How about this: you tell me why you’re getting drunk, and I’ll tell you why I’m a mess, aside from the fact that I lost a job.” She holds up her pinkie finger. “And we can pinkie swear that whatever we tell each other tonight, we’ll take to the grave.” I link my pinkie with hers, and again, that jolt of energy hits me. Like the static in the air that comes with a thunderstorm. “A secret for a secret?” “Exactly.”
