Hanna slipped her arms around my waist, meeting my eyes. “What just happened?” she asked me through a laugh.

In her expression I could see the question: Are we game for this?

And in truth, we had a lifetime of quiet Saturday nights together. The looks of excitement on our friends’ faces were hard to resist.

I bent, kissing her once. “I fear tonight is going to get out of hand very quickly,” I said against her lips.

She laughed. “I think you may be right.”

Coming out with a tray of tequila shots, Chloe handed one each to me, Hanna, and George, and two each to Bennett and Max.

“Good woman,” I said to Chloe.

Sara happily unscrewed the cap to her water bottle and Chloe ushered us all in closer. “Everyone get in here, raise your damn glasses.” A cluster of glasses clinked together. “To the newlyweds: Will and Hanna Sumner-Bergstrom. Get ready for a lifetime of being badass motherfuckers.”

The tequila warmed a path from my lips to my gut, and I glanced at Hanna, catching the first shudder as it made its way through her, followed by her disgusted wince.

“Oh, God, that’s horrible,” she moaned.

“Then you just need to do more,” George said, jogging to the kitchen and returning a couple of minutes later with another round.

“This is madness,” I told them. “You got here five minutes ago and we’re standing in the hallway doing shots like a bunch of fratty idiots.”

Bennett agreed with a nod, but took his third shot anyway.

“You failed to be tortured on a stag night,” Max pointed out, lifting his glass. “Bennett had one in Vegas. You all held mine at that dive bar in the Meatpacking District.”

“An apt description, if memory serves,” Bennett added. “I think more than a few patrons had sex in the bathroom that night.”

“Besides, when was the last time we all got hammered together?” Chloe asked.

The group fell silent.

“I think never?” Hanna offered, tossing back the next shot before gagging and squeezing her eyes closed. “I don’t think I like tequila.”

I watched her—cheeks flushed, lips wet from the booze—and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a lime and the saltshaker.

“Here,” I said, pulling her close.

“Oh, yes,” George cooed from somewhere behind us. “Only a few minutes in and we’re in body shot land.”

“Lick my neck,” I told her, and she was obviously already tipsy because she did it in front of our friends without hesitation. “Shake some salt there.”

I felt the cascade of salt down my bare chest.

“Okay,” Hanna said. “And then?”

“Lick the salt, take the shot, and suck this lime from my mouth.”

“Can we all please take note here that Will is still in only his boxers?” Sara called out from across the room, where she turned up the volume on the stereo. “Is anyone else a little uncomfortable?”