“One more!” I called out, raising a hand before slumping back on the barstool, my balance barely holding. The scotch burned in my throat, but it was the only thing numbing the firestorm in my chest. Eight months—eight whole months and he had been screwing someone else. Stupid, right? Drinking myself into a blackout because of a cheating boyfriend? Maybe. But pain didn’t ask for permission, and right now, this glass was the only thing that listened. “Here you go.” The bartender slid another drink in front of me. I gave him a weak smile and knocked it back in one go. “Another,” I said, setting the empty glass down with a thud. He blinked at me, hesitant. His mouth opened like he wanted to protest, but nothing came out. “I said,” I lifted my hands theatrically, “another drink!” He flinched slightly. “Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea to—” I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and he fell silent. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” The voice came from my left. Low, calm, ma
Last Updated : 2025-10-19
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