"Gimme, gimme, gimme," I said, holding my arms out for the bottle of whiskey. We were currently in my room, both of us sitting on the floor, talking, and drinking whiskey. We started by playing drinking games. The classic. Truth or drink, never have I ever, shit like that. Now, we're just drinking and laughing at every little thing.

"Wow, whiskey hits you hard," he laughed, giving me the bottle. "You know you're not waking up tomorrow, right?" he chuckled.

"Oh, yes! Yes, I know," I sighed, leaning my head against the wall before taking another sip from the bottle.

"So, what will you tell your friends?" he asked. He was for sure soberer than me. I think he just doesn't get drunk or something. It's like he's immune.

"That I dot grunk," I mumbled.

"Dot grunk?" he laughed.

"That I," I cleared my throat, "Got drunk," I grinned.

"Yeah, you got drunk in Vegas and will waste an entire day of your holiday in bed," he laughed.

I pouted, "Mm, that doesn't sound very fun," I mumbled.

"Exactly, so I say tomorrow we all leave for lunch and then go to the stratosphere rides, hmm?"

"The sfratophere rides," I slurred.

"After lunch, okay?" he laughed. I nodded dumbly. "I think that's enough for you, you're not even talking right," he said, leaning forward to take the bottle from me.

"Ah." I shook my head, lifting the bottle above my head. "That's for me," I grinned.

"No, Bella," he said slowly and warningly as if I was a child.

"Yes, Noah," I giggled.

"Bella, come on," he sighed, sitting up on his knees, slowly shifting closer.

"No," I laughed.

"Give me the bottle," he chuckled.

"No," I shook my head.

"Bella," he said slowly.

"Noah," I mocked.

He grabbed my hand, pulling it down while straddling me before he took the bottle out of my hand, sealed the lid shut tightly, and put it on the ground. I grabbed it and tried opening it but I was too drunk to put all my strength into opening it so I just gave up.

"That's not fair," I pouted.

"I can't have you too drunk to function," he shrugged. Once I started opening it, putting all my strength into it, he snatched the bottle and closed it again, even tighter this time.

I shoved him back, "You're mean!"

"And you're drunk," he chuckled, tossing the bottle on the bed.

I clicked my tongue, leaning my head against the wall. I stared at him, my brain not functioning remotely correctly and my body exhausted and aching. I laughed, looking at our position. "That's not very appropriate," I giggled.

He rolled his eyes before climbing off of me. He stood up slowly, blinking slowly to compose himself. He held his hands out and I begrudgingly placed mine in his and he hoisted me up. He sat me on the bed before grabbing the bottle and putting it on the coffee table.

"I want bourbon."

"You can't get any more bourbon."

"But I want bourbon."

"No more bourbon."

"Bourbon."

"No bourbon."

"Bourbon?"

"No bourbon, love," he chuckled. He pulled my shoes off before grabbing my hands and pulling me up to my feet. "Are you capable of changing yourself?" he asked.

"No," I shook my head, laughing.

"Okay, then you're going to bed," he said. He held me, one arm around my waist to keep me in place while he pulled the covers back with his free hand and adjusted the pillows. Then he scooped me up and tucked me in bed, flicking the lights off.

I don't remember anything after that, but what could have happened? I probably just fell asleep.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and holding the sides of my head as if I was holding it together so it doesn't fall apart. That wouldn't be a pretty sight. Bourbon is just never a good idea, is it? I forced my eyes open, squinting under the blinding sun peeking through the blinds.

I rolled over so my back would face the sun but when I saw what was beside me, I think I went into cardiac arrest or something. Beside me, lay a very shirtless Noah, fast asleep. He was lying on his stomach, his cheek on the pillow, his arms under it while he snored faintly.

What the hell did we do last night?

I've known him for three days. Now four, actually. And I'm waking up beside him in bed? With him half-naked.

Or full, who knows?

