Chapter 61: Sadie: What Are We?

SADIE

Cityside Tavern sits somewhere between classy and full-on bar vibes, though I’m not qualified to say exactly where. Most of the free time I could’ve spent in places like this went toward getting yelled at by Mr. Howard. That left me to imagine bars full of older men whistling at women while everyone else shouts over terrible music.

Trey walks in beside me, and none of that is happening. Warm light falls over dark wood tables and green leather booths, with little brass lamps along the walls.

Dreams plays softly enough that I can hear people talking as Trey and I follow the others through the room. Most of the tables are occupied by people who look like Boreal students. A few men in biker jackets sit off to one side with their drinks, paying less attention to us than I’ve been paying to them.

I’ve only spotted two people smoking by the time we reach three empty tables in the corner. That’s fewer than I expected, though my expectations haven’t been especially reliable tonight.

Walker looks over the tables, then at everyone still coming up behind us. "Don’t think this is going to fit us."

He isn’t wrong. Somewhere between leaving Conte Forum and getting here, half the hockey team acquired a plus-one. I have nothing against casual hookups. Some of these girls are their mates, and some might only be here for tonight; that’s their business. I just don’t intend to stand because somebody else brought a date.

"Sort out your plus-ones," Nash tells the guys as everyone starts claiming seats.

I move toward an opening at the nearest table, but someone reaches it first. Before I can try the next one, a hand shoots out and closes around my waist.

A gasp escapes me as I’m pulled backward. My hands fly out to catch my balance, but I land on Trey or rather, on his lap. His arm stays around my waist and for a few seconds, I can do nothing but stare at him.

He really did that in front of everyone.

I should probably say something, but I can feel his warmth through our jeans, and his face is so close that I lose track of what I meant to say. The rest of the bar seems to fall away while I stare at him, at how the dim light catches his face and makes him look like he’s glowing.

I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at him. "What are you doing?"

"Saving you a seat."

"Where?"

He looks down at his lap.

I frown. "That’s not what I meant."

"Where else are you gonna sit?" He gestures toward the other couples. "You want to stand all night?"

A quick count of the chairs around our three tables proves his point. Priya and a couple of the other girls have found room on the guys’ laps, and there’s still nowhere else to sit. Five more seconds might have made a difference before he grabbed me, but with his face this close, explaining that would mean practically talking into his mouth and I’m not ready to find out whether my breath is as good as I think it is.

So, I try to make myself comfortable on his lap, shifting carefully while my hands hover over my knees. His thigh is right there if I need to steady myself, but touching it feels like a terrible idea.

Act cool, Sadie. Everyone else seems fine.

Especially the girl with Nash, who keeps kissing his ear and looks about ready to climb inside his shirt.

A thought about doing the same to Trey gets as far as would he like it? before I shut it down.

"Comfortable, Quiz Bowl?" he cuts in, leaning close enough that his breath touches my ear.

"Yes." The answer comes out so high-pitched that I want to try again, but doing so would only confirm there’s a reason my voice changed.

And I am comfortable, if we’re counting a hammering heart, a burning face, and the feeling that everyone can tell what I’m thinking. I look toward the rest of the table and ask the first question I can come up with. "So what’s the fun thing you guys do here?"

"We drink, hang out, forget about the game for a while." He sounds entirely at ease. Of course he does. He’s sitting in a chair.

Before I can ask whether there’s more to it, a server arrives with Nash’s order. She sets down two trays crowded with beer, and hands reach for them before she’s finished. Bottles and cans travel around the tables until someone passes one to Trey.

"Open it for me?" he asks.

He had no trouble pulling me onto his lap, but the tab is apparently too much work. I open the can and hand it back anyway. He takes a long drink, and I watch his throat move as he swallows.

He catches me looking and raises the can. "You’re not having one?"

"I hate beer."

"Hate it?"

"Yes. It can mess with your sleep, weaken your wolf, and slow down healing." I eye the can. "It doesn’t even taste good enough to make a case for itself."

