Cecily slaps a hand on her mouth. "You're drunk, you little shit. When you wake up in the morning, you'll remember this and thank me and your lucky stars."

"You're too young to have a funeral." Bran passes you a cold glass of water. "Drink this and start to develop amnesia."

Ava grumbled some more about how everyone’s a tucking coward, among other colorful words.

I slap my hands on the table. "Game! Game! Game!"

"God, this is my lordship asking you to make a permanent drunk version of you. Amen." Remi grins at you. "What type of game?"

"Dunno. Never have I ever?"

"Let's do this!" He holds an imaginary mic. "I'll go first."

"You always go first," Cecily says.

"That's right." Ava puffs her chest. "You wanted this, so you play first."

"Play what?"

Your spine jerks, and you know you’re definitely drunk, because your reaction is delayed as hell. It takes you some time to realize the voice isn’t in your head.

You become aware of the thickening of the air, and how it mixes with his cologne. How his presence slowly but surely eats up the atmosphere and leaves no oxygen to breathe.

This isn’t fair. You’re supposed to be trying to get him out of your head tonight.

"What are you doing here?" you slur, then place a hand on your mouth.

There’s a single tap of his index finger on his thigh, then he physically pushes his company to the forefront. "Nikolai was bored, so I took him out for a stroll."

"Eat shit, motherfucker. I’m not a dog. Also, he was the one who was so bored that he started vandalizing shit," Nikolai tells you. "I was dragged out against my will because he refuses to admit he misses you."

"Semantics," Killian says casually. "Can we join you?"

Careful silence falls over the table.