F— the pointers.
Clutching the phone in her hand, Angela mentally cursed Nina for sending her a message like that at a time like this. If she were at home and alone, she wouldn't have minded, and they'd just be laughing about it. There was no filter for Nina, and sometimes, it put her in a hot chair.
And she couldn't tell how she felt about it because her chair was Gael's lap. And he...was definitely hot.
Things happened so fast—she was only trying to grab her phone from him, but she somehow ended up sitting on his lap. What she did in his escalade was intentional, unlike this one. Angela didn't particularly hate her position, but her heart was beating erratically, which only caused her to feel slightly dizzy. Was she still drunk?