“You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s head home,” I said, gently guiding him.
Lyra rose with a smile and said, “Yes, it’s getting late. I should be heading out too; it’s tough to catch a taxi in the suburbs.”
Theron, who had just begun to move, halted at her words. He shrugged off my hand and turned to her.
“I’ll give you a ride. I can’t just let you wander off on your own,” he said, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“But I’m on my own, too,” I pointed out.
As Theron heard this, his face clouded over, and the tension in his expression sharpened.
“Lyra just got back from overseas; she’s not familiar with this part of town,” he uttered, calm and composed.
My hand, frozen in mid-air, slowly fell as I silently watched them drift away. His friends trickled out one by one, leaving me alone inside the room.
As I was left alone, I seized an unopened bottle of alcohol from the table and slipped to a dim, secluded corner of the bar.
Recalling how Theron had once mocked girls who drank, I took a defiant sip from the bottle, daring him to pass judgment. Not long after, the liquor's warmth spread through me, and my vision grew hazy.
Right afterward, a youthful, boyish face came into view.