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I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze, and even though I spaced them out, my stomach is like a washing machine, and my head’s foggy. I feel like if I go on one more ride, I might throw up, and I’m seriously regretting the four drinks I consumed in the past two hours. I’m so not myself and very aware of that warm cozy feeling when alcohol takes the sensible part of your brain and throws it in a dumpster full of feathers. I’m beyond tipsy, and my ability to reason and be logical is dancing on pink fluffy clouds.

 “Come on, one more…. for me.” Bryant tugs Greta along by the sleeve and tries to coax her to get on a massively high ride that throws you into the sky. It’s a hard limit for me, and I know Jyeon hates heights, so he has no chance. Greta, my little daredevil, has been keeping Bryant company on most of his choices, and I stuck to the moderate ones that don’t scare me half to death. He’s bossing he