The bottle tasted awful.

Aria had barely managed to take a full sip without coughing, but she forced herself to swallow. It burned down her throat, making her eyes water, but she ignored it. The older kids around her weren’t even fazed—they laughed, passing the cheap vodka between them like it was nothing.

Mason wasn’t here. That’s why she’d done it.

She had tagged along with some of his so-called friends, the ones who let her hang around when Mason wasn’t looking. They were hanging out in an abandoned lot behind a gas station, sitting on crates, smoking, drinking. She’d wanted to prove something—wanted to show them she wasn’t just a kid.

But now? Now everything felt weird.

Her head was too light and too heavy at the same time. The world tilted slightly when she moved, and her stomach churned. Someone said something to her, but she barely processed it. It was like the words were floating somewhere far away.

She felt wrong.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“The hell is this?”

Her stomach dropped.

Mason.

She looked up, blinking sluggishly as he stormed over. His face was sharp with anger, his brown eyes dark, unreadable.

“Relax, man,” one of the guys chuckled. “She wanted to drink.”

Mason ignored them, zeroing in on Aria. “What the fuck are you doing?”

She tried to sit up straighter, tried to act like she wasn’t dizzy. “’S fine, Mase,” she slurred.

That only made it worse.

His jaw clenched, and before she could react, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up. The sudden movement made her stomach lurch.

“Mason—” she started, but he wasn’t listening.

“We’re leaving,” he snapped, dragging her away from the group.

Someone called after them, laughing, but Mason ignored them. He pulled her down the sidewalk, his grip firm but not painful. She stumbled, her legs feeling like jelly, and Mason muttered a curse before steadying her.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he growled, his voice tight. “What were you thinking?”