Kai hardly ever drank. Sure, he'd had his share of nights out, but he always had a sense when to quit—when the world began to lean just so and tell him that he'd had enough.
Tonight, he didn't care.
East, Ash, and a few of the others drank steadily, laughing, chatting, but Kai? Kai shot after shot, allowing the sting in his throat to keep him from feeling the throb in his chest.
He had battled Noah. Physically. And still, no matter how much he tried to punch the anger out of his system, it remained there like a stubborn weight.
"Kai, slow down," East warned, pushing his next drink away.
Kai laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "What? Afraid I'll get too wasted?" He grabbed the glass back anyway, knocking it back like water. "Maybe that's the point."
Ash frowned. "Alright, what's going on?"
Kai opened his mouth to throw some smartass remark, but the words didn't come out. His throat tightened, his head spun, and suddenly, everything felt too much.
