There’re a few moments of silence before Cash speaks up. “So, teach… you still got that bottle of whiskey in your desk drawer?”

I can hear the smirk in his voice more than I can see it. “How do you know about that?”

“Eh, I’ve seen it in there a few times when you’ve grabbed things out of it.” He steps a little closer, my eyes having started to adjust to the darkness, staring right into his. “Do you?” he asks again.

“I do,” I confirm. “It was a white elephant gift from the Christmas party last year.”

“Let’s crack it open.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, Cash.”

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, waving a hand in front of him nonchalantly, with a butter-me-up grin on his face. “You said it yourself, we better get comfortable. It doesn’t look this storm is letting up anytime soon. I know I don’t want to drive home in this, and I’m sure you don’t either, right?”

He has a point… what the hell else are we going to do for who knows how long? Let’s just hope that smirk on Cash’s face is an innocent one.

Jesus take the wheel.

Heaving a sigh, I walk over to my desk and pull out the unopened bottle of Jack I keep in there. “Fine. But not too much. We still have to drive home later whenever the storm stops.”

This probably isn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had—actually, I know it’s a terrible idea—but similar to what Cash said in his toast in Portland, questionable choices seem to follow me whenever I’m around him.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s what I’m talking about, teach.” Amusement dances over his features in the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

Twisting open the cap, I bring the bottle to my lips, letting the amber liquid fill my mouth, before swallowing down the burn. I walk over to Cash, handing him the bottle, and watch him while he takes a large pull of the whiskey too.

“What now?” he asks, as he hops up onto the table.

“Guess we just hang out until the lights come back on or the storm stops, then.” We’re both now sitting on a long student table, facing each other, sitting cross-legged. There’s a good three feet between us, but the proximity is still making my pulse race. The darkness, us being alone, the alcohol… it’s all a recipe for disaster, and I must be a glutton for punishment, because I can’t find it in me to care.

“Okay, twenty questions,” Cash announces, sounding pretty proud of himself.

“You’re joking,” I deadpan. This won’t end well.

“Nah. It’ll pass the time. Me first… if you could live anywhere in the country, where would that be?”