“My Snapchat feed is having a banner fucking day,” George mumbled, snapping a picture before I reached over and knocked the phone out of his hand.

Hanna’s mouth came up over my neck to loud whistles and clapping, and then she took the shot and leaned forward, sucking the lime wedge from between my lips.

Well, fuck.

She moved back and I watched her suck at the wedge, smiling at me with her eyes.

“Better?” I asked.

Pulling it away, she shook her head. “Nope, still gross.”

She kissed me and tasted like tequila and lime. I could taste her lips all day and chase her for more.

But she put a hand on my chest, pushing slightly. “Go put on some pants. You’re... a little into this.” Nodding to my boxers, she grinned up at me and I realized I was sporting half-wood standing in the middle of my apartment, surrounded by my friends.

Bennett laughed, turning away.

“Fuck you guys,” I said, punching his shoulder before walking back to the bedroom.

In no time at all everyone but Sara was falling-down drunk. Even Hanna, whom I’d seen tipsy on but a few occasions, would only stop giggling when overtaken by a bout of body-jerking hiccups. The coffee table was covered with novelty straws, playing cards, shot glasses, and beer bottles. A bag of tortilla chips sat several inches away from a nearly empty bowl, and no one seemed to care that the stretch of table between the two was marked by frequent dollops of salsa.

“Hanna. What’s the deal with the job hunt?” Bennett asked, in true drunk-Bennett proactive displeasure.

Hanna held up three fingers. “I have two more interviews.”

“Where?” Sara asked, pushing a glass of water closer to her.

My adorably drunk wife worked to focus on her fingers, ticking off, “Berkeley. Caltech.”

Chloe scowled. “If you move to the West Coast, I will make a gun out of this,” she said, drunkenly brandishing a tiny straw before searching the rest of the cluttered table, “and these peanuts and this glass and shoot you in the dick, Will.”

I winced at the visual. “Wow—” I began.

“In the dick, Will.”

“Okay, wow. That’s... vivid. I’m not the one with the job interviews.”

“But you have a say in it,” Max reminded me.

“It doesn’t matter.” I waved a drunken hand, feeling a quiet panic start to surge in me. “Hanna will basically live in the lab anyway.”

“Whoa.” Her head lolled to face me. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true, though.” I leaned an elbow on the table, resting my cheek on my fist. It was as though I’d had a sheet over the pile of worries building in my mind, and the alcohol lifted it and tossed it to the side. “I want you to get a straightforward teaching job so I’ll actually see you. But you’re not looking at those.”