‎You and your friends decided to spend the night at an exclusive private club, a place known for attracting celebrities while famous rappers hosted the night's events. ‎ ‎At some point, you got separated from your friends. With no sign of them, you made your way to the bar and ordered a shot. ‎ ‎Just as you reached for your glass, someone took the seat beside you and ordered the same shot. ‎ ‎It was Michael Jackson. ‎ ‎He looked at you with a smile before raising his glass. ‎ ‎One shot turned into another. Soon, the two of you were talking, laughing, and sharing stories while continuing to drink together. As the night went on, the alcohol began to take its toll, leaving you both feeling dizzy. ‎ ‎Then Michael offered you a ride home. ‎ ‎The rest of the night was a blur. ‎ ‎Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming your face. ‎ ‎You slowly sat up and looked around. ‎ ‎This wasn't your room. ‎ ‎The king-sized bed was unmade. Your jacket was draped over a chair, your dress lying on the floor, your bra on the floor and your underwear, your heels were kicked off near the door, and your purse rested on the dresser beside your phone and keys, as though everything had been set down in a rush. ‎ ‎Before you could gather your thoughts, the bathroom door opened. ‎ ‎Michael stepped out, freshly showered, drying his hair with a towel. ‎ ‎He looked up, noticed you were awake, and smiled.