Claire laid in the floor in front of her couch, watching Ville sway drunkenly to the loud rock music pumping through the stereo system, whiskey in hand sloshing perilously close to the rim of the glass.

She giggled. She might be a little drunk, but Ville was smashed. There would be no walking home for him tonight. He would have to sleep over at her apartment. The thought made her half giddy, and half anxious as hell. She didn't have a spare bed and her couch wasn't even big enough for her to sleep on, his long body would never fit.

"Dance with me!" He stumbled over to her and pulled her up from the floor, the weight shift almost making him lose his balance. He set his now empty glass down on her coffee table with a slightly too loud 'clank!'.

As they shifted back to the middle of her living room the cigarette in his hand made it's way to his lips and his hands clasped her hips. They swayed to the rock music that Ville had turned on. Well, Claire swayed, Ville stumbled.

"Drunk much?" She asked as he spun her.

"Oh, darlin', you haven't seen nothing yet. If I'm still standing, I'm not drunk enough." His words were slurred, but Claire had gotten pretty good at deciphering his drunken ramblings.

They waltzed through Claire's living room until Ville finally admitted defeat to the alcohol and needed to sit down.

He put his arm around her. "Claire, darlin'. You know I love you right?" Ville was giving her an intense look and Claire nodded. "I think that we should be more than friends. Like, lovers, or something." He slurred.

Claire's heart was racing but she knew not to take anything Ville said while drunk at face value. "Why don't you tell me that in the morning, when you're sober."

Ville nodded and Claire figured that would be the last she heard of that.

XxXxX

The next morning Ville was gone before I woke up. He'd ended up sleeping in my bed, but it wasn't nearly as much fun as I thought it would be because he'd gotten way too drunk and passed out and I had to stay up and make sure he was still breathing every hour or so. And, he'd snored. So I'd ended up being up all night and sleeping all day, and when I'd woken there was nothing left of Ville except a tshirt thrown across one of my kitchen chairs.

But I wasn't dwelling. It was another night, another party, and I was following Ville to the bar for what would only be our third or fourth drink of the night. Ville had stayed suprisingly sober all night, and insisted I do the same.

I watched Ville walk in front of me. He looked dark and sexy as ever in destroyed jeans and chunky boots. I felt pretty sexy myself in black leggings, my favorite hooker boots, and a black lace bandeau top.

Ville led us to a back corner of the bar and sat down on a barstool, pulling the one next to him out for me to sit on. "What's up, Zilla? You're not acting like your usual alcoholic self today."

"Wanted to talk to you before we got smashed." I took the seat next to him and ordered a fireball shot from the female bartender that was hovering near us, giving Ville sultry looks.

"I, uh..." Ville stopped awkwardly as the bartender returned with my drink and I took it from her, resisting the urge to smash her face into the bar. "I wanted to let you know that I remember what I said the other night, about us being together. And I meant it."

I blinked at him, not sure what to say. "So you want to like, be my boyfriend...?"

"Pretty much." Ville grinned.

"Okay then." I smiled back at him, took my shot and stood up. "Let's dance, boyfriend."