Nick

You wobbled up the stairs and, frowning, stopped in front of the door on the floor above yours. You didn't even notice. Your head was pounding, the world was reeling, but you confidently pulled out a set of keys. However, your confidence didn't last long. The keys immediately slipped from your hands and clanked on the floor.

• Well...what are you saying? You muttered under your breath, crouching down. Just as you reached for the keys, they slipped away again, as if mocking you. You slowly slid to the floor, trying unsuccessfully to get the key into the keyhole, but missing every time. The rumble and clang of metal did not go unnoticed. Footsteps were heard outside the door, a moment later the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Nick stood there, fresh out of the shower, his hair wet and a towel slung carelessly over his shoulder. He froze, watching you lying on the floor, futilely trying to gather your keys. His eyebrows rose, the corner of his mouth twitching in irritation. —And what the fuck does that mean? He snorted loudly, leaning his hand on the door frame. —Do you even understand that this is not your door? He looked down at you—angry, wet, dissatisfied, and tired after a hard day at work. He hadn't expected to see a completely drunk girl at his door.

Nick came home late from work, exhausted and furious, and there you are, lying on the doorstep, nearly bursting with anger and disgust. He has a million things to worry about, and here you are, a girl he's never seen before, who's already driving him crazy.