“But I have a purse in the living room big enough to smuggle a bottle back to my place.” He stopped in the hallway and turned to face me. “Should we, though?” “Someone’s going to end up drinking it.” I shrugged. “Why shouldn’t it be us?” He studied my face for a long moment before making his decision. “Get your bag,” he instructed. “I’ll get the bottle.” “Already on it,” I replied, bumping his fist with mine as we moved in opposite directions.
