We've got that ultra-strong topical descenter, and some scent-cancelling shower gel if it comes to that. I'll set an alarm for Monday to remind me. I can figure it out.
"Uh, excuse me." My attention snaps towards the clearly uncomfortable beta bartender, who looks incredibly embarrassed and like he wishes he were somewhere else. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his dark jeans, and his neck and face are flushing redder the more he talks. "I'm so sorry I have to say this, but your, uh, scents are getting a bit, um, forthright, and, uh, it's putting some of the other patrons off their drinks…"
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Dellie interjects in a rush of mortification. She pulls a fifty from her purse and shoves it at the man. He holds his hands up to refuse.
"Oh, no. Please. Don't worry about that. Did any of you need me to call you a car?"
I shake my head silently, waving the man away. Dellie's teeth graze her bottom lip. Her eyes flick between Clarke and Sebastian, then James and Zeke, finally landing on me. Her eyebrows twitch in a tiny, silent question. I keep my smile relaxed as I cock my head slightly, leaving the answer up to her.
She smiles shyly back at me, takes a nervous breath, looks at the bartender, and slowly shakes her head. "I… I'm all good. Thanks."
Something brightens and warms inside me.
Dellie's face has flushed the most delectable shade of pink as we watch the bartender scurry away. Her blue eyes are stormy with worry. There's a familiar undertone of need in her scent that calls to me on a level I don't want to acknowledge.
"Look, I'm sorry if this is, uh, rushed—but did you want to, I don't know, find somewhere we can, um, keep…talking?" The rosy blush spreads further across her chest. Aseries of conflicted expressions flit across her face, like she can't believe that just came out of her mouth, but is also a little glad that it did.
Her eyes flick around the room anxiously, but settle when they meet mine. I take a step closer to her, and brush a couple of stray waves of dark honey colored hair behind her ear, my eyes never leaving hers.
"I… Yes. I think all of us would like that very much." My voice is husky. I clear my throat.
Clarke takes a half step closer to both of us. He brushes her elbow and smiles gently at her. I see Zeke grabbing the remainder of our scattered belongings, as the others quickly down the last of their drinks. We drift towards the dimly lit red staircase that will spew us back out into the evening.
"It's pretty late," I muse as I climb the stairs behind her, "and most places are either too noisy for a decent conversation or closing."
"Or full of people who've had abittoo much liquid courage and are starting to get a bit too handsy," Seb mutters from behind me. She lets out a chuckle.
We spill out onto the pavement. Cool evening air wafts across my face. She looks around nervously, as though she's expecting trouble. I frown for a moment, but she seems to relax once it's clear there's nobody else on the pavement other than some tourists and a handful of drunks. I clear my throat. "If you wanted to, you could come back to ours for a chat and another drink—but only if you're comfortable with that."
Seb leans comfortably on my shoulder. I can see his reassuring grin from the corner of my eye.
She glances between us and nods. "I think… yeah. I think that might be nice."
"Is there someone you can call and let them know who you're with and where you are going?" Clarke asks.
Her face relaxes into a gentle smile. "Yeah. Definitely. Loz will kill me if I don't let her know where I am."
"Loz?" I ask.
"Mmm. My bestie, and fair warning, she will hunt you down if anything happens to me."
Seb bursts out laughing.
I smile. "Good. You should have people who look after you. Call her, little starlet. Zeke's gone to get our driver. Your friend can vet us while we wait."
She pulls her phone from her purse, hits the contact marked 'Loz', hitting the speaker button so we can all hear. "Hey, Loz!" Her voice is breathy with excitement.
"Yeah, babe? You getting dicked down by some hot alphas? Or betas, no judgement." The thick Aussie accent blares down the phone. I think it's the one Seb called 'bogan'. Or maybe 'ocker'. He swears there is a difference, but I can't pick it.
Dellie closes her eyes, her lips pinching back a mortified smile. Seb bursts out laughing.
"Sorry, Loz. You're on speaker. Uh. I probably shoulda led with that." Her voice has gone squeaky.
There's a loud snort from the other end of the phone. "Yeah, that woulda been a good idea. Who's with ya?"
Dellie clears her throat. "Uh. Some—some guys I met tonight… uh…"
"Huh. Lemme talk to the fuckers."
