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She laughs. "That's a start!"
Good. She still happy. Kara is an endlessly patient friend. She's been dragging me out of mourning for months now. I'm not going to ruin her night.
"I'm about ready to go home," I say. "I'll take a cab."
"No. I can drive. It's getting late," she says.
The dark-haired guy, Drew, butts in. "Kendrick, you are way too drunk to drive. If you even think about getting in your car, I'll throw you over my shoulder, carry you to my room, and strap you to my bed."
Her eyes light up the second he calls her by her last name. "I didn't know you were into that. Do you have rope or handcuffs or what?"
"I'll call you a fucking cab." His voice is equal parts playful and protective.
She nudges him and points to me. "This is my friend Meg, who you are so rudely ignoring in favor of lecturing me."
He pushes off the couch and offers his hand. "Drew Denton. Nice to meet you."
I shake. "Meg Smart."
"Miles giving you a hard time?" Drew asks.
"I can handle myself," I say.
"If you won't listen to reason—" Drew turns back to Kara "—then I will drive you home."
Kara looks Drew in the eyes. "You were drinking too."
"I can." I bite my tongue. Dammit, Kara's car is a stick. I can't drive us home. "Never mind."
Miles butts in. "I'll drive you guys home."
Drew's eyes narrow. He shoots Miles an incredulous look.
"Not letting you drive tonight." Miles throws back a stern look. "You'd do the same."
Slowly, Drew's protective expression melts. He and Miles share a look of understanding.
The cocky singer turns to Kara. "Your keys."
"It's a manual." She digs through her purse.
"That's fine." He smirks. "I know how to handle my stick."
