Doubt

Prologue

The violet lights were pulsing, the loud music just as. I felt my head swim, causing everything in my presence to tilt and sway. The empty shot glass on my table seemed to slide across it. I reached my hand to grab it, misjudged the distance, missed. Shit, I am drunk, I thought. It was a long time ago.

I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

And then I saw him.

He was standing at the bar with a group of his friends, a heaping pile of shot glasses and beer glasses and God-only-knew-what glasses between them on the bar. And they were standing upright no problem, chatting and laughing. Clearly, they were more used to partying than I was. And drinking. I felt ridiculous being in such bad shape after one shot. But despite my sorry state, I could discern he had an olive green shirt that he hadn't tucked in, black jeans and his long hair in a high ponytail. Fuck, he looks good. I lay my arms on the table, rested my chin on them and just stared. One of his friends seemed to notice, because I could see him snigger and shove Hashirama, pointing at me. Hashirama looked over.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

God, this was embarrassing.

But to my great surprise, he smiled a crooked smile, took his glass of red wine and started moving towards my table.

Fuck.

I can't do this.

I can't do any of this shit.

What in the world do I do now?