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Summary
“Charlesss,” Carlos slurred as he tried to lean closer to his teammate.
“Yes, Carlos?” Charles replied, smirking a little.
“I wanna makeout with someone,” he hiccuped. Charles nudged the glass of water in his hand, reminding him to drink. He took a gulp and sat up as much as he could.
“You have your pick of anyone in here tonight,” Charles responded, vaguely motioning out over the sea of people beneath the pink and purple and blue lights of the club. “You could go stand in the middle of the room and a line would form.”
“Not just anyone,” Carlos shook his head and downed the rest of the water in the glass. Charles grabbed it and moved to get another one from the bar when Carlos stopped him with a hand around his wrist. He looked down into Carlos’ shimmering puppy dog eyes, glossy with inebriation. “Lando.”