19. “You’re so sexy with all your weird facts.”
“You’re so sexy with all your weird facts.”
Archie
I had a hard time focusing on training yesterday, and I slept terribly. I bolted up in my bed in the middle of the night, wondering if Kat was back from her shift and if she was okay. I know I shouldn’t care so much—it’s just casual, right? But somehow, I can’t help it.
I’m about to head out to the training centre when Kat’s door opens. She steps out wearing black leggings and a loose white top, hair pulled up into a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—still gorgeous.
“Oh, hey.” She offers a soft smile as she adjusts the strap of her tote. “I’m heading out to grab breakfast. Forgot to go grocery shopping again.”
I chuckle. “Sounds fun. Wish I could come, but duty calls.” Although I’m pretty sure I’d call in sick if she asked me to. “Speaking of,” I say as we wait for the lift. “Did you watch the match last night?”
“No,” she shoots back quickly, her shoulders tensing. “I told you, I don’t really have time when I’m at work. Sometimes I can’t even eat a proper meal.”
“Okay. In that case, I’ll give you the play-by-play, as promised. Don’t worry.”
Her eyes crinkle into a smile. “Oh, I really wasn’t.”
The lift pings, and we step inside.
“What time are you starting today?” I ask, pressing the button for the garage level.
“I’m off. Starting tomorrow with an early shift.”
My heart kicks up a notch. “How about an early dinner, then? You can even pick the restaurant.”
She bites her lip, eyes dropping for a second before meeting mine again. “Sure. Yeah.”
I nod, trying to play it cool, even though I feel like I just won the Champions League. “Awesome. It’s a… um, plan.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Training will be slightly more tolerable knowing I’ll spend my evening with you.”
“Aren’t you a charmer,” she murmurs, stepping toward me.
And that’s all the signal I need.
I close the gap between us and press my mouth to hers, gently at first, testing if this is real, if she’ll let me.
But she doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t hesitate.
Her hands clutch the front of my jacket, and I deepen the kiss, unable to help myself.
Her lips are soft, insistent, matching my energy beat for beat.
It’s frantic in the best way, like we’re trying to make up for all the times we refused to go near each other.
Too soon, the lift pings, and the doors slide open.
“Well,” she says, exiting the lift while adjusting her tote on her shoulder, as if nothing happened. “Have a good training session. See you tonight.”
I flash a grin as we walk toward our cars. “Can’t wait.”
My performance at training won’t be something for the history books. At least, I hope not, because Finn might never let me live it down. I let more goals in than I blocked, which is definitely unusual for me.
Thankfully, it’s all behind me for now. Katherine and I just parked in a side street, the pavement awash beneath the glow of a streetlamp. She hasn’t revealed where we’re going yet, so I’m kind of expecting the worst.
We wander down the pavement side by side. Finally, she stops in front of a pub, and I do a double take.
“I didn’t pin you for a pub girl.”
“I’m not,” she says. “But they have the best food here. Trust me.”
She pushes the door open, and I follow after her. It’s charming and a lot more elegant than I imagined. Dim lighting, green leather booths, exposed brick walls, and the soft murmur of conversation underlaid with music playing at just the right volume.
We weave through the crowd to an empty booth near the window, and I slide in across from her.
A waiter swings by—a young guy with bleached hair, a pierced ear, and a warm smile. Kat orders the grilled chicken burger. I go for the classic fish and chips. Just as the waiter is about to turn away, he pauses.
“Oh, and just so you know, it’s trivia night. Kicks off in about fifteen. Want to sign up?”
Before I can answer, Katherine closes her menu with a calm, dangerous smile.
“Yes, please.”
My jaw drops a few inches. “You did not bring me here for trivia night!” I say as the waiter disappears.
She shrugs. “I brought you here for dinner. Trivia is just a happy coincidence.”
I narrow my eyes. “How many pubs did you sift through to find one with trivia on a Tuesday night?”
