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“Isn’t she an actuary?” That’s what Hazel mentioned the other day. “Why would you be in math classes?”
“She was in my English classes.”
I sit back and fold my arms over my chest. “You like her.”
“We’re friends.” His mouth tightens. “Best friends. And now Kit’s making comments about them getting married.” He downs the rest of his beer. “I don’t want to make things weird with her.” His throat works. “And I’d never do that to Kit,” he says, like that’s the end of it. His expression turns wry. “Maybe I’ll do what you did and find a girl to play my fake girlfriend to make her jealous.”
I nearly choke on my beer, coughing.
“Come on.” He shoots me a grin. “Hazel fuckinghatedyou, and then McKinnon shows up and you’re together? You don’t have to be a genius to figure that one out.”
I start laughing. “Does everyone know?”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “Nah. I didn’t say anything.” Jordan drops off another beer and he thanks her.
“You’re a good guy, Owens.”
“And you’re a good captain.” He clinks his glass against mine. “Cheers, asshole.”
I finish my beer, and because it’s still the break, I catch Jordan’s eye, silently requesting another.
It’s the holiday, and I’m having fun with my friend. Hazel would say I deserve good things in my life.
“The question is,” Owens says with another playful grin, “does Hazel know it’s not fake?’
My smile stretches from ear to ear as I think about her whisperingsay it again. “Yep. Told her last night.” Excitement races through me. I can’t wait to get home to her.
“Ah, shit.” Owens stands and moves to my side of the booth, engulfing me in a back-slapping bear hug while I laugh. “Happy for you, man.”
Streicher walks in the door and waves hello to Jordan before making his way over to us.
“Hey,” Owens calls, lifting his glass as Streicher slides into the booth. “There he is. Get a drink. We’re celebrating.”
* * *
After saying goodnight to Jordan, we pour out of the bar and into the cold, crisp night.
My head’s spinning, so I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “You guys. The air smells so good.”
I think about waking up this morning with my face buried in Hazel’s neck, inhaling her.
My Hazel.
I grab the front of Streicher’s jacket as we walk. “Hazel smells incredible. Does Pippa smell good? Why do girls smell so good?”
He shakes his head at me, smiling, and behind him, Owens and Volkov laugh.
“You’re drunk,” Streicher says.
“I’m drunk,” I admit to them. “I haven’t been drunk in years.”
“Don’t worry, Miller,” Owens says. “We’ll get you home safe to Hazel.”
I hum to myself, thoughts floating. “She’s so pretty.” I dig into my pocket and yank my keys out, holding up the plastic dragon key chain she got me. “Did I show you this? She bought it for me. She made me astocking.” My words smear together.
Owens groans. “You showed us. You showed everyone in the bar.”
I smile at the little dragon, glinting from the streetlights above. It’s so cute. I love it.
