JEREMÍAS I press deeper into her mouth, my tongue finding hers in an aggressive way. My pulse is now a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, fueled by the sight of Krisoff's vulnerable body. Suddenly, she shoves my chest, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. “Get off me,” she mutters, her eyes dim and unfocused. “What are you doing, Jeremías?” “Quiet,” I growl, my voice dropping low. She shakes her head, pressing deep into the wall like she wants to enter inside it and escape. She moves her legs, trying to find a semblance of footing. “I'm not some random girl,” she says, her words almost scrambled but understandable. “Take a good look at me. I'm Ashley. Or are you also tipsy?” I release my hold on her, pulling my hand back an inch, though my eyes remain locked on hers. “Why are you here alone when you're drunk?” She lets out a soft scoff, then smiles—a sound that only makes her look goofy. “I'm not drunk. Just tipsy. Besides, Caleb will be here to stay with me soon
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