Page 40 of The Proposal Pact
“What she said,” Joy agrees. “These drinks are not just drinks.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have no idea what kind of voodoo spells Willa puts in them, but each drink has some special power that will make you do stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“It depends on the drink,” Julie adds. “But Hope just ordered something to unwind and relax, so you should be relatively safe.”
“Said no one ever about Willa’s brews.”
I frown, my eyes volleying between them. It’s just drinks, how bad can it be?”
“But I don’t wannaaaa go homeeee. I want to paaaartyyyy,” I sing-song, trying to pull out of Luke’s strong hold. “Set me down, Luke!”
“Not happening, Soph. The party is over.”
“No, it’s not! Where is my partner-in-crime Hope? HOPE?”
“Jesus Christ, Sophie, my ears!”
“Oops! HOPEEEE,” I whisper-shout.
“Your partner-in-crime was in an even worse shape than you when Alec carted her out of there, so there will be no more partying for anyone.”
“Well, I didn’t agree to that.” I pout. “Gracie! Your grump shut down my party!”
“The bar closed, Sophie, andGracieis unavailable for comment at this time. She’s done enough for one night.”
“It did?” I frown. “Well, that’s unfortunate. And stop giving my best friend glares.”
“How do you know I’m giving her a glare? You’re facing my back.”
“I can feel it through your aura.”
“Oh, goodie! You got accustomed to Loverly Cave really fast,” Luke says dryly, and I’m about to say something back but then I see the ocean and forget what I was about to say.
“I see water! I wanna go swim.”
“Sophie! Stop. Moving. You’re not going swimming. You’re going home to sleep it off and pray the hangover in the morning isn’t too bad.”
“Who are you calling drunk? I’m not drunk! I’m a respoponsiple—wait, that didn’t sound right—I’m a repso…responsible—there we go—adult! I don’t get drunk.”
Hiccup.
“Gracie, do you want to go swimming with me?” I prop my elbow against Luke’s back.
“Sure,” she says but then very quickly adds, “Tomorrow! Lumos, I mean tomorrow, Luke. Seriously, stop glaring.”
“Ha!”Hiccup. “See, I knew you were glaring. Maybe I’m clearvoyant—wait, that doesn’t sound right—clairv…claywor…”
“Clairvoyant?” Grace says, and I snap my fingers.
“There, that’s the one. I think Willa’s drinks opened my third eye.”
“I’d like to say what it opened, but I’ll hold my tongue,” Luke mutters. “Thank God, you live down the street.”
“I wanna sing, can I sing? What song should I sing, Gracie?”
