Page 47 of Line Change

Tessa studies me. “Personal trainer.”

“I have several of those at work, and I don’t fuck any of them.”

Micah points at me. “You are fucking somebody.”

Shit.

The host starts reading the answers before they can celebrate. We get the capital of Mongolia wrong because Micah insisted it was Bishkek, then lose another point on a question about a Broadway musical none of us has seen.

“And the world’s smallest penguin species,” the host says, pausing while the room quiets, “is the little penguin, also known as the fairy penguin.”

A laugh barks out of me. Tessa turns slowly, still holding the pen.

“Don’t,” she says.

“You doubted me.” I tap the correct answer on the sheet.

“You guessed.”

“I still got it right.”

Micah takes the pen from her and marks the point. I lean back and enjoy being right.

Trivia ends with us out of the prizes, mostly because of Ulaanbaatar and whatever a Jellicle cat is. Tessa maintains that the penguin point belongs to her because she wrote it down. Micah starts building a case for replacing both of us next week.

My phone vibrates again.

Outside.

I check the time. Pope is three minutes early.

Be a few more minutes, I type.

My thumb hovers. Then I add, You can come in for a beer if you want.

The regret is immediate.

Tessa and Micah are going to know something is up the second they see him. I don’t bring hockey friends to Marlowe’s. Bobby was the one exception, and he sat so stiff through one beer that I thought he’d turned into wood.

This place is where I get to be Normal Nolan with my normal friends. Tessa has never asked about the power play. Micah thinks icing is something that belongs on a cake, and he refuses to learn otherwise. Hockey Nolan can stay at the rink for one night.

Now I’ve invited my center inside.

The door opens before I can tell him to stay outside.

He steps into Marlowe’s wearing dark jeans and a black jacket, big enough that the room seems to lose a little space around him. Micah looks at Ben, then at me, his eyes going wide. Tessa’s hand clamps over Micah’s wrist before he can point.

I ignore both of them.

Pope stops a few feet inside. His gaze catches on the rainbow stickers behind the bar before moving to the two men pressed together in the nearest booth. His shoulders go tight. Shit. He didn’t look up the place before coming.

The bartender asks what he wants. Pope looks at the taps, orders a beer, and stays exactly where he is while it’s poured. I take a full breath when he doesn’t turn around.

He pays, picks up the glass, and walks toward us.

“Nolan,” Tessa says, drawing my name out, “introduce us to your friend.”

Micah looks close to physical pain from holding in whatever he wants to say.