Oh no. He’s right. He asked; I said yes. This is my fault. I was curious. I wanted to come. And I want to try whiskey. Because it’s here? Because this horrendously inappropriate flirt of a man will make sure I’m okay if something goes terribly wrong? Whatever the reason that makes it okay, I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip. It’s…warm. Sweet. A lot sweeter than I was expecting. It surprises me. There are hints of spice. It’s almost like cider. I like it. Oh no. I like it. I’m going to become an alcoholic now.
