George tilted his head back, finishing off the neon-blue cocktail like it was the last drink on Earth.
"Easy, man," Noel said, watching him with one brow raised.
George just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned, eyes already glassy. "I'm going home tomorrow. I'd rather be hungover with memories than sober with regrets."
Luca snorted. "That should be on a T-shirt."
Emily lifted her glass, sliding back into the booth with flair. "Alright then. To post-exam trauma and emotional damage. May we forget it all by morning."
They raised their glasses—mismatched, half-filled, some already sweating with condensation. Even Jordan, half-distracted on his phone, lifted his beer lazily. "Cheers."
The glasses clinked. Laughter rippled through the group.
Before anyone noticed, George had already slipped into the crowd,drawn by the music like a moth to a disco flame.
