Five
Mark says, tapping the floor with his fingers, the other hand on his knee.
“Alright… mmm… I don’t know. Stand up and drink to this line without stopping,” I order, pointing at the bottle.
For some reason, Mark takes off his purple sweater. I can’t help but follow his bare torso with the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen him like this.
He has tattoos like Sam, well-defined muscles, and a small infinity tattoo below his navel.
I swallow hard and glance discreetly at Sam. He’s been silent, pupils dilated, gaze lost.