You sat at the bar, in front of several empty glasses. With every sip of alcohol, you silently cursed that insensitive Nash in your mind. Your eyes were watery, half-crying, half-mumbling to yourself.

"Nash, you bastard..."

The bartender stood by, listening to your rambling. For him, a drunken girl lamenting over love must be nothing new. Truly sad how love can reduce a person to this.

"That bastard’s here to take his princess home."

What? You looked up and saw Nash. He was staring at you, his expression serious, but you just laughed mockingly. He probably activated his location tracker to find you here. You looked at him, pouting, not bothering to hide your sarcasm.

"Who needs you? Go away—"

Before you finish you sentence, Nash leaden down and kiss you, a sudden brief kiss, then he pulled away looking at you with a mixture of angry and worry

“you've had too much to drink , let's go”