Page 123 of When In Doubt

Chapter Thirty-Nine

OSCAR

Isqueeze Freya’s hand, trying to ease the tension that runs up her arm. We’re outside Hawkins’ Bar getting ready to head in for Trivia Night. I’ve finally convinced her to join me and the crew.

I want to fold her into every part of my life until it’s not just mine anymore.

“You ready?” I ask her. She nods up at me, a soft smile ghosting over her face. She’s been quiet the last few days. I’ve tried pressing, but she’s been adamant there’s nothing wrong.

I push open the door, and as soon as we get inside, I worry this is a shitty plan. The sound hits me like a wall, making me flinch a little. I imagine how this must be for Freya and turn, but she’s just smiling up at me with a knowing expression as she slips a pair of noise cancelling headphones over her ears.

“I came prepared.” Her voice is just slightly too quiet. I guess with the headphones it’s hard to judge her own volume.

“Smart girl.” I wink, enjoying the way her cheeks redden.

“Murph!” I hear the yell from across the bar and turn to see Ryan, hollering from a table. He moves to yell again when Mack tugs him down by the arm, forcing him back into his seat.

I wrap an arm around Freya’s waist and steer her toward them, turning my shoulder in to help us maneuver through the crowd. Christ, trivia night’s always busy, but I haven’t seen it packed like this for months.

Mack stands when we approach, pulling me into a back-slapping hug. “Nice to see you guys!” He has to yell to be heard over the crowd. He turns to Freya and gives her a warm smile. “Hey, Freya, you look lovely this evening.” She’s wearing another dress that flares out at the waist, this time in an olive green that complements her hair.

“Thank you.” She gives him her at-ease smile.

I move my arm from her waist to drape it around her shoulders, pulling her into me in a possessive gesture that I know the guys will give me shit about later. “Freya, this is Jenna, Justin, and Ryan,” I say, gesturing around the table.

“We’ve met.” Ryan grins and I roll my eyes.

I pull out Freya’s stool and help her into it. As she sits, I catch Justin’s slight frown, an expression I can’t place crossing his features as he looks at Freya’s headphones.

“So, how’s the yarn business treating you?” Ryan asks from his seat next to her. I take the stool on her other side, Mack next to me, with Justin and Jenna across from us.

“It’s good, thank you,” she replies, crossing her arms on the table. I drop a hand onto her thigh and feel the tension there.

“Yeah?” Ryan nods, encouraging her to continue.

“I don’t know if you know Joyce, but she finally stopped by.”

“The old lady who lives up by the high school?” Justin asks, when Freya nods, he says, “Fuck, she was always yelling at me when I was a kid. Why does it matter if she comes into your store?”

Freya’s shoulders curl in, face flushing. I shoot Justin a glare. What is he doing?

“She kind of runs the knitting scene in town.”

“Woah,” Ryan says quietly, “like the mob.”

Freya giggles, nodding sheepishly.

“I never liked her,” Justin mutters. He takes a long drink, a third of his beer disappearing.

We fall into our usual rhythm. Shit talking one another, raucous laughter, and Mack barely managing not to drop his face into his palms as he breaks up yet another argument. Freya doesn’t say anything more, she just sips on the lemonade I bring her and takes it all in, studying the way that the dynamics play out between the crew.

I take hold of one leg of her stool and give it a tug. When she’s within reach, I’m able to settle my hand back around her waist and she tucks in next to me.

A shrill screech of feedback cuts through the clamor, and I see Megan, one of the bartenders and the MC for tonight, climb up onto a small stage in the corner of the room.

“Okay, folks, who’s ready to play?” she calls out to a chorus of cheers. “You’ve all registered your teams at the bar?” I look at Mack and see him nodding. “Great! Now, my glamorous assistant will bring you some answer sheets and we’ll get started in a couple minutes, alright?”

Her assistant tonight ends up being Turner, the bar owner. I watch as he winds his massive frame between the tables, dropping paper and a pencil at each one. He’s broad shouldered and barrel chested, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than three words strung together. I don’t know how Megan convinced him to start up Trivia nights two years ago, but it’s probably the same way she’s managed to get him decorating the bar for Christmas and letting local bands use the stage for live music on Saturday nights.