“Feeling better now?” She asks after Trae finishes his bowl. She refills his glass of water.
“Much better. Thanks.” He takes care of his seemingly unquenchable thirst, downing the contents of the pitcher to the last drop.
Through stolen glances, she studies his face over the rim of her glass. “Ben, you met him at the garage, said that the best hangover cure is a bottle of beer. To help settle your nerves or something like that."
“Ugh, please don’t say that. I’m gonna puke just thinking about it.” His face puckers into a grimace.
She lets out a half-repressed chuckle. Then her expression turns solemn, and in a serious tone she asks, “What’s got into you getting hammered like that?”
At the exact moment, Trae also asks, “How did I end up at your house?”
They stare at each other for
