She suddenly sat up, leaned over the side of the sofa, and vomited again; her mouth tasted slightly acidic, probably because she had just thrown up stomach acid both times.
Bryan White got up, sat beside her, and gently patted her back with his big hand, helping her breathe more easily.
Mabel Doyle couldn't recover for a long time and kept vomiting several times until nothing more came out, just dry heaving.
"In the future... don't ever touch alcohol again." The man leaned over, his thin lips almost touching her ear, his warm breath brushing her earlobe, making her body involuntarily tense and shiver, a tingling sensation spreading throughout her limbs.
Mabel stiffened, not daring to move. When her stomach felt a bit better, she slowly turned her head. As she turned, the man's handsome face was inches away, just four or five centimeters, their noses almost touching.
