RORY POV
I watched Oliver as he opened the glass of alcohol and poured himself a glass of whatever it was. The bottle was gigantic and had sharp angles and idents covering it. It looked costly. He took a gingerly sip, and I could tell he was on edge. Good.
"Want some?" Oliver asked.
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Suit yourself. It's delicious, and it's forty-year-old scotch, worth five grand," he said, watching me, sipping his scotch slowly. It annoyed me. I tried to push away the fluttering butterflies in my stomach and focused on interrogating Oliver instead.
"You seemed to know that cave wasn't safe," I said, side-eyeing him. "How did you find about it."
"I don't remember," he said, shrugging. "Why were you there anyway?"
"You also seemed pretty concerned with my safety," I said,
