Chapter 22
“Here,” said Carrie, one of her classmates, handing Andrea a glass of sparkling punch.
Andrea took it without hesitation. Carrie had always been kind to her—one of the few students who didn’t seem to care about the hierarchy. “Thanks,” Andrea said, taking a sip.
“Needed to loosen up, huh?” Carrie teased, winking before disappearing into the crowd.
Andrea smiled faintly, sipping the drink again. It was sweet and bubbly, with a faint citrus aftertaste. She let the glass rest in her hand as she wandered back toward the center of the party.
But then, after a few minutes, something changed.
The world began to tilt slightly, the edges of her vision smearing like a watercolor painting left in the rain. Andrea blinked hard, trying to steady herself, but the room only swayed more.
Her skin felt strange—too warm, like her veins were on fire. She ran a hand over her forehead, her fingers trembling.
“Whoa, easy there.”
Andrea turned sharply, stumbling as she faced one of the unfamiliar students she’d seen earlier. He had dark hair, slicked back, and a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You okay?” he asked, his hand steadying her by the arm.
“I—” Andrea tried to speak, but her words felt heavy and sluggish. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, let’s get you some air,” he said smoothly, guiding her toward a quieter corner near the back of the room.
The hallway was dimly lit, the noise from the party fading as the student led Andrea further away. Her steps were unsteady, her body leaning heavily on him.
“You’re burning up,” he said, his voice low. “Here, let’s sit down for a minute.”
Andrea let him lower her onto a small bench tucked away near the end of the hallway. Her mind felt like it was swimming through molasses, her thoughts scattered and hard to hold onto.
“You’re really pretty, you know that?” the boy said, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Andrea blinked slowly, trying to make sense of his words. “I—I should go back,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
“You’re fine,” he murmured, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Just relax.”
Before Andrea could react—or process what was happening—the boy leaned in closer. His touch was light but insistent, his face too close to hers.
“Stop,” she tried to say, but the word came out weak, almost a whisper.
The boy didn’t move, his hand sliding to her shoulder. Andrea’s body felt heavy, uncooperative, and her mind screamed for clarity that wouldn’t come.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The voice snapped through the fog like a lightning strike. Andrea’s dazed eyes shifted toward the sound, and she saw Liam Sinclair standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous.
The boy flinched but didn’t let go of Andrea. “Relax, man. She’s fine.”
“She’s not fine,” Liam growled, closing the distance in two quick strides.
His hand shot out, grabbing the boy’s collar and yanking him back with enough force to make him stumble. “Get the hell out of here,” Liam said, his voice low and dangerous.
The boy raised his hands defensively, backing away. “Hey, no problem. I was just helping.”
“Sure you were,” Liam muttered, his eyes blazing as the boy disappeared down the hallway.
“Hey,” Liam said gently, crouching in front of Andrea. “Andrea, can you hear me?”
She nodded weakly, her head lolling slightly to the side. “Liam?”
“It’s me,” he said, his voice softening. “What happened? Did you drink something?”
“Carrie,” Andrea mumbled. “Gave me… something.”
Liam cursed under his breath. “Damn it.”
Without another word, he slid his arms under her and lifted her effortlessly. Andrea’s head fell against his chest, her body too weak to resist.
“You’re safe now,” he said quietly, his tone steady and calm. “I’ve got you.”
Liam carried her into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. The space was surprisingly neat for someone like him, with dark furniture and faint traces of cologne lingering in the air.
He laid Andrea gently on the bed, pulling a blanket over her before grabbing a water bottle from his desk.
“Here,” he said, holding it to her lips. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Andrea obeyed, sipping slowly as Liam kept a steady hand on her back to support her.
Her vision swam again, and before she realized what she was doing, her hand reached up to brush against his cheek. “You’re… nice,” she murmured, her voice slurring.
Liam chuckled softly, though his eyes were clouded with worry. “You’re not yourself right now, Andrea.”
“But I feel…” she started, trailing off as her hand lingered on his arm.
Liam gently pulled her hand away, tucking it back under the blanket. “Not tonight,” he said firmly, his voice low but kind. “Not like this.”
Andrea’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling her under as Liam sat beside her.
