“A w, you dribbled.” Sam chuckles as I wiped my hand over my face, clearing the drops of whiskey from my chin.

“Got a hole in you r chin there?” AP asked with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry if I can’t dislocate my jaw like a snake to take shots like you can,” I answered back, causing Sam’s laughter to fill the bar. She slapped her hand on the counter, practically keeling over from hysterics.

AP’s eyes narrow. “Jealous?”

“Of what? Your supernatural ability to drink anyone under the table? Sorry, AP, but that’s not something I’m jealous of. ”

“Then maybe it’s my good looks,” he said,...