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I swallowed my toast. “Did it… bother you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did what bother me?”
“Having to look after us.” I set down my fork and reached for my juice, eyeing him tentatively. “I know how you feel about alcohol. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”
Max’s lips curved. “Ellie, the worst thing the three of you did last night was insist upon the karaoke machine being turned on for an impromptu karaoke night. You were the one who put a stop to alcohol at about eleven because you knew you’d hit your limit, even though they kept drinking.”
“I know, but—”
“You were drunk, but you weren’t out of control. You could walk, talk, and I only stayed because you asked me to. If you hadn’t, I would have been entirely comfortable leaving you here knowing that you just needed a good sleep and some water. Which you insisted on having before bed, by the way.”
I nodded slowly. “That explains why my head stopped exploding after I started moving.”
“Yeah. See? You’re a responsible drunk. It’s amusing.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Max laughed. “Ellie, you don’t have to feel bad about drinking in front of me. I barely drink out of choice, but that doesn’t mean everyone else around me has to toe that line. I have an aunt who’s vegan and she insists that nobody even drinkcow’s milkwhen she’s around. We’re talking not even in tea or coffee kind of militant. I’m not that person, nor do I want to be.”
“I suppose it’s nice to know that I’m a responsible drunk,” I replied. “I’m still sorry I made you have to look after me.”
“All you needed was a lift home. Otherwise, you really did look after yourself. Apart from the five minutes of you arguing with Winston over the pros and cons of wearing a tank top to bed.”
Oh, no.
“You had a full-blown conversation with him about how you shouldn’t wear one because your, and I quote, ‘damn boobies will pop out all night.’”
Wow. I really was a responsible drunk.
I buried my face in my hands. “Drunk me was right.”
“Drunk you also let a silent cat talk you into wearing it to bed. I really should have videoed that.”
All right. Notthatresponsible.
“I am extremely glad you didn’t.”
He grinned. “I’m sure. I’m happy to give you a full run down of it, if you want.”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks. Some things should not be remembered, and that sounds like one of them.” I scraped up the last of the beans and finished them. “Thanks. That… weirdly worked. Why have I never tried that before? How did you come across it?”
“Bad choices in university,” he mused. “Fred and I lived together while we were studying, and we were typical students. Both of us were absolutely dreadful at grocery shopping and our kitchen was filled with exactly what you’d expect from a couple of idiot students who didn’t have to worry about money.”
My lips twitched. “Chicken noodles and tomato soup?”
“Beer, bread, beans, and far too many tubs of Pringles.”
“There’s no such thing as too many Pringles.”
He nodded his head in my direction. “That’s true. Anyway, we tended to just eat out or order food in because we couldn’t be bothered to cook, so usually the only things we had to eat after a night out was beans on toast.”
“That is really sad. Even I had more food than that and I was pretty poor.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t for a lack of finances.” He laughed. “Whoever thought letting teenage boys live alone and be responsible for their own food hadn’t thought that through.”
I pressed my lips together. “Mhmm. In my last year of uni, I had a house share with five other people. Three girls, three guys, and if we didn’t cook, then they’d exist on nothing but peanut butter sandwiches and soggy biscuits. Cheese on toast if they were feeling fancy.”
Max laughed. “That sounds about right. Sounds better than my experience. Fred used to make me run after because a hangover was no excuse not to work out.”
