Page 95 of Mine To Hunt

One of the girls in the group keeps leaning toward Al. At first I barely notice it. The music is loud, the lights keep flashing, and everyone is talking over each other.

But after a minute it becomes impossible to ignore. She shifts closer every few seconds, her shoulder brushing his, her fingers trailing lightly along his arm as if it is the most natural thing in the world. Each time she laughs, she tilts toward him again, her hand finding his sleeve, his wrist, his shoulder.

Al pulls his arm back the first time without making a big deal out of it. The second time he shifts his body slightly away. The third time her hand slides across his forearm again and stays there a second longer than necessary.

His jaw tightens.

"Mona." He says, his tone flat, not playful.

She smiles at him anyway, slow and confident, like she thinks she is being charming. "What?" She says, her fingers still resting on his arm. "I missed you."

Al removes her hand and drops it back toward her side, not gently this time. "Yeah." He says sternly. "Don’t."

The word lands heavier than the music.

For a split second she looks surprised. Then she laughs it off like she thinks he is joking. "You’re always like this when you haven’t seen me in a while."

He doesn’t smile back.

"I said don’t." He repeats, this time quieter, sharper. Not loud enough for everyone to notice. Just loud enough for her.

The difference in his tone makes even me sit a little straighter.

Mona’s smile stiffens, but she doesn’t fully retreat. She leans back slightly instead, pouting in a way that looks practiced. "You’re no fun tonight." She mutters, though there’s still a teasing edge in her voice, like she expects him to soften any second.

He doesn’t. He reaches for his drink instead and takes a slow sip, his attention already somewhere else. The dismissal is clear. Final.

Mona presses her lips together, annoyed, but she turns her attention to someone else at the table, pretending she doesn’t care.

I glance at Al without meaning to. He looks completely relaxed, like nothing happened, like that moment never existed. When he notices me looking, he gives me a small shrug, casual, unbothered.

The music swells louder for a moment, the bass vibrating through the table.

One of the guys across from us, I don’t remember his name, reaches toward the tray of drinks and picks up a glass filled with something bright pink. He holds it out toward me.

"Here, Iris. Try this." He says. "House special."

I blink at the glass, then at him. "Oh! No, thank you. I don’t really drink much."

He lifts his brows like I just said something surprising. "Not at all?"

I shake my head slightly. "Not really."

A few voices speak at once.

"Come on, just one."

"It’s light, don’t worry."

"You can’t come to a place like this andnotdrink."

I shift slightly in my seat, feeling the attention turn toward me. Al looks at me then, not pushing, just watching my reaction.

"It’s okay if you don’t want to." He says.

But before I can answer, Tiffany leans forward with an encouraging smile. "It’s just one drink. We’re all here to relax. You’ve had a stressful week, right?"

I hesitate. They’re all looking at me. Not judging. Not pressuring exactly. Just waiting.