Page 20 of Midnights
The song ends, and for a brief second, the bar stills. Conversations hum and the low buzz of laughter and movement fills the space between beats.
I’m still catching my breath when Rachel grabs my arm again, already dragging me toward the bar.
“We need more drinks. You’re way too sober for this time of night!” She declares, cutting through the crowd with me behind her. I stumble after her, laughing, because honestly, at this point, resistance is futile.
I think I’m doing pretty well after only the few drinks I’ve had. Then again… maybe I should just get it all out of my system now. One epic crash course in bad decisions, and if I end up sick, I’ll never want to touch alcohol again.I think that's some pretty sound logic.
I stop at the table while she bounces off to the bar, weaving through the crowd like she owns the place.
A few minutes later, she appears with a grin plastered across her face. She's got drinks in one hand, and another round of shots in the other.
Uh-oh.
I narrow my eyes. That looknevermeans anything good. “Alright, what is that?”
She practically vibrates with excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning. “Nothing too fancy, just some vodka with cranberry juice and a lemon drop shot. So basically, it’s healthy. You’re welcome.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Healthy, huh?”
She plops the drinks down triumphantly. “Oh, and bonus? They were already paid for.”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
She winks. “Apparently the dart dudes picked up the tab.”
Lovely. Now they’re buying us drinks.
Maybe weshouldgo over there. Be social. Say thanks. Who knows? We might even have fun.
I’m in no way a dart expert, but the guy I was talking to earlier seemed nice enough… and, let’s be honest, this gives me a chance to get a closer look at the Brooding God over there.
Then, when I go home tonight, at least I’ll have a very attractive face to think about as I fall asleep alone.Small victories.
Decision made. I grab Rachel’s arm, and this timeI’mthe one dragginghertoward the dart game.
“That's my girl!”
Chapter 3
Long Live
Raven
“Hello, boys!” She calls, loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear. “Who’s winning?”
If they weren’t looking at us before, they definitely are now. The whole group pauses their game, turning toward us.
The guy I talked to earlier is the first to speak, flashing that familiar grin.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us,” he teases, the Scottish lilt of his voice is making the words entirely too smooth. “If it’s not the American girls who’ve taken over our pub.”
He winks.
Sarcasm is practically my love language, so I fire back without missing a beat. “Taken over? If it was commandeered that quickly, then you’re lucky we decided to show up to liven the place up.You’re welcome.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the group, and I can’t help but giggle a little becausewhoeven says commandeered?
Well, I guess the list now includes Jack Sparrow and me.
