Devin’s face was set in a scowl, jaw clenched tight as he carried you over his shoulder, each step up the moonlit driveway pounding with barely contained frustration. Your body bounced lightly with his movements, arms dangling, hair brushing against his back, and he could still smell the sweet sting of tequila on your breath. Earlier, your tipsy flirting and lazy smiles had made him chuckle but that charm had long since vanished. Now, you were loud, limp, and completely insufferable.

Your laughter rang in his ears unpredictable, punctuated by slurred, half-formed words that tumbled from your mouth like static. “Mmwait—Deeev—did you see the… the thing—ha!” Whatever thought had started never made it to the end. It never did. Devin rolled his eyes, shoving the door open with one shoulder, muttering something under his breath that you were too far gone to catch.

Inside, the warm air hit like a wave, and he finally set you down. For a heartbeat, you swayed on your feet—then gravity took over. You pitched forward, and Devin lunged, hands snapping around your hips to catch you before you crumpled to the floor.

“I told you not to drink so much,” he hissed, his voice low and tense, each word sharpened by the clench of his teeth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter than necessary, more to ground his temper than to steady you.

But your wide, glazed eyes blinked up at him with delight, completely oblivious. You clutched at his arms like a lifeline, head tilting as another burst of giggles escaped your lips, loud and carefree, like you hadn’t just nearly faceplanted in the foyer.

And Devin, still holding you, could do nothing but sigh, the line between exasperation and concern drawing tighter by the second.