only just managing to somehow stay on the stool and avoid hitting the ground.

She walks closer and I can hear the click of her heels against the wood flooring.

“Well, drunk guy, it’s been thrilling talking to you, but would you mind telling me how I get out of here?”

“Can’t.” I smirk. “We’re shut. You’re stuck in here forever. With me.”

She laughs at my pathetic attempt at picking her up.

“Nice try, dreamboat, are you planning on sleeping on that stool tonight?”

I point upwards and nearly fall off my seat again.

“Jesus,” she says as she reaches out to help steady me.

“I live upstairs,” I slur.

“Oh lord, you’ll be lucky to make it two steps without tripping over your own feet with the state you’re in.”

She’s so close to me now, she’s holding onto my arm like I’m a baby who needs the help to sit up.

I grin up at her. She’s really pretty and she smells so good.

“You’re hot.”

She shakes her head at me and laughs. “And surprisingly enough, you’re still drunk.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I drawl.

“Drowning your sorrows?”

“How’d you know?”

“People don’t usually celebrate alone, so…”

I blink my eyes together hard a few times. Everything is getting even blurrier.

“I need bed,” I announce as I try to get to my feet.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” she mumbles as she tries her best to help me stand.

“Go out the front,” I tell her as the room really starts to spin. “Locks… on… its… own.”

I take a step and it doesn’t go well; the ground feels like it’s trying to suck me in. I wonder if maybe I should let it.

“I’ll be gine.” I chuckle at myself. “I started to say good and then changed to fine.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she mutters. “C’mon, I’ll help you get upstairs.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist tryna get me into bed.” I try to wink at her, but I don’t think it works.

“Oh yeah, you’re totally irresistible right now,” she says as she drapes my arm over her shoulders and supports far more of my weight than she should. “Where are we heading, dreamboat?”

I point at the staircase on the far side of the room, and she huffs out a breath.

“Of course we are.”

I open and shut my mouth a few times. My tongue feels fuzzy.

“Lizzie…”

“Katie,” she corrects me as we amble across the room.

“No, no, Lizzie,” I ramble.

“Katie,” she repeats. “My name is Katie.”

“No, Lizzie,” I say again. “Not even a little bit.”

I bury my face in her dark curly hair and breathe in deeply.

That’s the last thing I remember.