Liam groans, “I think I’m already wasted,” laying sideways, putting his head in my lap and twisting onto his back.
My heart stops as he looks up at me. “Can I lay on you?”
I swallow, giving him a nod and feeling flush—everywhere. My eyes shift up to Grey. “Hold on. Why are you dressed like Scots if you’re going to a St. Patrick’s Day party?”
Grey’s face brightens the way it does when he has a tremendously wicked idea.
“Because the Scots hate the Irish, so we’re going to disrupt the party—and this time, the Scots will win the war.”
“Ah,” I say, narrowing my eyes down on him, “so you’re going to start a fight.”
His smile grows, and Kai laughs, “We’re going to finish a fight. They started it.”
I look down at Liam. “Asinine. And you’re supposed to be the future. It’s tragic, really.”
Kai puts his finger under my chin and brings my gaze to his. “Come with us. You could be our Mary, Queen of—”
“Pass,” I laugh, turning back to Liam, whose eyes are closed, now sleeping in my lap.
Grey and Kai start talking, laughing about the trouble they’ll cause, ignoring me and the fact that I’ve brought my fingers to Liam’s wavy wheat-colored hair. Hesitantly, I run my fingers through it so gently as to not wake him, savoring the feeling.
The car begins to slow. Grey looks behind himself, out of his window. Kai joins