In the midst of the laughter and general hilarity around us, Lydia clung to me, her arms draped lazily around my shoulders, eyes glassy with the afterglow of too many drinks.
I could feel the weight of her body resting against mine as she swayed slightly, grinning up at me with a mischievous glint.
"Come on, Lydia," I said softly, smoothing back a lock of her hair. "Let's get you to bed before you end up without your shirt in front of everyone."
She pouted, her fingers fumbling once again with the collar of her shirt. "What's wrong with that?" she muttered.
"You're here, and they're here. Everyone knows we're together. Why can't I just... just... ugh." She gave up trying to articulate her thought, then started giggling at nothing in particular.
I fought to keep my own smile in check, even as my patience thinned with the drunken antics. "You don't want them to have a show, trust me," I replied, steering her toward the door.
