Aden
Camilla looked awful. Sickly and garish. Like a college freshman who had taken frosh week too far. Cooper was pissed and also too drunk to drive. Camilla certainly couldn’t. Truth be told, I was the only one who hadn’t been drinking at all.
“I’ll take her home,” I said to Cooper when he made it back to the table, holding a napkin to his nose.
“You’ll what?”
“I’m the only one who hasn’t been drinking, and I live next door.”
“Good idea, thanks.”
Getting my jacket, I picked Camilla up in a fireman’s carry and hauled her toward the doors of the casino, getting nary a glance from the on-site security.
“Put me down! I can walk!” she protested, her dress riding up on her ass.
“Not steadily,” I said, slapping my hand down on her ass to hold her dress down as I carried her to her car.
