"Ryder, you shouldn't have taken that drink for me," Agnes chided, her voice tinged with concern.
If Ryder hadn't shown up, she would've handled the situation her own way. His sudden intervention only drew more attention to them. Now, their relationship was like being smeared with tar—no amount of scrubbing could clean the stain.
Ryder replied with a hint of nonchalance, "You're not supposed to drink. Consider this my way of apologizing."
Agnes knew exactly what he was referring to. That day during the interview, she had been cornered by a pack of project managers pressuring her to drink. She ended up getting drunk. Later, Ryder had apologized to her for the incident.
Deep down, Agnes was aware that those men were acting bold only because Ryder had given them the nod. If he hadn't, they wouldn't have dared.
The reason Agnes had dared to drink that day was that she believed, drunk or not, Ryder would never leave her in a lurch. But tonight, drinking was the last thing she wanted.
Agnes didn't want to dwell on it. Some things just couldn't be explained away.
"Since we're out, I should head home, and you should too," she suggested, eager to leave the drama behind.
Ryder's gaze, cold and penetrating as a frosty night, settled on her face under the bright moonlight.
Agnes sighed, capitulating. "Fine, I'll drive you home. You've been drinking; you can't drive."
If she left Ryder here after he had taken a drink for her, it would weigh on her conscience. Besides, he had helped her, and she wasn't sure if the alcohol would have any delayed effects. If it hit him later and he got into trouble, Agnes would never forgive herself.
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