[Lilia]

“The lights are spinning,” Aya giggled, her words slurred as she tipped the empty flute toward the lightbulbs mounted on the ceiling. She was sprawled flat on the edge of my bed, her head hanging off the side.

Sasha was on the couch, hugging an empty bottle of champagne to her chest. Her face was a mess, eyes closed, drunkenly sleeping with her mouth gaping wide. I, on the other hand, was surprisingly still sober enough, though honestly, I was a bit tipsy. I wasn't nearly as wasted ...