Torn Between Three
“He's adorable.”
"He gets drunk so easily." Another man reached over and ruffled my hair as if I was a pet kept for their amusement.
"We're not trying to kill you, kid."
"I'll throw up," I whispered, at this point, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. "Please..."
"Oh, let him breathe," the oldest man finally said, swirling the whiskey in his own glass. "If we keep forcing him, he won't be any fun next time."
The others chuckled.
Bab Populer