Lyra's POV
I burst into laughter at Poppy's antics, watching as she pulled the cup away from her lips and took another generous gulp. She raised her drink toward me in a mock toast, and we both drained our cups simultaneously. The alcohol burned pleasantly down my throat as Poppy spun back into her wild dancing routine, her movements completely uninhibited in the cramped space around us.
She reached out and grabbed my free hand mid-spin, pulling me into her orbit of carefree motion. Her grip was warm and encouraging as she swayed our joined hands back and forth.
"Come on, Lyra!" she shouted over the pounding bass that vibrated through the floorboards. "Dance with me!"
