He Lost Me to His Best Friend novel Chapter 772

A trace of pure happiness had just begun to bloom in Julian’s chest.

He never expected a strong, forceful hand to suddenly wedge its way between them.

Before he could react, a tremendous force shoved his arm upward. Yardley’s arm slipped in with casual grace, but the unyielding strength behind it effortlessly peeled Julian away from Scarlett’s side.

The next second, Julian was shoved unceremoniously onto Yardley’s broad, solid shoulder.

During the handoff, Yardley shot him an icy, warning glare.

Shocked, Julian blinked at the man who had just hijacked him.

It was Yardley Flynn, haunting him like a ghost that refused to dissipate.

Yardley’s face was hard, his tone dripping with condescension. "If you can't hold your liquor, don't try to play the hero. Scarlett is the one who won the award tonight, not you. Why go out of your way to show off?"

Julian was speechless.

"Furthermore," Yardley continued, his expression intensely serious. "If you're drunk, you can just find a waiter to help you. She's far too petite to support your weight. Couldn't you tell she was practically bending in half under you?"

Julian stared at him in disbelief. His first thought was that this was entirely ridiculous; his second was the urge to fire back. "Seriously, are you the global police now?"

Yardley merely cast him a detached glance, making absolutely no move to let go of his arm.

As the elevator doors slid open, he hauled Julian inside without another word.

Standing behind them, Scarlett felt a wave of absurdity wash over her, followed quickly by exasperation.

Fine, if he wanted to play the role of the pack mule, she would gladly let him.

With that, Julian shut his eyes, pretending to be completely dead to the world. His eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly as a faint, satisfied curve touched his lips.

Yardley felt as though a mountain had just collapsed on top of him.

"Wake up! Julian!"

Yardley gritted out through clenched teeth, trying to rouse him. But Julian kept his eyes glued shut, looking as serene as a slumbering Greek god.

Yardley’s back was practically bowing under the strain, a thin layer of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Just as he was about to give up and drop him on the floor, Scarlett’s voice drifted over, cool and unbothered.

"If you insisted on carrying him, you'd better hold on tight. If you drop him and he gets hurt, given his status in the architectural world here, you can forget about ever setting foot in Country A again."