The party was over for her. She’d had enough of Ryan’s drunken, sweaty face.
That made two of us.
Having spent the evening dutifully sober, watching over her from afar, I offered to drive her home.
She told me to head towards the town centre. Said she’d give me directions from there. But she didn’t.
Instead, we spoke about our shared dislike of Ryan all the way to her house. I suggested she would be better off without him. We both would.
She stepped from the car, pausing to ask one final question.
“How do you know where I live?”