The apartment building sways. I sink onto the couch, right atop Miles’s calves. He fills the mug again, and this time, when he holds it out for me, I down it in one gulp. “Oh my god,” I say. “That’s gross.” “I know,” he says. “But it’s the only hard liquor I had. Should we switch to wine?” I look over at him. “I didn’t have you pegged for a wine guy.” He stares at me. “What?” His tipsy-squinting eyes narrow further. “Can’t tell if you’re kidding.” “No?” I say.
