Max laughed, as he felt slightly superior that he’s not as slaughtered as this man is. He feels manly that he isn’t dehydrated and dying. His hangover must be killing him, though. Pulling out his phone, he squinted down at it, before looking up, “it’s two.” Shoving the phone into his back pocket, he smirked, “gotta handle your drink better next time.”
If there’s anything worse than this boy’s blatant disregard for subtlety, Holden has absolutely no hope of finding out what it is.
“In the morning. Okay.” He nods to himself, feeling awfully unsteady. That one thing he can’t stop thinking about – it’s the one thing holding him back.
The comment causes annoyance to flare through him, stronger than he’s ever felt before, and his head raises to examine the boy. He fails to contain the emotion forcing itself onto his expression. “I’m trying so hard not to kill you right now.”
