Chapter 11
GAME FACE
Taylor
It had already gone nine when they pulled up at the restaurant. Johnny had changed into a light linen shirt and swapped his joggers for jeans. Taylor stayed in his chino shorts because the night air was still humid as hell.
Maman was in the back room, balancing the books like the goddamned Superwoman she was. She had her headphones on and was scribbling furiously into a dog-eared notepad. Papa was in his usual spot behind the bar, mixing cocktails and pouring pints to give to the waitstaff.
The night was winding down, but a few customers were still chatting away as they hung strips of meat over their tabletop grills.
“Here—they—are!” Papa sang to the tune of ‘Take on Me.’ He was pouring something that looked like frothy brown sludge into a dainty little glass. “My boys!”
“Bonsoir,” Johnny said, dropping a crate of Kofi’s home brew onto the bar. The bottles jingled, and Papa gave the crate a look of disdain.
“Not again,” he said, shaking his head. “Kofi’s a sneaky little con, getting you to bring it here.”
Johnny shrugged, placing a second crate next to it. “Sorry, but in a toss-up between you and Aunt Chi, I’ll take your huffing and swearing ten times over.”
Papa sucked his teeth and shot a look at Taylor. Taylor let out a nervous laugh and took a seat at the bar. “Sorry, old man, I’m with JP on this one.”
Johnny nodded, sliding onto the stool next to him. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
Papa scoffed, ripping two bottles out of the crate and tearing off the caps. “Not that bad, eh? Go on, then. Drink up,” he said, pushing the bottles towards them.
They both eyed the drinks, then one another before picking them up and tentatively clinking the necks of the bottles together. “Cheers,” Taylor said, raising the bottle to his lips. Johnny did the same, but didn’t drink. Neither did Taylor.
He gave Johnny a look that said ‘You drink it,’ to which Johnny replied ‘No way. You fucking drink it.’
Luckily, they were saved by the sound of the toilet door opening and two more people joining them at the bar.
“Hello again!” came a soft male voice. “Fancy seeing you tonight.”
It was Theo, the omega from a few nights prior, and at his side was Emily, the girl with the shitty date.
They were dressed up to the nines—Theo in a billowy salmon pink shirt and Emily in an extremely low-cut dress with a jacket around her shoulders.
They were all sparkly and smelled like strawberries, and Taylor had to manually push his jaw back into place at the sight of them.
Johnny slowly put the bottle on the bar and looked over. “Evening,” he said, letting out a quiet breath.
Theo beamed, his perfectly straight teeth surrounded by perfectly glossed lips.
A strand of Emily’s hair fell over her shoulder as she glanced down at the bar, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.
Taylor took a swig from the bottle, trying to disguise the fact that he was staring, but immediately regretted it when a glug of Kofi’s home brew sloshed down his throat.
He coughed, then spluttered, and soon Johnny was having to smack his back as the drink nearly sprayed out of his nose.
“Eve–ning,” he coughed, turning his head as he blew into a napkin.
Johnny smirked. “Smooth, dude. Smooth.”
“Fuck you,” Taylor said under his breath.
Theo was laughing, but Emily gave him a sympathetic look as she leant over and handed him a tissue from inside her purse. Women really did just have everything inside those tiny bags.
“Thanks,” Taylor said, wiping his nose.
“So, are you on table service again or is it your night off?” Theo said, plucking the olive from his glass and sucking it off the cocktail stick.
He held it between his lips just long enough that both his and Johnny’s eyes drifted to his mouth.
Theo smirked around the olive before hooking it into his mouth with his tongue, and Taylor found that he’d taken a sudden liking to olives.
“Night off tonight,” Johnny replied, nodding to Papa as he handed both him and Taylor an actual beer. “Unless Maman decides she needs another pair of hands.”
“Maman?” Theo said, playfully cocking an eyebrow. “You actually speak French, then?”
Johnny’s mouth opened and closed before he said, “Yeah, it’s the national language of Cameroon.”
“Well, that’s just sexy as hell,” Theo replied, placing the cocktail stick between his teeth.
Wow, the guy really was going straight to Chatupsville. Taylor could respect that—no sense in hanging around.
Johnny nodded and took another drink. “If you’re into that, I guess.”
He examined his nails, acting like he didn’t give a shit that there were two bombshells sitting next to them. Taylor looked between him and Theo, then kicked Johnny’s ankle under the bar. “Stop playing hard to get,” he whispered against his ear.
