Thomas (31)

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It was the night of the bonfire

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It was the night of the bonfire. Everyone had been awake for hours, dancing and laughing. Thomas had been following you around all night, like a lost puppy. He was drunk. Completely and utterly drunk. At one point he tripped, and just laid there, facedown in the grass.

"Thomas, you okay there?" You laughed, crouching down next to him. He lifted his head up.

"What? Oh, ye-yeah....I'm fine. Don't you worry there you little potato." He said, poking your nose.

"Potato?" You laughed. He nodded.

"Yeah, you're a cute little potato." He slurred, patting the top of your head.

"Alright, you're so drunk right now. Come on, we're getting you to bed." You said, grabbing his arm.

"I'm, I'm not drunk. Do I look drunk?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. You held his arm, leading him back to the hammocks. His foot caught on a rock and he started to trip, but you caught him.

"You know, it's a good thing I like you." You joked, helping to steer him away from a tree he nearly walked into.

"Huh? You like me?" He paused, turning to look at you. "I have a secret...I like someone too." He said quietly. You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really, who is it?" You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you. He smiled, pointing at you and winking.

"You, little potato, I like you."

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