“Nope,” he said, popping the P with his lips, a sound that elicited giggles from my friend and the guy to whom he was now handing a cupcake. (I couldn’t help but note this would also be that guy’s second spiked confection.)
I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to relieve myself of any responsibility I felt over those around me. If they wanted to party, who was I to intervene?
“Have fun,” I said, stepping aside with a controlled smile. My stepping aside was no more than a display of acquiescence — they already had their cupcakes and were noshing away like a couple of pandas tearing into bamboo.
David came up from behind and handed me a glass of Cabernet. “What’s the matter, Captain?” he said, smiling. “Mutiny?”