She avoids my gaze.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she says, batting her eyelashes. “And besides, I know you’re as competitive as I am.”
“Fine,” I say, leaning back. “But if we do this, we’re crushing them.”
She gives me a satisfied smile. “Naturally.”
A moment later, the waiter comes back with our drinks and a QR code. “You need to download the app and enter your team name. The MC will take it from there in a few minutes.”
Katherine raises her eyebrows at me. “Suggestions?”
“‘Casually Competitive’?”
She smiles. “Fitting.” After entering our team name on her phone, she places it between us.
“How was work today?”
She scrunches her face. “Quiet. No dramatic late-night traumas, no broken ribs, no ‘someone’s done something unbelievably stupid and is now stuck with something they shouldn’t be.’”
“That’s oddly specific.”
She nods. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Last week, one guy came in with a table leg stuck through his—actually, you know what? Enjoy your drink.”
I put my drink down. “That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea,” she says, her lips twitching with a grin. “But seriously, yesterday was boring. Which is good.”
The waiter returns with our food. Kat’s chicken burger is stacked almost too high to eat politely, and my plate of fish and chips is steaming like a dream.
“Wow,” I say after a few bites. “You weren’t lying about the food.”
“You really doubted my honesty?” she teases before taking a bite. “I’m hurt. Like I said, I’ve been here before, and it’s really good.”
I try not to wonder who she came here with and focus instead on her… and these incredible chips.
We chat about her job—still avoiding the gory details—and when she asks about my training, I keep it vague, not in the mood to admit I played like a hungover raccoon today. Luckily, a voice booms over the speakers, saving me.
“Ladies and gents!” A guy in a loud floral shirt steps up, a mic in one hand, a tablet in the other.
“Welcome to Tuesday Night Trivia here at The Queen’s Pint!
Tonight’s theme is ‘Totally Random,’ which means anything goes.
History, movies, pop culture, science, royal scandals…
we’re testing your knowledge of it all. So, log in, warm up those brain cells, and may the best team win!
We’ve got six rounds—no cheating, no googling—and if you win this first round, there’s a ￡25 gift card with your name on it. ”
Kat pops a chip in her mouth, then grins. “You ready?”
“I was born ready,” I say, cracking my knuckles.
A bell chimes, and the first question pops up on screen:
“What is the capital of Uganda?”
Kat’s eyebrows lift as she looks at me. “Well, if you get this one wrong, I’m walking out.”
I grin, rolling my eyes. “Please. Kampala.”
She taps it into her phone, her lips twitching. “That was just a warm-up, wasn’t it?”
“Better have been,” I say, glancing around, but the other teams seem to be struggling. “I told you the Universe was playing with us. First question is about Uganda, really?”
She chuckles. “You’re unbelievable. Can’t accept coincidences, can you?”
“Nope, not when they’re this obvious.” I grin.
“Did you know I wasn’t even supposed to go on the mission this summer?
I applied too late, and they didn’t have space.
I couldn’t do the next round because of Noah’s wedding.
They called me about four days in advance to let me know a spot had opened up. ”
“Uh-huh,” she says, nodding. “Well, I’m glad you ended up going. Otherwise, we’d still be shouting at each other across the landing.”
“Right?” I smile. “Way more relaxing this way.”
Another chime, and we bring our focus back to the phone.
I voice the question. “Who scored the infamous ‘Hand of God’ goal in the 1986 World Cup?”
“This one’s all you,” Kat says, turning the phone toward me.
“Easy.” I grab the phone and type in ‘Maradona.’ “My dad was a hockey fan, but Diego Maradona was his idol.”
“Oh,” she says. “Your dad passed away, right?”
I nod. “When I was fourteen. Probably one of the worst years of my life. Not long after, Noah left for the US. It was hard to be happy for him.”
She frowns. “Wait. Noah’s only a couple of years older than you, right?”
