She’s lying.

I know she is.

Thea isn’t the girl to do that. She’s far too shy to even consider that.

Celia must have seen the doubt on my face because she made a drinking motion with her hand, “She was pretty hammered. She took a few Long Islands, back to back.”

I can imagine her being hammered, but even drunk, I find the idea hard to accept.

Celia slings her arms around my neck, “Forget her. Why don’t you and I go find a private room?”

Pressing against me, she rubs ...