Nolan tugs my hand free of his mouth. “You drugged me?” I shrug. “Maybe a little bit,” I admit, chucking both our cups over the embankment. “And by a little bit, I mean probably a lot. Who knows.” “What do you mean?” “I kind of free-poured, you know? It’s not like I measured your BMI beforehand, is it?” “You’re a terrible person,” he whisper-snarls.
LMAO
