Suri Nightingale
“Take a shot and make a Tik Tok, b***h!” Somebody shouted and soon, every other person hanging around by the bar followed in suit and now they were all chanting it while I downed my sixth–or was that seventh? I don’t know, who's counting?–shot for the night.
They all cheered in unison after I drank all the alcohol and my throat burnt as liquid fire coursed through it. God, I detest the taste and feeling of alcohol, but after a while, it starts to burn less and less. But the best part? The bargain in this whole deal of killing my liver? I started to forget more of what I saw earlier.
“Damn, new girl, you’ve got one hell of a tolerance to alcohol.” Someone with an English accent said beside me and when I turned to see who it was, friendly green eyes and a handsome smir
