Mia had no choice but to lift her glass too. She hesitated for half a second, glanced at the liquid suspiciously, then tipped it back in one swift motion.
The warmth burned down her throat.
She coughed softly, eyes watering. “Okay,” she said seriously, blinking. “That one… attacked me.”
Hazel burst out laughing. “You drank it so fast!”
“I wasn’t ready,” Mia defended herself, fanning her mouth with her hand. “Why does it feel like it’s burning my soul?”
Gavin chuckled, shoulders relaxing. “That means it’s working.”
“Working at what?” Mia asked earnestly. “Making me regret my choices?”
Hazel leaned back, grinning. “Possibly.”
Soon, all three were drinking. The music throbbed around them, bass vibrating through the table. The air felt warmer now. With each passing minute, Gavin visibly loosened up, his laughter coming easier, his movements less guarded.
Mia rested her chin on her palm, watching the crowd dance with faint curiosity. “Do people actually enjoy dancing like that?” she asked, tilting her head. “Or is it a hallucination?”
Hazel choked on her drink.
“I’m serious,” Mia insisted. “Look at that guy. He’s been doing the same move for five minutes.”
“That’s called confidence,” Gavin said, amused.
Mia squinted harder, studying the dance floor with concern. “No, seriously. That looks like ankle pain.”
Hazel completely lost it.
She bent forward, laughing so hard she had to brace her hands on the table, wiping under her eyes as she tried to breathe. “You are unbelievable. I bring you to a club and you’re diagnosing people.”
“I’m just saying,” Mia replied calmly, sipping her drink. “Someone should check on him.”
Gavin laughed too, shaking his head as he followed Mia’s gaze toward the struggling dancer.
As the laughter faded, the table grew quieter, the mood shifting naturally into something calmer. Gavin’s smile softened. He glanced at Mia, then reached across the table and lightly placed his hand over hers.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice nearly lost beneath the music. “Don’t be upset, okay?”
Mia blinked, surprised.
“Things like that happen between friends, right?” Gavin continued, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of her hand. “I said something you didn’t like. I apologized. Let it go.”
Mia blinked, then nodded slowly. “Oh. That?” She glanced at their hands, then back up at him, completely unbothered. “I already forgot,” she admitted honestly. “If you hadn’t brought it up again, I wouldn’t have remembered.”
Hazel stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
Mia shook her head. “No. My brain deletes stressful things automatically. It’s a survival skill.”
Gavin laughed, genuinely this time. He loosened his grip but didn’t pull away immediately. “That’s… actually impressive.”
“It’s also dangerous,” Hazel added. “She forgets arguments but remembers the most random little things.”
“That’s not true,” Mia protested.
Hazel smirked, leaning back in her chair. “It totally is!”
Mia narrowed her eyes, shooting Hazel a mock glare. Her head already felt light, the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts. The music pulsed through her chest, making it harder to focus—harder to think.
