“So who cares for drinks?” Rowan asked after the frigid air of our sorrowful acceptance had dissipated, and everyone immediately perked up.

I mean, it was alcohol and men; they always go together.

“Of course.” Morgan laughed.

“Why didn’t you ask earlier?” Harry questioned.

“We have been dying to drink some,” Pete said.

Rowan laughed as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen. He came back balancing five bottles in his hands. I don’t even know how he did it, but he placed them on the table in front of us.

“I got beer.” He announced it, and they all cheered, but I eyed the bottle skeptically. I have...