Emma
One shot.
Two shots.
Three shots.
By the fourth shot, Amanda was toasting by herself. Theresa had dragged Noah to the dance floor, and we could watch them from our private box. Amanda took her phone out and texted someone, but then left it forgotten to the side.
When she signaled for a fifth shot, I knew it was time. I’d been waiting since we got inside to confront her again. Theresa had stuck close to Noah, and I wasn’t sure if that was why Amanda was pushing the drinks or if she would’ve been anyway. I sat back and shook my head when she offered me a shot, too.
“Suit yourself.” Amanda tipped back her head, downing the drink, as soon as the server left. She practically tossed the shot glass back on the table and turned, her frown becoming a scowl as she went right back to watch
