The yacht pulsed with the heart of the party, its bass thrumming through Camilla's slightly-tipsy body. Colored lights flashed, momentarily blinding her, but she swayed on, eyes closed, trusting her legs to keep her upright.

"Let's go do some shots!" Aubrey, her best friend, shrieked, tugging her across the crowded dance floor. It was Aubrey's 18th birthday, a 'classy' affair on her father's yacht. Camilla, however, was already regretting it, anticipating tomorrow's hangover and looming classes.

She stumbled to the railings, gripping them tightly, trying to steady herself against the combined assault of wine and the ocean's rocking. The dizziness was overwhelming.

Aubrey, meanwhile, was flirting shamelessly with the bartender, ordering four tequila shots. Camilla watched, wincing at the first bitter taste of the shot. 'My sight was spinning,' she thought, downing the burning liquid, finding a perverse pleasure in its aftereffects.

Aubrey vanished with the bartender, leaving Camilla adrift. "What the hell, Aubrey!" she muttered, frustration bubbling up. She longed for her quiet room, her sketches, her dream of fashion design—a dream her parents had crushed, forcing her into Business instead.

Her legs threatened to give out. She needed to sit, to lie down. Stumbling, she found a door, its cold steel handle a welcome anchor. The room inside was dark, but a sliver of moonlight revealed a bed. Heaven. She peeled off her dress and collapsed onto it.

'This is heaven...' she thought, the words slurring in her mind. She'd never drunk so much, never felt so utterly lost. A soft creak, then footsteps. Aubrey? She drifted into sleep, uncaring. Then, a warm sensation against her back, an unexpected weight, and a mouth claiming hers. The world spun, but this time, it was a different kind of dizzy.