Margot froze, vomit dripping down the cheap red vinyl on her heels. He froze with her, a look of utter shock and embarrassment plastered onto his face.

“I’m so…” he started.

“No, really its okay. Really,” Margot insisted, “Here, let me help you.” She reached out to steady him as he swayed, dizzy and green-faced. He stumbled and they fell backward together into the wall of the hallway, his face landing right into her neckline.

“I swear I didn’t have anything to drink,” he mumbled into her dress as he caught himself. Margot assisted him as he finally came to, standing upright.

“Did I crush you?” He asked politely.

“Are you sure there isn’t a flask of sangria hidden somewhere in your pants? You smell all fruity and alcoholic…” Margot asked.

“No! Of course there isn’t. I didn’t want to come out smelling like vomit so I swiped the can of air freshner in the bathroom…Is it that obvious?” He said, looking down at himself, disgusted. Margot laughed, then sighed down at her vomit covered shoes.