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“Yes.”

Sebastian snorted. “You are so done for.”

“I am not done for.”

Theo cleared his throat. “You introduced him to us. That’s huge.”

I took a deep breath. “Fine. Quinn is… in my life.”

The phrasing wasn’t accidental.

Theo’s mouth softened into a smile. “About time.”

The door swung open again, and Quinn reappeared, holding a packet of crisps triumphantly. “Success. Okay, it’s not sugary, but it’ll do.”

Nine men immediately rearranged their faces, and of course, he noticed.

He looked between us. “Why do I feel like I’ve missed something?”

“You haven’t,” I lied.

Theo clapped his hands once more. “Right. Half an hour more, then the pub.”

“Pub?” Quinn echoed.

“Only if you behave,” Sebastian informed him.

Quinn turned to me, biting his lip, offering me a questioning gaze.

I smiled. “Yes, you can come to the pub.”

His grin lit up the room.

“See?” Milo muttered. “Done for.”

I ignored him.

But as I turned back towards the group, a small thread of unease tugged at the back of my mind. The pub meant questions. From them. From Quinn.

And I had no idea yet which would be more dangerous.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Max

The pub was its usual chaotic blend of loud music, sticky tables, too much laughter, and glasses clinking against wood. Theo grabbed the big table tucked away in the corner, and we all squeezed in around it.

Quinn sat next to me, close enough that I could smell his hair, his cotton tee, and the underlying warm scent that was pure Quinn.

The one that will probably still be clinging to my pillows tonight.

Theo faced me, quieter than usual, occasionally texting. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know who. That little smile told me everything.

Within thirty seconds of the drinks arriving, Quinn and Milo were arguing about film adaptations.

“I’m telling you, the book was better,” Quinn insisted.

“They always say that,” Julian shot back.