Adrian's POV
I stare silently at the rows of alcohol bottles lining the wall across from me. I have a beer in one hand, and my fist is clenched into a tight ball on the wooden surface beneath me.
The look in Alicia's eyes when she left the bar is haunting me, even hours later.
What I said was the truth, but why do I feel like such an a**hole for saying it? And why does my stomach feel like it's twisting in knots every time I repeat the words in my head?
I'm so drunk right now that I can barely see several feet in front of me, but that doesn't stop my mind from going into overdrive thinking about everything that has happened tonight.
I can't help feeling guilty for what I said, no matter how I try to force myself not to care.
I blink rapidly when I sense someone beside me.
Turning to my right, I see Sheila sitting on the stool next to me, her long brown hair tied into a ponytail on top of her head. She has a drink in her hand, and she's giving me "f*ck me" eyes.
