CHAPTER 11: SHE IS DRUNK
1108 Words
Friday arrived, and Debbie’s department had something special planned.
“Debbie, we’re throwing a welcome party for you,” one of her colleagues announced.
“It’s a company tradition to welcome new team members,” the department head added. “We’re meeting at a club nearby at 9 PM.”
Debbie hesitated for a moment. A part of her wanted to decline and just go home, but then she figured—why not? The party was for her, after all.
She told herself it was just a casual gathering, but deep down, she knew she wanted to see him. Walter.
However, the memory of Annie’s words came rushing back—“Stay away from my man.”
It was a bitter reminder that she had no place in Walter’s life beyond work.
As 9 PM approached, her department gathered at an upscale club. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the energy in the air was electric. Everyone was in high spirits, laughing, drinking, and celebrating.
A few rounds of drinks later, the karaoke session began. One by one, her colleagues took the stage, singing their hearts out. Then it was Debbie’s turn.
Someone handed her the microphone.
“Sing for us, Debbie!” they cheered.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and selected a song—Céline Dion’s “I’m Your Lady.”
As the melody filled the room, her voice carried through the club, strong yet hauntingly soft.
The whispers in the morning
Of lovers sleeping tight
Are rolling by like thunder now
As I look in your eyes…
She closed her eyes as she sang, feeling the weight of the lyrics settle deep within her chest.
‘Cause I’m your lady
And you are my man
Whenever you reach for me
I’ll do all that I can…
Unbeknownst to her, Walter was watching.
He sat in the VVIP private section, sipping his whiskey, his face unreadable. The moment Debbie took the stage, his boredom vanished.
He had come to the club after hearing that the department was throwing a party for her. He hadn’t planned to stay long, but now—he couldn’t look away.
Her voice held something raw, something that sent chills down his spine. It wasn’t just a song—it was a confession.
And for a moment, he allowed himself to believe the words were meant for him.
When she finished, thunderous applause filled the club.
“Wow, Debbie, you can really sing!” her department head exclaimed.
She gave a shy smile, thanking them before returning to her seat.
But she could still feel Walter’s eyes on her.
Toast to Debbie
“Alright, everyone, let’s toast to Debbie!” someone announced.
Drinks were poured, and glasses clinked together in celebration.
Debbie wasn’t much of a drinker, but when everyone cheered her on, she reluctantly took a sip.
One drink turned into two.
Two turned into three.
Walter’s grip on his glass tightened. His jaw clenched as he watched her from afar.
She can’t handle alcohol. So why the hell is she drinking?
He knew she wasn’t a heavy drinker. And yet, there she was—laughing, swaying slightly in her seat, clearly tipsy.
His patience snapped.
Without thinking, he pushed back his chair, stood up, and walked straight toward her.
The party had gone on longer than expected, and Debbie was now completely drunk.
Her head swayed slightly as she blinked at the people around her.
“Debbie, one more shot!” someone cheered, handing her another glass.
Just as she was about to take it, a strong, firm hand snatched it away.
Walter.
He took the drink on her behalf without saying a word, downing it himself before placing the empty glass on the table.
Everyone went silent.
The head of the department cleared his throat and said, “It’s late. Debbie, I’ll drop you off at home.”
Before Debbie could respond, Walter’s voice cut through the air like steel.
“Go. I’ll take her home. She is my staff.”
The words were simple, but the authority in them left no room for argument.
The department head hesitated, glancing at Walter, then at Debbie, before sighing. “Alright, then. Be safe.”
With that, he gathered the others and drove them home, leaving Debbie alone with Walter.
The Ride Home
Walter guided Debbie outside, his grip firm but careful as he helped her into his black Bentley.
“Where do you live?” he asked, starting the car.
Debbie mumbled something incoherent, her head lolling against the seat.
Walter sighed and pulled out his phone.
“Find her address,” he ordered his assistant.
Within seconds, a message popped up on his screen.
His brows furrowed as he read it.
Her apartment was outside the city—in a ghetto.
A dangerous one.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he drove.
What the hell is she doing living in a place like that?
When they finally arrived, Walter parked outside the small, rundown building and stepped out. The area was dark, with flickering streetlights and a few suspicious figures lurking in the shadows.
He hated the thought of Debbie staying here.
She deserved better.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the passenger door and lifted her into his arms.
“Mm… I can walk,” she murmured, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his warmth.
“Sure you can,” he muttered sarcastically, carrying her up the narrow stairs.
When he reached her door, he was surprised to find it neatly arranged inside.
Despite living in such a rough neighborhood, her apartment was small but immaculate. Everything was in place—books stacked neatly on a shelf, a small desk with papers arranged, and a faint floral scent lingering in the air.
Walter set her down gently on the couch, ready to leave.
But as he turned to go, Debbie grabbed his wrist.
Her eyes—dazed, half-lidded, and full of something he couldn’t name—looked up at him.
Walter felt something snap inside him.
Without thinking, he kissed her.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t rational.
But it felt right.
His lips pressed against hers, soft yet demanding, tasting the remnants of the alcohol she had consumed.
Debbie’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she melted into the kiss.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Not Annie.
Not the consequences.
Just the heat between them.
It was a long and wild night for them . It was not until 3am that Walter left Debbi and hugged her waist
He wished they will remain like that forever
- Writer
