I'm not entirely sure whatmake it a thingmeans in this context, but looking at Maren's approving smile and Arthur's grin... I guess we're officially making it a thing.
8
Beth
I'm halfway through another rosemary-honey bourbon smash when Knox walks in, followed by Mason.
They spot us immediately. Arthur, behind the taps, hits them with a casual two-finger salute without breaking his pour. Knox parts the sea of flannel-clad locals and slides into the booth next to Maren, who scoots without complaint. Mason drops into the seat next to me.
The booth was built for four average-sized humans, and Mason is not an average-sized human. My left side is now flush against approximately two hundred and twenty pounds of alpha, and my right hip is making acquaintance with the booth wall.
"Drink?" Arthur calls over the noise.
Knox holds up a finger. "One Bahama Mama."
Mason looks at my glass. "Whatever she's having."
Maren catches my eye across the table. I press my lips together. She presses hers together. Two alphas who could probably deadlift a sedan, and between them they've ordered a tropical cocktail and a honey bourbon smash with a rosemarygarnish. Somewhere, a lumberjack just felt a disturbance in the force.
Arthur grins and mouths what I'm pretty sure is"Coming right up."(since I sadly lack the sonar-like hearing of an Alpha, I'm forced to rely on lip-reading).
The door opens and Luna walks in. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are bright, and she's radiating the kind of energy usually reserved for people who've just been told their flight's been upgraded. She squishes into the booth next to Knox, completely oblivious to him until he flattens himself against Maren to give her room.
"Oh!" She blinks. "Oh—hi!" Her gaze lingers on him for one second, then swings to Mason, then to me. "Did I miss something?"
"Arthur texted my otherboyfriendsto come hang," I say, winking, and take a sip of my drink.
Knox's mouth twitches. "Thought I saw you outside. Wasn't one hundred percent sure with another person's face attached to yours."
Maren's head whips toward Luna. "Oh my god!"
"Luna!" I gasp. "You kissed Derek??"
Luna smiles—wide, dazed, slightly unhinged. I guess the state of her lip gloss could've told me everything I needed to know.
"Sure did." She sighs happily. "He bounced to go find his cousin, but I'm thinking I might text him later. Have him walk me to my car."
Maren raises an eyebrow. "Just to your car?"
Luna turns the color of a ripe strawberry. "I am refusing to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me."
"Look at you," I say, nudging her across the table. "Squeezing in an entire romantic subplot before last call."
Luna beams. "I'm nothing if not efficient."
Our booth is, and this is an understatement, crowded. I'm wedged between Mason and the booth wall. Luna, Maren, and Knox are hip to hip across from us. Arthur arrives with a Bahama Mama and a bourbon smash, and the grin he gives the five of us crammed into the booth suggests he's enjoying this.
"You all look like sardines," Arthur says, setting the drinks down. "Should I grab a chair for you?"
"Oh,yes please," Maren says, pressing a hand to her chest. "Thank god."
Arthur disappears and returns in seconds, and Knox extracts himself from the booth and settles into the chair at the end of the table. Then Mason makes a low, appreciativemmhsound as he takes his first sip of the bourbon smash.
Luna, who wasn't here for the ordering, looks from Knox's Bahama Mama to Mason's rosemary-honey bourbon smash. "Okay, not to bethatperson," she says, "but what's up with the pretty drinks?"
Knox looks down at his glass. "What? It's a Bahama Mama."
Mason glances at Luna's glass. Then at mine. Then back at Luna's. "We're literally drinking the same thing."
