Two hours and several drinks later, the rest of the group was drunk enough that they staggered into cabs.
I’d stopped after one. Getting drunk around Cole was asking to fall into his bed. As appealing as that sounded, I couldn’t go there again. I wanted to be coherent around him. It seemed safer in this new territory, where we worked at the same place and had the same group of friends.
He’d barely had anything to drink too. Nothing in the last hour.
I headed out of The Ivy with him, searching out his white Jeep on instinct.
“I upgraded,” he said, as if reading my mind.
And then we were next to his shiny, new Jeep in a bright Georgia red.
“Go Dawgs.”
He chuckled. “Sic ’em.”
“I’m over there,” I said, pointing out my black Hyundai. It wasn’t much, but my last car had died spectacularl
