"Are you having nightmares again?"
Hearing the voice behind him, Jonah squeezed his eyes shut, then turned around, the air from the refrigerator gently cooling his back. Since when did she know he got nightmares? He'd woken up sweaty and panicked, so he'd come to the kitchen to stick his head in the fridge in peace. Apparently, though, he hadn't been quite as sneaky as he thought. "What? No, I came to get a drink," he threw a thumb over his shoulder. "You want a midnight-- er," he glanced at the time shining from the microwave, then corrected himself. "A three-thirty-seven AM screwdriver?" He turned to reach into the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, then took it over to the counter where the already open bottle of vodka had been drunkenly placed hours before. "I hear they're great for pre-sex," he forced a chuckle.
