Author's point of view
Meanwhile, an hour ago,
Shea leaned against the bar counter, waiting for the bartender to hand her the two glasses she had ordered. Something light for Zerina, something a little stronger for her. Her fingers tapped against the polished wood. She hates waiting.
Her eyes kept flicking over her shoulder, making sure she still had a clear line of sight to where Zerina was sitting. Her best friend looked small, folded into the leather couch like she was trying to shrink from the world.
'My poor girl.' Shea smiled.
Always so soft, so fragile. She wasn't going to let anyone touch her while she was here.
"Two minutes, sweetheart," the bartender grunted, busy with a line of drinks for a bachelor group beside her.
Shea sighed, tugging the strap of her top higher
