[Johan's POV]
Johan churned his torso to shake Adrian's hold, but the drunk man only tightened his grip around his waist even though he's half-asleep on his lap. A snicker from his cousin had him glaring. "This is your fault, Couz."
"Why me? I'm not the one who got him drunk." Sean directed an accusing stare at Kristoff, who was clearing the table with empty bottles and junk food wrappers.
Kristoff scratched a spot on his tattooed arm. The red ink used on the rose art was a wonderful contrast to his skin. He jutted his lips into a pout and grumbled, "it's not like I'm the one who broke his heart."
Johan swatted the accusation of their gazes along with the fucking mosquito that kept buzzing in front of him. A provincial life wasn't all nature and paradise. There were also pests, especially during twilight.
"I'll go get a mosquito coil," Kristoff excused himself and grabbed the trash with him.
"Get the lavender scent."
