Just as Joe turned to leave, a soft tug on his sleeve stopped him.
“Don’t go…” Skylar murmured in a sleepy voice, her fingers loosely gripping his hand.
Joe raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her lying on the bed. “Are you really drunk, or are you pretending?”
Skylar blinked slowly, her foggy eyes struggling to focus on the figure standing above her. Everything in her vision remained hazy, like looking through a mist. Yet in that moment, a strange sense of danger washed over her—as though she were caught in a dream she couldn’t quite wake up from.
Her body felt heavy and weak, as if weighed down by something far more powerful than exhaustion. Then, almost in a whisper, she muttered—
“Christopher…”
Joe’s face immediately darkened. That name again.
Even now, she was thinking about him?
He clenched his jaw. A scumbag like Christopher didn’t deserve a single second of her thoughts—let alone her loyalty.
“Get away from me…” Skylar suddenly let go of Joe’s hand, her expression shifting to one of distress. She turned away, voice trembling with emotion. “Leave me alone…”
Joe stood frozen. Just minutes ago, she was clinging to him, drunk and playful—and now she wanted him gone?
“Leave me alone!” she repeated, as if the first time hadn’t been enough to convey her disgust—not at Joe, but at the memory of the man she once trusted.
She never wanted to see Christopher again. He made her skin crawl. Her heart didn’t ache because of him anymore—it ached because of the time she had wasted. All those years of youth, thrown away on someone unworthy.
Even now, she remembered how other boys had admired her. The top student in her class had once confessed to her. And yet, she had ignored them all for Christopher.
What a waste.
Joe’s gaze hardened as he spoke in a low, stern voice. “I should’ve just left you on the floor to sober up. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had time to think about such garbage.”
With a slight grunt, he yanked the blanket off the floor—Skylar had kicked it off earlier—and roughly threw it back over her before turning and walking out of the room.
The next morning, Skylar woke up with a splitting headache and a gnawing sense of dread.
Her mind was foggy, but she vaguely remembered Joe warning her not to drink too much. After that… her memory went blank.
She groaned and rubbed her temples. “Ugh… I blacked out, didn’t I? Did I say anything weird?”
She looked around the room anxiously.
“No, no… I have good character, so my drinking behavior should be fine too… Right?” she reassured herself. “I must’ve gone straight to bed without causing trouble…”
Still, a small knot of uncertainty twisted in her chest.
As she stepped out of her room, she nearly collided with Joe, who had just exited his.
“Good morning,” she greeted cautiously, guilt lacing her tone. Something about Joe’s cold expression made her uneasy—as if she’d done something unforgivable.
Joe glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “You sober now?”
He didn’t ask if she had just woken up—he asked if she was sober. That was never a good sign.
Skylar sighed internally. So much for “good drinking manners.”
In a tentative voice, she asked, “I… I went to sleep after I got drunk, right? I didn’t cause any trouble, did I?”
Joe raised an eyebrow, his voice calm and flat. “Not trouble. But injuries.”
Skylar’s eyes widened. Injuries?
“Wait—what? I hurt you?” She rushed over to him, flustered. “I—I’m so sorry! I don’t remember anything! Is it serious? Should we go to the hospital? Where did I hit you?”
Joe pointed to his chest, eyes steady. “Here. You sure you want to see it? Should I take off my shirt so you can inspect it?”
Skylar stumbled back a step, nearly losing her balance. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment.
“I… I did what?”
Joe’s expression remained unreadable, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“You touched, rubbed, and pinched all over my chest. Thoroughly.” He paused. “Are you still interested in checking for injuries?”
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