The Perfect Retribution
As the strap slipped from her shoulder, about to slide down her arm, I reached out and gently held her hand, stopping her.
She looked at me, her neck veins bulging as she held her breath. Without saying a word, I grabbed a shot glass from the table, tilted my head back, and downed the contents in one go. Ayva stared at me as if I were some kind of alien, but I paid her no mind, grabbing another shot glass and swiftly emptying the bitter liquid into my mouth.
After four shots of tequila, I felt my head starting to spin, and the room began to whirl around me. It was then that I remembered exactly why I despised tequila. It was the only liquor I couldn't hold properly.
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