Birthright

“This is true.” And a tipsy Holly was a handsy one. He didn’t mind that. Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed her fingers and led her towards the metal staircase. Daniel nudged aside the couple locking lips and parted the sea of people until he found enough room for them to stand, side by side, at the downstairs bar. He whistled to get the bartender’s attention. “What do you like, tequila?” he asked, turning to look at her in close quarters. He tried to guess her poison: whichever was most likely to get her fucked up fast, he figured. Maybe he should’ve gone straight for the grain alcohol. He stared at her mouth and hoped it could be passed off for lipreading.