The bass thumped through the walls, lights flashing in every direction, but Aurora was well past noticing any of it. She was slumped on the couch, head tipped back, mumbling half-sentences to no one in particular. Her friends hovered around, exchanging helpless looks.

“She’s too gone,” one sighed. “I don’t think we can get her home by ourselves.” After a quick whispered debate, someone finally pulled out their phone. We’ll regret this, but he’s the only one who’ll come.

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened and in walked her ex. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. The irritation in his posture softened as soon as he saw Aurora struggling to sit up, pushing her hair from her face with a clumsy hand.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, but he was already crossing the room. Aurora blinked up at him, her eyes glassy.

“You…” she slurred, pointing a finger at his chest. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, crouching down in front of her, “someone had to come save your reckless ass.” She pouted like a child. “I don’t need saving.”

But when she tried to stand, her knees buckled instantly, and she collapsed against him with a groan.

He caught her without hesitation, sliding an arm under her legs and lifting her up bridal-style. She whined against his shoulder, hitting his chest with the softest tap of protest.

“Put me down,” she mumbled. “You always think you’re the boss.”

He tightened his grip, carrying her through the crowd of gawking partygoers. “You’re drunk out of your mind, Aurora. Complain all you want, but I’m getting you out of here.”

Her head dropped onto his chest, lips forming a sleepy pout. “I still hate you,” she whispered, though her voice cracked with something more fragile.

He exhaled slowly, glancing down at her. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.” But his arms never loosened.