Hailee's POV
Left alone, I stepped off the dance floor and made my way back to the bar.
The music was still loud, bodies pressed together on the dance floor in a blur of heat and motion, but all of that faded into the background as I slid onto the barstool.
"I need another," I muttered.
The handsome bartender glanced at me, his brows lifting slightly like he knew I'd already had too much. His eyes flickered with quiet disapproval, but he didn't argue.
"A glass of your strongest gin," I said again, sharper this time, my frustration bubbling up alongside the alcohol.
He nodded and turned away. A few seconds later, he placed the glass in front of me.
Without hesitating, I picked it up and downed it in one go.
The burn was harsh, unforgiving, searing its way down my throat like fire.
I winced, my lips twisting as the aftertaste settled in, bitter and sharp. A shiver rippled through me, and I pressed my hand to the counter to steady myself.
