As I said before, sometimes you have a good alcohol tolerance.

Sometimes. Not all the time.

It either lifts your spirits or turns you into a blabbering mess.

You'd still be aware of things happening around like when you're sober, just more confident.

Currently, you were asking the coconut tree on the pavement how it was so tall and why there is an average of about two coconut related deaths per year.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you're good for the scalp but I have a love-hate relationship with you," you said, looking at the coconut tree beside you.

The road was empty and the shops were closed to have anyone listen to your small rant.

"Gawd, you're ignoring me," you added as the wind blew.

You were sitting on the pavement with your knees up, the effect of the alcohol toning down and making you realize that you were not in Pocahontas, and the coconut tree was not Grandmother Willow.

Staring at the empty beer bottle you had bought after three shots of whiskey. Beer on tap was only when you were staying.

Whiskey reduces your blood pressure and it is against bad cholesterol and blood clots, both of it lowering the risk of stroke or heart attack.

Drinking wine, dark beer, and whiskey moderately helps to reduce the risk of heart attack.

Also, you had dinner before.

If your stomach is empty when you start drinking, the alcohol will enter your bloodstream faster. You may feel the effects of your drinks quickly, making it harder to manage your drinking.

It's a good idea to eat before your first drink, and while you are drinking.

So you were telling yourself that you didn't make a mistake in the routine you had for your drink.

But why had you gone out of your way in the first place?

Because some handsome looking man disrupted your daily routine without even talking a word to you.

He always had this intimidating aura around him. Like, always.

Even when he says nothing, it's there. Even when he's just staring at someone, even when he gets down from a car. Even when he's standing right in front of you.

"It's you," you mumbled, tilting your head up slightly so that you could look at him. "Are you here to ruin my drinking routine now?"

Oddly, for you, that question only brought a very small smile to his face.

"Shubman Gill, you can smile," you noted to yourself loudly as the technically-still-a-stranger crouched down to your level.

Good, because your neck would've started to hurt and him kneeling down would've been weird.

"On the rocks," Shubman looked at the trademark on the bottle before averting his eyes back to you. "They have margaritas. Have you tried them?"

"Maybe next time," you answered, looking directly into his unwavering eyes.

This was your first conversation. He'd keep it in his heart forever.

"You have nice eyes," you noted again and he smiled full on. "And dimples too."

And if that was not enough to make the feeling in Shubman's chest get stronger. They say Eve was made from Adam's rib.

You stood up from the pavement, and the mafia boss followed, watching as you walked to the trash can five feet behind and dropped the bottle there.

Five seconds. You stood there, and then you threw up into the trash can.

Shubman was immediately by your side, holding your hair back and patting your back despite the retching.

He continued till you were done and aspirating, hands on your knees before you stood up straight.

A water bottle was handed by one of his men and he took off the cap before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you said, still breathing heavily as you got the bottle, drinking the water and handing it back to him. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"That's fine," Shubman replied as the man got the bottle from him. "Do you want me to take you home?"

He asked and you stared at him, thinking until you decided.

"I'll take the first car," you finally said and started walking in the direction of the cars on the other lane. "And sorry to you too."

You gave the coconut tree a small pat before walking to said car and Shubman followed.

"Do you always move around town with at least three cars?" You asked and he nodded as you both stopped in front of the door to the backseat.

You looked at him, and he looked at you, as if he would rob all the stars from the sky, if it meant you would always be surrounded by love and happiness, and never once doubt the light in your heart while he thanked you for your existence.

Should've never read that meme. It's giving you these ideas.

"Look away," you mumbled and no, he did not. "I said, look away," you added a small huff at the end, raising your hand to turn his face to the side, away from you.

But you stopped once your hand made contact with his cheek.

It was so soft. Like the wheat batter for parathas.

"Shit," you mumbled again before taking your hand back.

Shubman Gill has a beautiful face. And beautiful eyes that you want nothing to do other than look into them forever.

When he stood in sunlight the day you first met him, they were like molten chocolate. He looked like an angel straight out of Eden.

But he is no Adam. He isn't an angel. He wasn't made of all the good in the world.

In heaven, he's Samael. In perdition, he's Lucifer.

And the harbinger of his insanity, you're Lilith.