Drunk

Chapter 5

I told myself I was only going for one drink.

That was a lie.

I wore the dress to make myself mad, Black, Tight. Shorter than anything I owned. If Rubben saw me in it, he’d lose his mind. That was the point.

Kate kept saying it all night. “You look hot, Lia. Like, stop-traffic hot. That guy Rubben won’t know what hit him.”

But Rubben wasn’t here.

I was. At a club that smelled like sweat and cheap perfume. Music so loud I could feel it in my teeth. Lights flashing red, blue, red, blue.

And I was drunk.

Not falling-down drunk. Just enough that the world felt soft at the edges. Just enough that I didn’t care when a guy with kind eyes asked me to dance.

He wasn’t Rubben.

That was why I said yes.

His name was Mark. Or Matt. I didn’t catch it. He was nice. He didn’t call me tiny. He didn’t look at me like I was a problem he had to solve. He bought me water when I asked for it. He kept his hands polite.

But when he leaned in and asked if I wanted to get some air, I said yes for the wrong reason.

I said yes because I was angry.

Angry that Rubben had fixed my dad’s life with one phone call. Angry that he’d held me after and I hadn’t wanted him to let go. Angry that he had Mara, and I had nothing.

So I walked out with Mark-or-Matt.

The air outside was cold. It cleared my head a little. Too little.

“You okay?” he asked. “You look sad.”

I wasn’t sad. I was stupid.

“Can we sit?” I said. “Just for a minute.”

He nodded. We got into his car. It was clean. It smelled like pine. He didn’t try anything. He just turned the heat on because I was shivering.

And that’s when it hit me.

What I was doing.

I was in a stranger’s car at midnight. My phone was dead. My bag was at Kate’s. My head was pounding. My mouth tasted like bad decisions and lime.

_God, Lia. What are you doing?_

I reached for the door.

That’s when another car pulled up. Fast. No lights. Just tires on pavement and a door slamming.

“Lia.”

I knew that voice.

I’d know it anywhere.

Rubben stood in the street. He wasn’t in a suit. Just a black shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he’d left the house running. His hair was messy. His jaw was set hard.

He didn’t look mad.

He looked worse than mad.

He looked calm.

The kind of calm that happens before a storm.

“Get out of the car,” he said.

Mark-or-Matt went pale. “Hey, man, I swear, we were just—”

Rubben didn’t look at him. He didn’t even blink. His eyes were only on me. “Now, Lia.”

My legs didn’t work right, but I got out anyway. The night air was cold on my bare skin. The dress suddenly felt like a mistake. The club was three blocks away. I could still hear the music, but it felt far away. Like it belonged to a different life.

Rubben closed the car door. Mark-or-Matt drove off without looking back.

Then it was just us.

Me and him. Under a streetlight. At midnight.

My heels were killing me. My hair was stuck to my neck. And Rubben was looking at me like I’d just torn his world in half.

“Who let you out of the house like that, tiny?”

His voice was low. Too low.

I hated that word. I hated that it still made my stomach drop.

“Kate,” I said. My voice was rough. “Kate let me.”

“Kate.” He said her name like he was putting it in a file. Like Kate was about to have a very bad week.

“You don’t get to do that,” I said. The anger was back. The tequila was gone, but the anger was wide awake. “You don’t get to show up here and act like”

“Like what?” He took one step closer. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap and something dark. “Like I care if you get yourself hurt? Like I care if my stepsister ends up in a stranger’s car at midnight because she’s mad at me?”

“I’m not your—”

“Your father is home safe because of me,” he said. S And somehow that was worse than if he’d shouted. “I got the call at nine. He’s asleep in his own bed right now. No broken bones. No missing fingers. Safe. And three hours later, I’m pulling you out of a car with a man I don’t know.”

Shame crawled up my throat.

“You want to be mad at me?” he said. “Fine. Be mad. Hate me. I can take it. But don’t do this. Don’t make me find you like this, Lia. Don’t make me wonder if the next call I get is from the police.”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” I whispered.

“You didn’t have to.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, and for one second, the calm broke. I saw it. Tired. Frustrated. Scared. He was scared.

“Get in the car, Lia.”

“No.”

His eyes darkened. “Lia.”

“No,” I said again. Louder this time. “You don’t own me, Rubben. You don’t get to show up and play hero and drag me home like I’m a kid who—”

He moved.

One second he was three feet away. The next, his hand was around my wrist.

He wasn’t hurting me. His grip was firm, but careful. Like he knew his own strength. Like he was holding himself back.

But I wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

“So what if I am?” I tried to pull away. He didn’t let go. “What are you going to do, Rubben? Throw me over your shoulder?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. Then back to my eyes.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said.

My heart stopped. Then started again, too fast.

The street was quiet. The only sound was my breathing and his.

He let go. Slowly. Like it cost him something.

He turned and walked to his car. Opened the passenger door. Stood there. Waiting.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

we’re leaving. One way or another.

I walked past him. My legs were still shaky. I sat down and stared straight ahead.

He closed the door. Gentle. Like he was afraid to slam it.

He got in. Started the car.

We didn’t talk.

The city moved past the windows. Dark buildings. Empty streets. A gas station with bright lights.

I watched my hands. I watched the road. I watched anything but him.

Five minutes from home, his phone lit up.

He glanced at it. One second.

The whole car changed.

He pulled over so fast the tires threw rocks. We stopped on the side of the road, the engine still running.

He stared at the screen. His face went blank. No anger. No calm. Nothing.

Then he looked at me.

And I’d never seen him look like that before.

Like he’d seen a ghost.

Like the past had just walked into the car and sat between us.

“Who is Marriot?” he asked.

I’d never heard that name in my life.

But the way Rubben said it…

It sounded like a name that had ruined him once.

And it sounded like it was about to do it again.