Caleb stepped out of the bathroom with a stiff face. The stench of piss and mold still clung to his nose, making his stomach churn like he was about to puke.
Mike, lounging on his busted chair, let out a chuckle the moment he saw him.
"How was it? Stinks like hell, right? Hahaha! Even I can't stay in there too long without gagging."
Caleb scrubbed his nose roughly, forcing down the nausea. "Tch…"
In the corner, Anderson and Billy were already sprawled out, wasted—mouths smeared with pizza sauce, reeking of cheap booze.
"Caleb," Mike called suddenly.
Caleb's brow lifted. "Hm? Why you calling me Caleb this time? Not Peter?"
Mike leaned in, finger pressed to his lips, voice low and cold.
"Shhh… let's go."
