Page 99 of Bound By Threads
Zara snorts. “You mean not covered in glitter and body oil?”
“Exactly,” Angel says. “But sexy. Always sexy. We want to give Archer and Oscar a heart attack.”
The three of us laugh, and for a moment, the weight lifts.
No drama.
Just the girl I strip beside, and the one who shares my obsession with shark migration.
* * *
The bar is dim,the kind of place where the music is just loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Angel and Zara are already at a booth, and Archer and Oscar stand behind me.
“We’ll be at the bar if you need us,” Archer says.
“And just wave a hand if you girls need more drinks. Let us spoil you…”Oscar gives me a deadpan look as I go to protest.
I sigh, signing.“Thank you, but we can buy our own drinks.”
“Oh, I’m not the one paying. That’s on boyfriend number two’s card,”Oscar gestures, then points over his shoulder to Archer with a wink.“Now go to your friends.”
I do as I’m told and slide into the booth beside them.
Angel raises an eyebrow. “You good?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just… processing. Oscar says drinks are on Archer, by the way.”
Zara hoots, waving her hand to the guys at the bar, bouncing in her seat. “Drinks, sir!Please!”
Sure enough, five minutes later, three trashy cocktails with umbrellas are placed in front of us.
I’m nursing my third cocktail when the door to the bar swings open, and I see them.
They walk in like they own the place, heads turning as they pass... maybe it has more to do with the fact that two out of three are stained bright red.
All three are dressed in black jeans and a shirt, Crew wearing a leather jacket over his.
They settle into a booth a few tables away. Roman and Elijah are talking, oblivious to me spiralling, but Crew—he’s looking around, his gaze landing on me for just a second before he looks away.
I don’t know why, but my heart skips a beat.
Crew goes to the bar, returning with two bottles of beer and a can of soda.
Then, the bartender walks over with a cocktail—a bright red drink with a little umbrella. He sets it down in front of me without a word.
I glance up, confused. “This isn’t mine.”
The bartender nods towards the booth. “From the guy who looks like a tomato wearing a leather jacket.”
I look over, catching Crew’s eye. He gives me a blinding smile.
I stare at the drink, half wondering if he’s tampered with it like he did my brownie, but then he’s there, a sad look in his eye.
Crew leans down, taking a long drag from the straw. “It’s safe. I’m sorry, I didn’t think, but I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. Enjoy your night, Lottie.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left watching him slide back into the booth with Roman and Elijah.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to feel.
