"Focus on me,"

Though Chris was across the room, slowly drinking and chatting with a couple of people, he kept his gaze often on him.

At first, it was the usual—Sky being the center of attention, girls and guys alike orbiting him like satellites. But then came the drinks. One beer after another. A glass of wine. Another.

Sky looked like he would throw up soon. But whenever he made to leave, someone was trying to get his attention. Make him drink. Make him talk. Make him laugh.

And the idiot remained there.

Chris's stomach twisted as the memory of that last big party resurfaced, the one where someone had slipped something into Sky's drink. That night had nearly ended in a disaster. His worry deepened when he saw a new group of girls approach Sky, giggling and offering him more drinks. Sky was already too far gone.

His face looked like a tomato.

He looked adorable, but not for the good reason.