“Yep. But my uncle—our dad’s brother, who was a high school hockey coach—took him under his wing and resolved to help him get into the NHL. Well, the plan worked.”
“And you stayed behind. That’s a little cruel.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyes trained on me.
“I guess. My aunt and uncle offered to take me in as well, but I was happy here. I was making waves at the Regents academy, and I had no desire to move to the US, where they don’t even appreciate football.”
She smiles. “Yeah, I get that. I’m glad you guys are still close, despite your rocky past. I saw you together at the wedding. Looking at you two, you wouldn’t think you’d spent such a huge portion of your childhood away from one another.”
“Yeah, I guess it just became our dynamic. We’ve been living in different parts of the world for years, so we had to adapt. We did a lot of video calls—still do—and that’s enough for us.”
“It’s the same for Grace and me. Even when we both lived in London, we weren’t able to see each other often, so it just became a habit.”
“All right, ladies and gents,” the MC announces. “Time for our third question.”
Seconds later, it pops up on our screen: In Love Actually, who plays the British Prime Minister?
Kat taps in “Hugh Grant” with no hesitation.
“That was disturbingly fast,” I joke.
“Love Actually was basically emotional Prozac in my house growing up. Nothing like sitting on the couch, stress-eating chocolate and ice cream while Hugh broke out his best dance moves on screen.”
I smile, picturing it in my head. “Wasn’t always easy, huh?”
Her eyes widen, as if she just gave something away without meaning to, and she plays with a crumb on the table.
“You could say that. My dad left as soon as my mum told him she was pregnant, and then it was just the two of us. I told you this before, but she was quite unstable, and I had to pick up the slack. Well, she’s still a little flighty, I guess. ”
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking her hand and caressing it with my thumb.
“Thanks.” Her deep brown eyes settle on me, and suddenly, I wish I could take all of her pain and worry and bear it myself. She doesn’t deserve to carry this weight. “It kind of got better, and, well, she’s having that spot removed, so that’s a small victory.”
“Yes, she told me. I was pretty relieved.”
“Oh yeah, she told me too,” she says, eyes teasing. “She was so excited that you texted her. You have no idea.”
“Do I sense a hint of jealousy?” I raise an eyebrow.
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Definitely not. And anyway, how can I be jealous of a text? We don’t even have each other’s number.”
“Is that your way of asking for my number? Because I’ll totally give it to you,” I reply in a low voice. I lean over to kiss her, but another ding pierces through the pub, and the MC announces the next question:
What’s the only food that can never go bad?
“Oh, I know,” Kat says. “It’s honey,” she adds in a whisper, typing the answer into her phone.
I narrow my eyes, glancing at her doubtfully.
“Seriously. Archaeologists found pots of it in Egyptian tombs. Still edible.”
“You’re so sexy with all your weird facts.”
She smirks. “Hold that thought for the science round.”
Soon, more questions come in—something about the periodic table (she nails it), a geography question I somehow get right, a question about spiders that makes me flinch, and a trick question about the British royal family that neither of us sees coming.
Finally, we’ve answered the last question, and the MCs steps back onto the stage.
“All right, nerds! Tonight’s winners, with a near-perfect score—and I’m slightly worried for their social lives—is team Casually Competitive! Get up here!”
Kat gasps and claps her hands together, then jumps up, throwing her arms around me. I catch her, spinning her in a tight circle. Her laughter is warm in my ear. We bump into the table as I set her down, but she doesn’t let go.
“I told you we’d crush it,” I say, my face close to hers.
Her smile softens. “I never doubted us for a minute.”
I inhale sharply, then kiss her, right there in the middle of the pub. It’s not long or showy, just firm and real, though our rivals-for-the-night still applaud in the background.
As we pull back, her fingers linger at the edge of my shirt. I know one thing for certain—there’s no one else I’d rather win trivia night with. Heck, I wouldn’t even mind losing if it meant being with Kat, but winning is way more fun.