Responisble. Fuck.
Jake
That’s what I thought.
We’re on our way.
I let my phone fall to the table. “The boys are coming.”
“Thank God,” Emily sighs dramatically. “I miss Tom.”
“You saw him three hours ago,” Megan says, raising an eyebrow.
“And it’s been three hours too long,” Emily replies, throwing back her wine like she’s in a rom-com montage.
Within fifteen minutes, the testosterone parade arrives—Arden, Chase, Jake, Parker, Asher, José, Robert, Tom, and Rhys. They stroll into Grumpy’s like they own the place: zero subtlety, full pub-mode energy. Our quietish girls’ night dissolves into chaotic co-ed mayhem.
Jake beelines for me, sliding into the booth beside me like he belongs there. His thigh presses against mine under the table, and that familiar heat floods low and fast.
“Miss me?” he murmurs, his breath brushing my cheek.
“Nope.”
“Liar.” His grin is all teeth. “I missed you, too.”
“It’s been four hours.”
“Four hours too long.”
And just like that, I’m melting.
The pub's noise, a mix of clinking glasses, laughter, and someone's karaoke attempt, amplifies as Arden treats the table to another round. It’s loud, but Jake’s arm along the back of the booth makes me feel settled.
Until Megan ruins it.
“So, Jake,” she says far too innocently, “Stella was just telling us how you remind her of Batman’s kinky cousin.”
Silence.
Actual silence.
Even the karaoke cuts out.
Jake turns slowly, eyebrows raised. “Batman’s kinky cousin?”
“Megan!” I hiss, feeling my face ignite. “That was supposed to stay between us!”
“What? It’s a compliment!” she insists, waving her wine glass.
“Batman’s kinky cousin,” Chase repeats, grinning. “This is gold.”
“Oh, this is good,” Asher says, practically rubbing his hands together.
“It was the mask!” I blurt, trying to salvage whatever dignity I have left. “At the masquerade party. He was wearing this black mask and—oh God, why am I explaining this?”
“Because it’s hilarious,” José says. “I want that on a shirt.”
Parker points at Jake, grinning. “It’s official now. That’s your nickname.”