Chapter 7
Wes
“You know we just won the national title, right?” Cassel says for the hundredth time in the past hour. He wears the goofy, king-of-the-world grin he’s been sporting all night. Even before the four vodka shots he threw back.
“Yeah, I know.” My tone is absent as I sweep my gaze over the crowded, overheated bar we’d chosen as celebration headquarters. The drinks at the hotel bar are ridiculously overpriced, so we decided to venture somewhere else tonight. And according to Donovan’s Yelp search, this tiny dive bar has half-price drinks on Sunday nights and apparently they don’t taste like piss.
I don’t give a s**t how the alcohol tastes, though. I’m only interested in the effects of it. I want to get drunk. I want to get s**t-faced out of my mind so I don’t have to think abou
