“Oh, it’s a struggle,” I offer happily. I’m playing my part. I’m not sure what part Oliver is playing. “With Olly, every day is a struggle.”
My nickname seems to pull him back to us. In a blink, he turns all suave and sleek. He lifts my hand to his lips, his thumb sliding over the statement-piece ring like a subtle reminder.
“A struggle to keep your hands off me, more like.” His gaze sweeps over me, bold and possessive.
“That’s true. Sometimes I want to squeeze you so hard and never let go”—thanks to my heels, it’s easier to press my lips to his ear as I whisper—“of your windpipe especially.”
“It only seems kinky the first time, darling.”
“Hey, enough of that,” Fin playfully complains. “No PDAs. You’ll make a single guy jealous.”
“We can’t seem to help ourselves.” Oliver grins. Two–one to him.
“Well, try harder,” Fin says flatly, lifting my hand from Oliver. He says nothing about the ring. “You look stunning this evening.” His eyes move over me appreciatively, encouraging me to do a little twirl. I giggle because it’s silly but all in good fun. Fin is a flatterer, and I get the sense he knows how to treat (if not keep) a girl.
“Thank you, Fin. You can pay me all the compliments you like.”
“You never say that to me,” Oliver puts in, aggrieved.
“Maybe I’m just treating you mean.”
“It’s keeping him more than keen,” Fin says with a chuckle. “If you ever get sick of this one ...” He throws a thumb in Oliver’s direction.
“It won’t be you she comes looking for,” my so-called beloved retorts.
“No, ’cause it’ll be me.” Matt arrives by my side and bestows on me a one-armed hug, I guess because his other hand is occupied with a plate brimming with food. “How are you, Eve? Want a little nibble?” He offers me his plate.
“For fuck’s sakes!” Oliver complains.
“Food, man,” Matt protests.
“I’m good,” I answer with a soft laugh.
“Looking good, too, I see.”
“Will you two stop ogling my date?”
“Ah, shut your face. How is it,” Matt continues, “that out of the three of us, you’re the one with the date?”
“I’m sure neither of you will be going home alone,” Oliver mutters.
“A scurrilous accusation!” Matt complains like an old maid.
“One that lands like an arrow,” Oliver bites.
“Don’t begrudge us poor bachelors our little pleasures.”
“My pleasure isn’t little,” Fin puts in. And if I wasn’t laughing before, I am now.
“Honestly, have you seen the state of him?” Matt jerks his head toward a smiling Fin. “Fat chance of him finding love, dressed in a green suit. A green suit!” He gives a slow, sorrowful shake of his head.
“It’s black, not green.” Fin sounds wounded. “Who the fuck would wear a green suit?”
“You, clearly,” Oliver drawls.
“I suppose he does have enough cheek for two arses,” Matt says, which I take to mean Fin doesn’t give a stuff for anyone’sopinion, because he sure as heck doesn’t look like a chipmunk. “God love him, he shouldn’t be allowed to go clothes shopping himself.” With a pitying glance, he adds, “He’s also color blind.”
“Defective,” Oliver adds.