Trey gives me a flat look. "Look around. Is this a chemistry class?"

"No, but—"

"Even Nia’s drinking one." He nods across the table. "Your shy friend seems to be doing fine."

"That’s her choice. I’ve stuck to my principle, and it’s working for me."

"Based on what? How fast do you heal?"

"My leg and hand healed in three days, and my eyes are brown again." I turn toward him as far as his arm allows. "You saw how bad they were."

"Ngozi handled your eyes," he says after a gulp. "And most wolves would’ve healed those cuts within a day."

I scrunch my nose at him and look away. He could’ve let me have this one.

"You can get a cocktail if you hate beer," he says. "Or something else. You don’t have to spend the night watching me drink. Have some fun."

"I am having fun. I just—"

"Yo, Boreal!"

Four guys stop beside our table, cutting off my answer. For a moment I think they’re more of Trey’s teammates, until I notice their black-and-silver Providence jackets.

The one in front smiles, showing a gap where a front tooth should be. I might have found that funny if conversation hadn’t gone quiet around us. His face is familiar for another reason too, though I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before tonight’s game.

"What’s up?" His gaze moves past me to Trey. "Nice game, Captain. You’ve improved."

Trey’s hand against my stomach moves back to my waist, holding me more firmly. He stays silent, and I get the feeling the Providence guys came over hoping for exactly this reaction.

"You lost." Dawson lifts his can. "Maybe work on improving yourselves."

The Providence player chuckles. "We can handle a loss once in a while." He looks at Trey, then down at me, his eyes narrowing. "You look familiar."

I’ve been trying to place him too, though his visit is making me less curious. "Have we met?"

He tips his head as if he’s thinking it over. "Can’t say. Come have a drink with me. Maybe we’ll remember."

That’s a bold offer when everyone at our tables looks one word away from biting his fingers off. I’m sitting on Trey’s lap, too, and the way he’s pretending not to see that irritates me almost as much as the invitation.

"No, thanks." I don’t bother with a smile. "If we can’t remember, we can leave it there."

His grin slips before he turns it on Trey. "Is that your answer, or does the captain still make decisions for everybody?"

Trey stiffens, but I respond before he can. "I’m saying no because I don’t want to go with you."

"Your loss. Guess you’re happy spending one night with him."

"I was until you came over." I’d rather not spend the rest of it explaining no to a man determined not to hear it.

A few of our guys laugh. Trey’s mouth lifts at one corner when I look at him, and the fact that he enjoyed my answer makes me want to give the Providence player another one.

Our intruder’s smile fades when he catches the look between us. "You think I’m being rude? I’m telling you how nights like this usually go." He motions toward the crowded tables. "Look around."

"Shut up, Maxwell," Trey says at last. "She told you no. Run along."

Now that I have a name for him, Maxwell leans forward and plants a hand on our table. "I’m talking to her."

"Then you should’ve listened when I answered." I raise a brow.

His jaw tightens as he turns back to Trey. "You gonna let her do all your talking?"

Trey’s hold eases at my waist. "You asked her a question. She answered it. I’m not sure which part you’re struggling with."

Maxwell’s eyes narrow. "Who is she, anyway? The new girl?" His gaze drops to me. "Give it a month."

It’s a cheap shot from someone who doesn’t know either of us, but I still feel it in my chest. "I didn’t ask you."

"Heard Mercer won’t kiss the girls he hooks up with," Maxwell says. "Is he that bad?"

My fingers press into my knees. I’d rather not picture Trey kissing anyone else, and Maxwell has no right to stand here talking about it because I turned down his drink.

"You’re really killing the vibe," I say. "And Trey and I are—"

What are we? I turn toward Trey, hoping his face might give me an answer. His eyes drop to my mouth. For a second, I think he’s going to speak, but he leans in and his hand moves from my waist to my jaw, tilting my face up.

He waits for half a second, close enough that I could still turn away, close enough that this is clearly a question and not a decision he’s already made for both of us.

I don’t turn away.

He catches my mouth in a hard, sudden kiss.