What’s the only food that can never go bad?
“Oh, I know,” Kat says. “It’s honey,” she adds in a whisper, typing the answer into her phone.
I narrow my eyes, glancing at her doubtfully.
“Seriously. Archaeologists found pots of it in Egyptian tombs. Still edible.”
“You’re so sexy with all your weird facts.”
She smirks. “Hold that thought for the science round.”
Soon, more questions come in—something about the periodic table (she nails it), a geography question I somehow get right, a question about spiders that makes me flinch, and a trick question about the British royal family that neither of us sees coming.
Finally, we’ve answered the last question, and the MCs steps back onto the stage.
“All right, nerds! Tonight’s winners, with a near-perfect score—and I’m slightly worried for their social lives—is team Casually Competitive! Get up here!”
Kat gasps and claps her hands together, then jumps up, throwing her arms around me. I catch her, spinning her in a tight circle. Her laughter is warm in my ear. We bump into the table as I set her down, but she doesn’t let go.
“I told you we’d crush it,” I say, my face close to hers.
Her smile softens. “I never doubted us for a minute.”
I inhale sharply, then kiss her, right there in the middle of the pub. It’s not long or showy, just firm and real, though our rivals-for-the-night still applaud in the background.
As we pull back, her fingers linger at the edge of my shirt. I know one thing for certain—there’s no one else I’d rather win trivia night with. Heck, I wouldn’t even mind losing if it meant being with Kat, but winning is way more fun.
Chapter 20
"Not a bad night to be Katherine Lennox.”
Kat
It’s been a week since our victorious trivia night, and I still get butterflies when I think about that moment. I’ve seen Archie a few times since then, both at his place and at the gym, where we are now. Well, technically we’re at the pool, cooling down with some post-workout laps.
“Only you can fit in a full workout before a twenty-four-hour shift,” he says as we reach the end of the pool, both panting slightly.
I smile, gripping the edge. “Believe it or not, it helps. Gets my body ready and energised for the day. Of all people, you should know, Mister Professional Athlete. I’m pretty sure most footballers don’t complete a full workout at home before training.”
He winces. “Touché. But I have a lot of pent-up energy to burn, what can I say? Race you back?”
“Really?” I feint, raising my brows and pretending to hesitate—before taking off like a torpedo.
I hear a splash behind me, followed by a very dramatic, “Oh, come on!” but I keep swimming, determined not to let him win again. He won the first three laps already—I’m not letting him have this one.
I reach the shallow end just half a second before him, victorious.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air.
“You know that one doesn’t count, right?” he says, slicking his hair back, breathless as he props a hand on his hip. The water only reaches his waist, which gives me an uninvited but not entirely unwelcome view of his glistening abs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in my sweetest voice, turning to climb the stairs out of the pool.
But before I get there, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me back in with a splash. We’re both submerged, the cool water enveloping us.
“Archie!” I sputter as I surface, laughter trickling out of me.
I try to swim away, but he catches up easily. With a mischievous grin, he scoops me up, and before I can protest, he tosses me into the air. I break the surface with another splash, laughing as I come up for air, hair plastered to my face.
