His eyes find their way to the floor after looking around the room so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with anyone at the table. His emotion has obviously gotten the best of him, and combined with whatever alcohol he drank before he drove here, I can tell Vance is on edge. Maybe that conversation with Nas affected him more than I thought, because this is not the Vance I remember. His confidence is gone, and the arrogance he wore around like a suit of armor every day seems to have fallen off and been left behind.

Seeing Vance and Nas side by side really showcases the giant chasm between the two. They’re polar opposite ends of the spectrum, and seeing him now, I can’t believe I dedicated myself to someone like Vance for so long. Now, all I want is for him to stumble his way out of my life forever, and leave me to explore the world he was keeping me from.

To our utter surprise, Vance suddenly turns around and grabs a chair from the empty table behind him. As he slides it over to our table, we all gasp.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snip.

“I’m sitting down,” Vance replies as if this isn’t ridiculous. He looks at Nas and glares at him as he takes his seat, putting his elbows on the table. “I’m going to have a drink, and nobody can stop me. We were friends just a few days ago, and I didn't know the last happy hour I attended would be my final one, so I’ll take this opportunity to enjoy it one last time.”

“Vance, you can’t do this,” I bark. Nothing annoys me more than my buzz being ruined, and Vance has just pulled all of the tequila right out of my system.

“Yes, I can,” Vance says nonchalantly.

“Dude, this is pathetic,” DeShaun jumps in. Even his usual jovial mood has been snatched by Vance. “We don’t want you here. You didn't want Alina, so now we don't want you. Get up and go.”

“No, I’m going to have a drink. I have every right to be here,” Vance goes on like a petulant child.

“You have the right to be at Chili’s,” Shay says now, trying to remain calm. “But you don't have the right to force your way into somebody’s table. You're being childish, Vance. Please go.”

“No, Shay. I don't have to, and nobody is going to make me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Vance? Stop it,” I say, my volume creeping up and grabbing the attention of the bartender and a few waitresses.

“No, you stop it, Alina,” Vance yells. “I gave you six months of my life. Now you can’t even give me one final drink with our friends?”