𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙎

Over-served

The night air was crisp as Dave and Iris stepped into the dimly lit bar nestled in a quiet corner of Capitol Hill. It had been a long week of rehearsals, and they were eager to unwind. The bartender, a familiar face from their previous visits, greeted them with a nod and a knowing smile.

"Two beers?" she asked, already reaching for their usuals.

"Yeah, thanks," Dave replied, settling onto a barstool beside Iris.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. They reminisced about their early days in Seattle, shared stories from their time in bands, and laughed over inside jokes that only the two of them understood. Iris, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and the comfort of Dave's presence, began to let her guard down.

"You're not like the other guys," she said, her words slightly slurred but sincere. "You actually listen."

Dave chuckled, nudging her playfully. "I try."

But as the night progressed, Iris's tolerance began to wane. The bartender, perhaps a bit too eager to please, continued to serve them both, not noticing the subtle signs of overconsumption. Iris's speech became more erratic, her movements less coordinated.

"Hey, I think it's time to call it a night," Dave suggested gently, his concern growing.

"Nah, I'm fine," Iris protested, though her unsteady posture suggested otherwise.

Realizing the situation, Dave stood up, offering his arm for support. "Come on, let's get you home."

Outside, the cold air hit them, and Iris stumbled slightly. She paused, hand on her stomach. "I don't feel so good."

Without hesitation, Dave guided her to a nearby parking lot. As she leaned over to vomit, he held her hair back, his expression a mix of concern and care. Once she was finished, he helped her into the passenger seat of his car, buckling her in before getting behind the wheel.

The drive back to his place was quiet, save for the occasional murmur from Iris, who seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep. She stirred slightly, her eyes half-lidded, and mumbled, "You know, you're kinda cute."

Dave laughed softly, glancing over at her. "You don't know what you're talking about."

She smiled dreamily. "I do. You're like... a teddy bear."

"Uh-huh," he replied, amused. "That's me."

After this, the air inside the car was quiet aside from Iris's occasional sighs and the soft hum of a Mazzy Star song bleeding from the local radio station. The road ahead was blurry in the dim streetlights, and he kept glancing over at her just to make sure she was okay.

Iris leaned her head against the window, the cool glass pressing against her flushed cheek. She let out a soft laugh that turned into a hiccup. "You know something, Dave?"

He smiled cautiously. "What's that?"

She turned her head toward him, her eyes glassy but focused. "You're really sweet. Like... way sweeter than I expected when I first met you."

Dave blinked, unsure how to respond.

"And cute," she added, grinning dopily now. "Really cute. Like... that kind of cute where you don't even know it, which makes it worse."

He let out a short, surprised laugh, keeping his eyes on the road. "You're drunk, Iris."

"Yeah," she said, dragging the word out. "But I'm not lying."

She slumped back into the seat, her head now turned toward him completely, her voice quieting. "You're also really funny. I mean... I like being around you. A lot."