When the party ended, I called a designated driver. While I waited, a black sedan pulled up in front of me. The window slid down, revealing Roland's worn-out face.
"Get in," he said. "I'll drive you home."
I looked at him and suddenly laughed. "Roland, are you seriously this desperate for punishment? I slapped you, humiliated you, and you're still here offering me a ride home? Do you enjoy being treated badly?"
Roland's grip tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "Alina, get in."
"No!" I waved him off and turned to leave. "I've got legs. I can walk."
"Alina!" He flung open the door, rushed over in a few strides, scooped me up, and dropped me into the passenger seat.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" I struggled, my fists raining down on him.
"Shut up!" he ro
