If Lynsandra was right, she used to frequent places like this to find some sort of comfort. Every time Victor let her down—or life hit her from all directions—this was the kind of place she would end up in. Clubs were too loud for her, after all.
She blinked and snapped out of her thoughts when she saw Elias reach for the bottle of beer.
"You're going to drink?" she asked, making him freeze mid-motion, his mouth slightly open and his hand poised to pour. "You're driving."
"What do you think of me?" he narrowed his eyes as he lowered the bottle. "One beer won't even reach my stomach."
"I'm not driving you back."
"Oh, come on!" he grumbled, studying the subtle displeasure on her face. "Fine. I won't touch it."
As if the bottle were an old friend, he reluctantly set it down and dramatically looked away. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"Just one," she said. "And if we get into an accident, I'm going to kill you. So pray it's brutal enough to take both of us."
