3

I went up to the second floor and sat on one of the puffs there, probably orange, since I was not very aware of what was going on around me. Only that amount of alcohol was enough to get me ready for the night; I was terrible at drinking and anything went down like a bucket of water.

A few meters away from me, they were having a shots competition and there were two men, each at one end of the table. There was the blond guy that I recognized, he was the famous Matt, quarterback of the soccer team and in front of him there was another one that caught my attention; his hair was in gray tones, almost black and his eyes were also black. His hair wasn't long enough to cover his eyebrows, but the furtive look he was sending to the green-eyed guy froze me in place.

I'd never seen him around college before, if I had, I probably would have remembered him. Besides the fact that he was good at remembering faces, he had a look that could leave you in your place and that strange gleam in his eyes made me curious. Although I wasn't the only one who had noticed it, as there was an army of hungry animals behind.

I didn't lose my eyes on him for a second, as if my life was a camera and I had just set the slow motion; he had a white shirt that wrapped around his broad shoulders and torso, he looked even bigger and more imposing when he raised one of his arms to take each shot and I remained like a statue, as if that gesture had become part of a loop engraved in my head.

When he stood up to take the last shot, taking for granted that he had beaten the star of the night, I was amazed by the height of the man.

I shook my head not wanting to think how I would look if I stood next to him, straight.

Matt disappeared to the restrooms, I imagined to dump all the alcohol he had ingested in one go; it might give him an alcoholic coma if he let too much time pass.

I sighed and kept my eyes on the gray-eyed man, hoping he would also go to the bathroom, but he didn't at any time and I narrowed my eyes so as not to lose him, but he had moved quite far away from the people present and even several women moved away from him when they saw him walking strangely. He looked dizzy and was holding on to everything around him so as not to fall.

No one was going to help him, he was probably trying to stop his death and no one was paying attention to him.

There was the interest of the animals chasing him.

I snorted and rolled my eyes as he fell somewhere and I lost sight of him.

"Alcoholics," I said to myself, as I walked toward that dark corner where I had seen him fall.

I passed two people and there he was, lying on the floor, his back pressed against a couch, but he looked fine by his eyes and how little strength he had trying to get up.

I crouched down to his face level and my nostrils were flooded with a very manly smell, mixed with what was probably Whiskey and tequila. I forced him with what little strength I had to turn to the side, so I could help him vomit; there was no time, no strength to take him to a bathroom.

That was probably the grossest thing I had to do in my life and the future doctor was my friend, so to be trying to save a stranger from death was awesome.

After a few minutes, sitting on the couch and drinking a bottle of water still from the chiras, because I was drunk, I crossed my arms.

Now I was supposed to leave him?

Could I with my conscience?

"I'm fucking great," I heard him say and he pointed at me without even opening his eyes wide.

"You almost died, you idiot," I replied, "I should have let you..."

"There you are, Iah," I was interrupted by a raspy voice behind me and I gasped as I saw a shadow almost twice my person appear by my side. He grabbed the drunk's arm and his dark gaze fell on me; in a second my legs faltered and every faction of his face was quizzical about my presence, but he watched me from head to toe. He had another bottle of water in his hands, in case that man needed more and it was clear he could smell the vomit, as well as his shirt had managed to stain.

I preferred not to make a move, as if that way he couldn't do anything to me or wouldn't notice me. He had a tattoo at the end of his face, reaching his ear and from the collar of the blazer he was wearing, a seemingly larger one was noticeable.

They both had the same nose.

Were they related?

"Heroin," said the guy I had helped, catching me off guard as he wrapped his free arm around me and glued me to his body completely.

My eyes widened like saucers and I tried to pull away, why I felt the fabric of my dress ride up to the point where I felt cold on my buttocks and he, even though he was finger food, was about to die from an alcoholic coma for not knowing how to control himself and was engulfed in vomit. And to top it off, he had lifted me off the ground with only one arm, which made me even more vulnerable.

I pushed him off, putting my hands on his face and the man pulling him also helped.

I wiped my hands on his shirt before he walked away and the black-eyed one kept watching everything I did; I rolled my eyes and walked away. I didn't want to encounter the same situation with anyone anymore; all that was enough to sober me up again.