Setting the empty mug down, he tips his chin to me, “You want to get going?” I feel a little bad about bringing the mood down so swiftly, but I appreciate that Axel is a man capable of reading social cues. But really, if my little admission followed by gulping down my fourth drink doesn’t say please rescue me from myself I don’t know what does. Nodding my answer, I slide my chair back. The second I push up to stand, I realize just how much vodka I’ve consumed. Woah, girl. I sway a little. You’re fucking Drunk with a capital D. Then I snicker a little to myself. I wish I was getting some actual
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