It’d been over two months since either of them had seen any action, but the way Theo was giving Johnny the eyes and Emily was twirling her hair told Taylor that it was abso-fucking-lutely game on.
“So…” Taylor said, flicking his eyes to Papa, then to the omegas’ nearly empty drinks. Papa gave him a wry smile and started mixing. “Any more shit dates you need saving from?”
Taylor rested his arm on Johnny’s shoulder, giving his cheek a little pinch to force him to look up.
Emily blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was a real cutie. “Um, no, thanks. No more of those for a while, I don’t think.”
Taylor smiled, flashing them both some fang. “No? What if Prince Charming came and swept you off your feet tonight?” He pinched Johnny’s cheek again, which only earned him a scowl. “Come on, dude.”
Johnny sighed, running his tongue over his top lip before lifting his pint to his mouth and downing the entire thing. Sliding the glass towards Papa, he finally lifted his head and smiled.
That was definitely more fucking like it.
“W-well,” Emily stuttered, clasping her hands in her lap, “I suppose—”
“We’re down for being swept,” Theo said, lacing his fingers with Emily’s. “If a couple of gentlemen were to come along and… you know.” His eyes dragged over Johnny, and it was so fucking obvious it made Taylor’s skin prickle. Omegas had their own tricks, after all.
Theo giggled and Taylor tipped his head towards Johnny, knocking their shoulders together. “It’s been ages,” he whispered.
Johnny took a breath, inspected his nails again and said, “Sure, but how about another drink first.”
Another drink turned into three, and before long Maman appeared from the back room and started shouting some rapid-fire French at Johnny and Papa. Although Taylor had picked up a basic level of French since living with the pack, sometimes Maman spoke so fast he couldn’t understand at all.
Sometimes it felt like she was doing it on purpose, but he didn’t like to think about that.
Johnny ushered everyone out like the place was on fire, which made Maman even more furious.
Taylor tried to grab his arm, but before he knew it they were stumbling into another bar a bit further up the road.
High Enfield was pretty great for cheap watering holes, and it was—as far as Taylor could tell—one of the only benefits of being a university town.
“Umm, the pink one,” Taylor said, cheeks warm as he pointed at a bottle of something that looked more like a potion than a drink. He’d decided to make it his mission to have drunk sex that night, and it seemed as though Emily was on board with the idea.
“Me too,” she giggled, pressing her body against Taylor’s side. She’d loosened up a bit now the lights were lower and the drinks were flowing, and pretty soon her jacket came off and she had Taylor’s arm between her boobs.
She was warm and smelled really, really good, and honestly, what more could Taylor ask for?
Someone other than Emily, apparently, because despite his best efforts he wasn’t even half-hard.
Scratch that, he should have been stiffer than the fake marble statues they’d passed on the way in, but for some reason his dick was taking its sweet time to warm up.
Theo had dragged Johnny into a VIP booth a few minutes before, so all that was left was for Taylor to turn up the charm and keep Emily on board.
“You know, you’re really nice,” she shouted over the music, just as it was just starting to reach club-level volumes.
Nice. Nice? He’d never been called nice by a potential date before. Hot, yes. Sexy, definitely. Whyaren’tyouansweringmymessagesbastard, more than once. He’d been called Oh God, and Oh Jesus, quite a few times too, but never just nice.
“Er, thanks,” he said, giving her a thumbs up. “You too.”
She smiled and pushed a hand through her hair, revealing a smooth neck and cute little ears. She had a fine-line tattoo snaking along the underside of her arm, ending next to her armpit. Some kind of writing.
Emily let out a nervous chuckle when she saw him looking. “Oh no, you’re about to find out I’m a massive nerd.”
Taylor cocked his head. “Is that Elvish?”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” she said, bouncing on the spot. “Ancient Elvish! You like Tolkien’s work?”
Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. He’d never read the books, he just liked that scene where the blond elf fired three arrows into the troll’s skull at point-blank range. Now there was an omega he’d throw over his shoulder and take to bed, no problem.
Instead of admitting that, he pulled out his phone and showed her a photograph of his orc army on the kitchen table.
Emily’s lower jaw practically detached itself. “That is so fucking cool,” she said, nodding enthusiastically.
Taylor grinned. “Right? Thank you. Nice to meet someone that appreciates it.”
“That’s gotta be… what? Two hundred? Two fifty pieces?”
“Two hundred and sixty-eight.”
“Woah. That must have taken you ages.”