Your friend enthusiastically drags you to the dancefloor. Even though you're getting so uncoordinated that you feel like you might get bounced if you draw any attention, you let yourself get swept away.
They pull you close for more intimacy, but also subtle support as you're not holding yourself up entirely well. You're not the only one intoxicated in this crowd, and you get jostled around a bit, but it's still nice. There's still a strong current of rhythm, and liquor, and arousal pulsing through you as your friend shimmies their hips against yours.
They're shorter than you, and as they turn their head you spot a trail of fading hickies heading from their neck into their tee. You're too drunk to stop yourself from trying to leave a fresh mark. They giggle, but instead of letting you, they slip out from under your shoulder. You almost topple over, being suddenly solely responsible for your own bodyweight and balance. Shit, maybe you're getting a bit wasted.
Instead of abandoning you, though, they tug you in the direction of a more private little booth and park you there. You don't get a chance to ask where they're going before they disappear back into the crowd. You feel the sneaky tendrils of guilt snaking through your guts as you're left to your own devices, and resolve to go apologize once you've sobered up a bit.
They reappear before that has any chance of happening, though, with two tall drinks in their hands. After depositing them on the table, they turn on their heel and leave before you can get a word out. Confused, you start slowly sipping the drink they presumably left you, forgetting about the sobering up part of your plan.
As you're getting a good ways through your drink you're getting a bit lost inside yourself and you don't notice that your friend is back until they're shoving a shot glass in your hand and telling you to drink up. You do it on reflex.
"You were getting so frisky, so I thought we should even the playing field a bit. Here have another."
The next shot is down your throat before you really have a chance to process what's being said. You finish your drink as a chaser and try your best to focus on your friend's face. It keeps slipping away from you as the room starts spinning more and more. Wasn't there something you were supposed to do? Something you were supposed to say? Your head is getting so heavy to hold up.
The other drink they brought over earlier is now in your hand. Did you take it or did they put it there? You're completely losing track of things as more of the liquor starts making its way through your system. Your lids are getting heavy when your friend climbs into your lap and asks you if you wouldn't like to continue what you'd started earlier.
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