Page 125 of Bewitch

“We’re all underage,” I say. “Not quite old enough for that, but I will be more than happy to return after my twenty-first birthday.”

“We would love for that,” he says.

We order our drinks, and he dips down, almost bowing, and walks backward away in that position, basically treating us like royalty. A girl could get used to this.

I glance over and realize we aren’t the only students from the university to have made it here. Several guys are talking and laughing, holding wine glasses even though I’m fairly certain most of them are freshmen too.

Would Bruno have carded us? Probably not, and I’ve been able to convince waiters to serve me underage before, even without having to bribe them. For whatever reason, I wanted to play by the rules.

But maybe not all rules of propriety.

I stand. “I’ll be right back.”

“Going to the bathroom?” Eliza asks. “I’ll go with you.”

I shake my head.

Eliza furrows her brow and then follows my gaze. “Go on then. Get ‘em.”

I laugh and make my way over to the table, brushing my mid-length curly blond hair over my shoulder. “Hello, boys.”

I stress theboys.

There are four guys sitting there, two with brown hair, one redhead, but it’s the one with the blond hair that reaches his shoulder that I find my gaze settling on.

“What can we do for you?” he asks easily enough.

I grin. “It’s my birthday, and I might’ve slipped to the waiter that I’m not yet of a certain age… Do you mind if I have a swallow of your wine?”

He chuckles. “You should never let a man know your age.”

“Maybe not a gentleman, but who’s to say you’re… gentle?”

“Hmm. Maybe you don’ like gentle.”

“Maybe I do at times… and not others.” I hold out a hand.

He lifts his wine glass, and our fingers brush. I maintain eye contact as I swirl the red wine in his glass before taking a sip.

“Not too bad,” I murmur.

“You can have another sip,” he says.

I do just that before giving him back his glass, wanting to touch him again versus just setting his glass on the table.

“I’m Victor Tyler,” he says.

“Kaylie Sweeny.” I grin at him.

When a guy tells me his full name, he only learns my first and last name if I’m interested.

Victor? He has potential. I’ll say that much. He has a captivating smile, and his eyes are winkling, sparkling almost in the stunning light here.

“Do you like the wine?” he asks.

“Very much.”

“I usually prefer whites.”

“What’s wrong with a good blush?” I ask.

The redhead laughs and then groans. “Don’t get Victor here started. He loves to debate.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Victor demands.

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