1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓

04 | aurora

NEEDLESS TO SAY, SORA LEE GETS ABSOLUTELY WASTED AFTER RYLIN KISSES HER. She heads straight to the bar as soon as he confronts Adrian and explains his plot with Sora, pouring herself six clear shots which she downs in the span of ten minutes. She tends to eat before consuming alcohol, but it doesn't help the fact that she's a lightweight (it's quite embarrassing, in fact).

People stay out of her way and let her drink as much as she wants, and Sora knocks them back one after another until she's dancing with some stranger and complimenting all of the girls in the bathroom (yes, she's that person) a bit obnoxiously. Because she doesn't really want to look at Rylin Carter's pretty face and his cute little beauty mark near his eye, and she certainly doesn't want to remember the sensation of kissing him as his hands gripped the curve of her body, fingertips pressing into her hip.

"Goddamn," a few boys remark passingly as they look at her dancing—she's actually a wonderful dancer, and only when she's completely drunk because then she won't be self-conscious of the way she moves her legs. And just as another person reaches out to pull her in the crowd, Rylin grabs her first.

"And what," he whispers dangerously, "do you think you're doing?"

Sora turns around, grins, and cages his beautiful face within her hands. "I'm dancing, Ry!"

He stills and raises a brow at the sudden nickname but doesn't say much of it. "I can see that," he mutters, and Sora rolls her hips against his for emphasis. Rylin lets out a stuttered breath and sighs before pulling her out and into a close corner, arms steady and features secluded. "We're leaving."

"You're—you're being mean," Sora mutters dejectedly, and she complies gently as Rylin takes her chin in his hands and tilts it upwards to check her pupils. "Sora Lee," he drawls, "you're really fucking drunk, you know that?"

"Yes!" Sora throws her hands up in the air and laughs before spinning in a wobbly circle. "Yes, I know I'm drunk. That's why—that's why I drank so many shoots."

Rylin sighs. "You mean shots?"

A giggle. "Yes," Sora laughs. "Shoots."

"Shots."

"Shoots?"

"Forget it." He lets out a frustrated sound, but Rylin's face softens when he takes in her innocent, hazy expression. "You're awfully cute when you're drunk, Ice Queen," he tells her gently. "You're even prettier when you smile like that."

Sora gasps. "You think I'm pretty?"

A pause. "Do you typically remember things when you're intoxicated?"

She shakes her head dramatically from side to side, and he laughs softly. "Never," she admits. "Sora won't remember anything."

"Then yes—I think you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Rylin tells her. "You're even prettier than me, and I've never said that statement in my entire life."

She gulps, and her eyes shine when she looks at him. "I—thought you hated me," Sora tells him, and a tear slips out. "So mean to me, Carter. So. Mean."

"We literally just kissed, genius."

A giggle. "Oh."

He sighs and leads her out of the room, sending Adrian and a couple of other guys goodbye waves as they both leave the party. Sora's a drunken mess, and she scratches her fresh mosquito bites as he pushes (shoves) her in the car. She's babbling just a bit, the words barely under her breath, and she becomes fascinated at how silver the door handle is. Because it's really silver.

Silver. That's a cool word.

The car ride is relatively quiet: it's mostly filled with her soft snores as she travels in and out of her dreams, and Rylin casts her quick looks over the shoulder just to see if she's alright. Her hair is messy and her dress is riding up on her thigh, and he feels an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness for the girl in his passenger seat. She's an innocent, wild thing—a girl who sees the world with fire in her irises and sunflowers surrounding her heart. A little clumsy and brash, but nothing that a few seductive lines from his part won't fix.