POV’s Tate
My nose wrinkled at the idea of that. “Geez, I didn’t realize that was the kind of stuff you were into.”
Philip grabbed a handle, pouring two shots. One of which had significantly less alcohol inside–that was the one he passed to me.
I lifted the plastic shot glass to him in mock cheers before knocking it back. Philip did the same a few moments later, his face unaffected by whatever horrendous liquor he had poured for us. I couldn’t hide the way I shuddered as I felt it burn down. What was that? Not vodka.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar beat coming from the living room.
I could practically feel my face light up. “Oh my gosh. Is that… Disturbia?”
Philip made a weird face as I grabbed his arm.
“Come on,” I tugged him.
“What?” He pulled against me.
I then leaned in so that