I told myself to shut up and poked his arm. "Noah," I whispered. When he still didn't move, I began poking his shoulder blade. "Noah," I said a little louder, shaking him. I poked his cheek, "Hello?"

He stirred and rubbed his eyes, slowly opening them. "Oh, Jesus," he sighed, into the pillow.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

He chuckled, propping himself on his elbows while turning to me, "You wouldn't let me leave," he shrugged.

"What?"

"Oh, you don't remember, do you?" I shook my head in response. "What exactly is the last thing you remember?" he chuckled.

"Um- drinking bourbon. Lots of it," I answered, grabbing the water bottle to find a solution to my dry, aching throat.

He laughed, lying on his back, resting his arm over his eyes. "After a lot of effort, I finally got the bottle from you and then put it over..." he trailed off, looking around, "There." He pointed at the coffee table. I followed his gaze and sure enough, the bottle was sitting right there. "And then I put you in bed but once I turned the lights off, you wouldn't let me go," he sighed.

Oh.

"Why?" I frowned.

"I don't know, you just wouldn't let me go. For the first fifteen minutes, you just grabbed on and wouldn't let go. After that, you started mumbling but I literally have no idea what you were saying," he chuckled.

"You tucked me in?" I asked.

"Yeah, I turned all the lights off and everything," he replied.

I facepalmed, laughing because not only was it funny that someone as smart as he didn't figure it out, and also because I was embarrassed to tell him the truth.

"Bella," he said slowly.

"Yes?" I looked up at him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mumbled, "You sleep with a night light?" He looked at me wide-eyed.

"No," I laughed.

"Oh my god, you definitely do," he nodded, "That's why you wouldn't let me leave, and I was stupid enough to not even think of it," he said, facepalming.

"I don't sleep with a night light!" I whined.

"Yes, you do," he laughed.

"No, I don't!"

"You do."

"I don't!"

"You do."

"No, I-"

He grabbed my wrists and pulled me closer, looking down at me. "You sleep with a night light on. Admit it," he smirked.

"I don't," I whined.

"Don't you?"

"No," I huffed, pulling my wrists out of his hand and rolling over, my back facing him. He grabbed my arm and spun me around and when he got frustrated by me constantly resisting, he climbed on top and hovered over me, pinning my wrists on the bed on either side of my head. "Noah, get off!" I yelled through my laughter.

"First, admit that you sleep with a night light," he chuckled.

"No!" I shrieked.

"Bella," he said slowly.

"No," I shook my head, laughing hysterically, getting ticklish when he grabbed my waist.

"Why do you sleep with a night light on?" he chuckled.

"Oh, my god, Noah. Get off!" I groaned.

"First tell me why you sleep with a light on," he demanded.

"Because I'm scared," I huffed.

"Of the dark?" he smirked.

"No," I whined, "Of accidentally hurting myself in the dark. I mean, what if I get up to go to the bathroom and fall and break my nose? Or fracture my ankle or something? I don't want that again or what if I get up to drink water and spill it all over myself? Oh, my god, Noah, get off of me!" I yelled.

"You sleep with a light on so you don't trip? Or pour water on yourself?" he laughed, "You're scared of the dark," he nodded.

"No, I'm not," I whined.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"Make it through one night with all the lights off."

"Noah!"

"Or I'm not getting off."

"Okay, okay, I'll do it just- please get off," I laughed.

"How do I know you're not cheating?" He narrowed his eyes at me, still not getting off.

"How can you guarantee it?" I asked.

"You tell me," he leaned in.

"You can stay here? I don't freaking know," I shrugged.

"And sleep on the floor?" he asked sarcastically.

"Or the coffee table," I chuckled. He lifted an eyebrow at me. "Or the bed, Jesus Christ, just share the bed."

"Okay, I'll drop by at midnight. Or is that past your bedtime?"

"Noah," I said through gritted teeth.

He laughed before finally getting off of me and sitting down on the right side of the bed while I stayed on the left. "You're not getting through the night," he laughed, sitting against the headboard.

"I so am," I scoffed.

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