Once everyone falls into their own conversations, I slip away to see if I can get a drink. I manage to score courtesy of a cute guy in his mid-twenties seated at the bar. “Aren’t you underage?” Pax asks, eyeing the drink I return sipping. “Yeah, but I didn’t tell that guy,” I say cheekily, indicating the dude who bought me said drink. “He’s giving you fuck me eyes,” Hudson says as if I didn’t already know that. I sip my drink and shrug one shoulder. “I still have to study tonight.” It’s not technically a lie; I should probably get some work done when I get home, but I highly doubt I will. It’s
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