Ryan
Rhea shifted beneath her weight for what felt like the hundredth time. I swore she gained ten extra kilos every time she wriggled.
"For someone who's always threatening to punch people," I muttered, tightening my grip beneath her thighs, "you've become surprisingly clingy."
Rhea answered with something that sounded suspiciously like a snore before mumbling incoherently against my shoulder.
"...potato..."
"What?"
"...you're... a potato."
I scoffed. "Good to know."
The corridor leading to her room had never felt this long. Every few seconds she shifted, making me readjust her before she slipped off my back.
Luke was dead. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.
But someday, I'd remember tonight, and when I did, I'd make him regret introducing enough alcohol to knock out half the damn t
