Tyler's POV
Amara swayed on her feet, her eyes glazed over as she stared up at me with a lazy smile. I could smell the alcohol on her breath, mixed with the floral scent of her perfume.
Then, before I could process what was happening, she leaned in and pressed her lips against mine.
I froze.
What. The. Hell.
For a split second, I didn't move—too caught off guard to react. But the moment her hands gripped my shirt, I snapped out of my daze and immediately pulled away. I didn't shove her hard, just enough to put some distance between us.
"Amara, what are you doing?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, but she didn't seem to notice.
She blinked up at me, pouting. "What do you mean?"
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "You're drunk, Amara. That—that wasn't appropriate."
She tilted her head like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Why?"