Chapter 3 A Coincidence #3
On the couch to the side, was Gregory, Magnus’s best friend, with two other men taking up the rest of the space.
Without hesitation, Harold dropped onto the same middle couch, squeezing in beside Sophia and leaving far less space than necessary. Magnus’s jaw tightened almost instantly.
Harold gestured toward the girls. “Meet the pretty girls, gentlemen,” he announced proudly. Then he pointed at Sophia, grinning. “She’s the girl I have a crush on.”
Sophia’s shocked eyes fell on Harold and she shifted slightly, suddenly self-conscious.
Harold, however, was completely oblivious. He continued boasting to his friends. “You know what? I ran into her just a few hours ago on the road! She’s a total badass. Some people were following her in a car, and she made them crash straight into a ditch. It was fucking hilarious.”
Sophia’s head snapped toward him, eyes widening. “You saw me?”
“Yes,” Harold replied, grinning at her. “I was about to come talk to you, but you drove off so fast I didn’t even get the chance to get close.”
Then Harold turned back toward the group and continued bragging, his excitement clearly uncontainable.
“She’s seriously incredible. You should’ve seen how she twisted the steering wheel and shot straight into that narrow road,” he said animatedly, using both hands to demonstrate.
“Our car almost couldn’t keep up with her.
Her car roof was open, hair flying everywhere—it was like watching a movie scene. ”
He laughed, then looked at Sophia again, clearly pleased. “I really thought I’d never see you again. And then—surprise—we run into each other here.” He paused, suddenly realizing something, then looked at her. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“I’m Sophia,” she replied with a small smile, then gestured beside her. “And this is Emma.”
“What a beautiful name,” Harold said immediately. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Sophia in my entire life. It really suits you.” His eyes shone bright as he added, “It fits you perfectly.”
Sophia’s cheeks warmed. She glanced away, slightly awkward, then murmured, “Thank you.”
“My name’s Harold,” he continued cheerfully. “I wish my parents had named me something starting with an S too. Then our names would’ve matched. But oh well—can’t have everything.”
Sophia had to stifle a laugh. She smiled at him, amused.
Magnus, on the other hand, clenched his jaw hard. “Annoying bastard,” he muttered under his breath, tension tightening his features.
Harold, completely oblivious, continued cheerfully. “These are my friends.” He gestured casually. “That’s Gregory.” The man in his thirties gave them a polite nod, stubble shadowing his jaw and lending him a mature air. “Hey.”
“And those two are Sam and Joey.” Both men lifted a hand in greeting. Sophia and Emma returned the gesture with small smiles.
Then Harold twisted around and pointed toward the single couch across the table. “And that’s Magnus. He’s my cousin.”
Sophia’s head snapped toward Harold, shock flashing across her face.
“Cousin?” she blurted out, barely managing to keep her composure.
“Yes,” Harold nodded brightly. “In fact, I was in the car with him tonight when we spotted you driving off.”
Sophia’s gaze flew from Harold to Magnus, her body stiffening. Her lips parted slightly, disbelief written all over her face.
Magnus didn’t look at her. He didn’t greet her or acknowledge her presence at all. He simply leaned back against the couch.
Harold turned back to the group, clapping his hands together. “Well? What are you all waiting for?” he said grinning. “Let’s drink. Ladies first.”
Everyone reached for their glasses. Sophia smiled politely, picked up one, and handed the other to Emma.
But Emma didn’t take it immediately.
She was staring at Harold—hard.
Sophia frowned slightly and raised an eyebrow at her. “Something wrong?” she asked quietly.
Emma shook her head quickly and took the glass, taking a long sip. Sophia turned back toward the group.
Across from them, Magnus’s eyes flickered between Harold and Sophia intensely. He hadn’t smiled once—not even for a second.
Harold soon picked up a glass of whiskey and leaned forward, offering it to Magnus. “Here.”
Magnus reclined lazily, one arm draped over the back of the couch, one leg crossed over the other. His posture was relaxed, arrogant. His eyes dropped briefly to the glass—then lifted, flicking past it to Sophia.
“I don’t drink with random women at bars,” he said coolly.
Timothy’s eyes snapped toward him, disbelief flashing across his face.
“Random women?” he muttered under his breath, appalled. “You won’t drink with your own wife?”
Sophia, however, didn’t look offended.
In fact, she looked amused.
Already slightly drunk from earlier, the whiskey only pushed her further. She lifted her glass, drained it in one go, then set it down with a soft clink. Tilting her head, she laughed lightly.
“Mr. Graves must be a very upright, self-righteous, morally superior man,” she said loudly. “Clearly a monk among men.”
Magnus’s eyes shifted toward her. The arrogance on his face didn’t fade—if anything, it sharpened.
She continued lightly, the innocence in her voice clearly false. “Then why are you at a bar? Shouldn’t someone like you be at a monastery?”
Before anyone could respond, she let out a loud scoff, picked up another glass of whiskey, and muttered clearly enough for everyone to hear—
“Snob.”
The word rang loudly at the table.