Page 6 of Devilry

Before we can continue the conversation, another body slides up beside Harper. A little wobbly on his feet, the man grips onto the bar to balance himself.

“A whiskey neat, please,” he slurs.

The bartender pulls at his ear, clearly working out how to cut off the gentleman without making a scene. My gaze flicks from Harper to the stranger and back again. She gives me a quick nod, so I push myself off the bar and squeeze between them.

“Hey, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “How about some water instead?”

He shrugs, forcing my hand to fall off. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet, but the night is still young.”

“Take this,” Harper interjects.

Too shocked to argue, he takes the water and drinks it. All at once.

“Can we get another, please,” I call out.

Another bottle of water is placed in front us, and surprisingly our newfriendtakes it without protest. Sobering up with each sip, he finally gets out of his own head and takes inventory of his surroundings, especially Harper and me.

“The whiskey would've tasted a million times better than this,” he quips.

“I think the words you're looking for are thank you.” Harper's take no shit attitude reminds me of Meghann, and I can't help but smile at the interaction.

“In case you didn’t notice, I was on a mission to get absolutely wasted.”

“Oh, we noticed.” Harper links her arm into his and begins to drag him to a nearby cocktail table.

Waving down the bartender, I ask for another bottle of water before picking up my own drink and following them to where they’re now seated. Noticing a chill in the air between them, I raise an eyebrow at Harper. “Everything okay?”

“Someone was just continuing his ungrateful tirade,” she informs.

“My name’s Miles,” he interrupts.

“I’m Cole.”

He glances at a pissed off Harper. “Are you still not going to tell me your name?”

“It’s Harper,” I blurt out.

“What the fuck?” she chides.

“What?” I shrug, an unapologetic smile on my face. “We’re new, let’s not make enemies before we’ve even started.”

I take a seat beside a perturbed Harper and face a much more focused Miles. “Are you new too?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve worked here for five years.”

“What do you teach?”

“Criminology.”

“What kind of classes does that include?” I ask, continuing to be polite.

“Introduction to Law Enforcement, Forensic Psychology, Interview and Interrogation, and Juvenile Delinquency,” he rattles off.

“So, why aren’t you mingling with everybody else?” I tip my head back to the crowd behind us.

“King is a great school to work at, but the staff are snotty as fuck.”

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