Playing Second Fiddle
The more Evie cared about Stewart, the faster I could make a slip for it.
After that, both Stewart's and Evie's drinks ended up down my throat.
As if they were doing it on purpose, they kept losing each time, no matter how many times they played.
In the end, I bolted for the toilet, throwing up the contents of my stomach violently.
But then, as I thought of the free life waiting for me in the future, everything felt like it was worth it.
I had just come out of the restroom and was about to head back to the private room, when I received a call from the hospital.