Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ariana
I am overwhelmed.
It’s like I was dropped into the center of a universe I don’t belong in. It’s fine, I can adapt, but this place is dripping in ‘crew’ history and I’m just desperately trying to catch up.
Seth, Declan, EJ, and Wyatt might all be best friends, but there are best friends within those best friends, and they like to pick on each other in duos.
I think I have that part right.
Wyatt and EJ are wittier and funnier, and they bounce off each other well.
I’d hate to be up against them, but Declan and Seth are worthy competitors.
Declan’s jokes have a sting, like an electric zap, and Seth’s are so out of left field that they usually silence the table for a couple of seconds before everyone explodes into laughter.
It’s the strangest dynamic ever, but I’m remarkably jealous of them and all their strangeness.
I used to think that people belonged to certain places, to certain careers, and in certain fields, but I’m slowly starting to realize if you’re one of the lucky ones, you might belong to a group of people who also belong to you.
The girls are a foursome to be reckoned with. Penny and Avery keep the party going and Lauren and Tiffany are the mother hens, monitoring everyone’s drinks and ensuring nobody is empty-handed, ordering more food every time we get low.
We’re at some bar called The Swan Dive. It’s the kind of pub you’d see in a small-town movie, full of heart and endless stories.
I’m immediately obsessed, studying the details on the walls, the old, worn leather of the booths, and the way they’ve managed to weave a modern touch into a retro atmosphere.
I note the Lowes jersey in a frame behind the bar, a display light craned above it so that every patron realizes it’s there and it’s signed. There are mahogany pool tables, a small dance floor that’s scraped and bruised from years of abuse, and the coolest looking jukebox I've ever seen.
It’s everything I’ve never experienced and something about that is exceptionally charming. I mentally add this to my list of wishes. I want to design a place like this.
This city has heart. I like it here, despite the size and the distance away from anything and everything I’ve ever known. I don’t love it enough to ever live here. My greatest nemesis is still, and will always be, the winter season, but yeah—I’d come and visit.
I slide into my seat next to Arden with a fresh martini.
The bartender stared at me for a long second when I ordered it, and after a dramatic pause, he asked if I was sure.
That’s a telltale sign that a martini is going to suck, if you didn’t know.
I said yes anyway, so I’m just going to have to deal with it.
“How’d you guys meet, anyway? Have I ever asked that question?” Arden asks.
Declan, who is across from her, presses his lips together tightly as if he knows what’s coming. Instantly, the boys around the table are groaning and shaking their heads, begging her to take the question back.
Colour me intrigued.
I lean forward, suddenly very interested in this story.
“How did they meet, or how did they get together?” EJ asks, holding out his hands. “Because those are two very different stories.”
I sip my martini and nearly choke. Utterly horrible. Repulsive. That bartender should be arrested.
Arden opens her mouth, but quickly shuts it, sending Declan an apologetic look.
“We met in university,” he says, a slow smile pulling at his mouth.
He’s handsome, Declan Lowes. Pretty in the same manner as neoclassical architecture—stunning in that way that never quite goes out of style.
He’s built up of the best kind of sharp edges, like someone took their time designing him–a cut jaw with a good beard that frames his face well.
Accent all that with dimples as a focal piece and hazel eyes that light up his whole face—yeah, he’s what women would probably describe as the total package.
Those eyes slide to me as he shrugs. “The getting together part of the story is a bit of a nightmare.”
Wyatt snorts.
Seth shakes his head, wincing at the memory.
Tell me more. Right now. One of you, before I perish from the adrenaline that comes with craving a good story!
“It was worth it,” Penny says, finally returning from picking an hour’s worth of songs on the jukebox. She slides in behind her future husband, wrapping her arms around his collarbone. He reaches up to rest his hand on hers as if it’s muscle memory. She glances down at him. “Right?”
“Every second of it,” he confirms.
Her smile softens, and a part of my heart gives a violent tug to remind me that it’s still there. I ignore it, drowning it in with a large gulp of a disgustingly strong, pathetic excuse for a martini. Go back to the morgue, you stupid heartstring.
“And the rest of you?”
We listen to their stories, laugh at their memories, and I find myself liking each of them more than I did an hour ago.
Avery and Penny’s friendship is special, that much is clear, but they all have their ‘something special’ with one another.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that each one of them would burn the world down for the others.
This is more than friendship. This is a family.
“Special delivery!”
Lauren slides two full trays stacked with tequila shots onto the table.
Arden visibly cringes, shaking her head. But before she can argue, they’re being passed around and she’s politely sliding hers toward Carter with a subtle hand.
He smirks, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and quietly promises that he’ll drink hers for her.
When he leans forward to talk to Seth, Boston—who is on his other side—glances in my direction.
A shot has yet to make it all the way to me, and he seems to be the only one who noticed.
He pulls one from the tray and hands it to me over Carter and Arden’s backs, but he doesn’t say a word.
I would expect nothing less from Boston Black.
I smile sweetly. “Thank you, Wedding Date.”
He lets out a long, tired sigh. “The name’s Boston. Just in case you forgot.”
I shoot him a look. “Like I could ever forget the name of the most handsome man in this bar.”
He smiles, despite himself, and shakes his head.
Carter leans back in his seat again, cutting off our conversation. I doubt Boston had much more to say, anyway. He’s a man of little words and I’m a woman desperate to pry them out of him.
The sound of a knife clinking against a glass grabs both of our attention.
“To Declan and Penny!” Avery says, standing at the head of the table.
She raises her glass, and we all follow suit.
“Two of the best people in the world. We are so excited to be celebrating with you this week, and can’t wait to watch you become husband and wife.
For every fight and every obstacle, you both ended up right where you were supposed to be. ”
She takes in a breath and rips her eyes from Penny, coughing out a laugh as she fans her face to prevent the tears from falling.
“I have never been happier about a happy ending,” she says, forcing a teary smile. She lifts her shot glass, meeting Penny’s eyes again. They share a lingering, understanding look. Like they know the hell it took to get here and the reward was worth it. “I love you, Twin.”
Penny’s too choked up to talk, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Stop crying, you baby,” Avery barks, wiping her own face. “To Penny and Declan!”
“To Penny and Declan!” everyone chants, laughter fluttering over the table like an old, familiar song. Glasses clink together to make the melody and I nearly shut my eyes to enjoy the peace of it all.
Wyatt leans backward in his seat and looks up at Penny, still wrapped completely around her soon-to-be husband, holding her tequila shot in front of her. He extends his shot to hers.
“No parole,” Wyatt says, flashing her a crooked smile.
She clinks her glass against his. “No parole.”
Down the hatch goes the tequila.
Penelope Sweeten is the only human at this table who chugs tequila shots like water, without needing a lemon or salt.
I bite into my own lemon and then steal Carter’s from his hand as he speaks, wincing when the tequila slides down my throat.
I offer him his half-eaten lemon back and am rewarded with a glare.
“How generous,” he bites out.
“Love you,” is all I say, choking on the burn.
Boston hands him another lemon from the tray. Carter bites into it instantly, flipping me off without glancing back in my direction.
“These people can drink,” Arden mutters, shooting me a look full of fear.
“I think it’s a Canadian thing,” I whisper. “I don’t think they had anything else to do.”
She grins, but Boston shoots me a look that makes me want to keep pushing it.
Making fun of Canadians gets him riled up.
Noted. Whatever gets him glaring at me like that again is something I’m absolutely going to continue to do.
If I have to pretend to think he grew up in an igloo and rode a polar bear to and from school, I’ll do it.
But then Def Leppard floods through the speakers.
The entire table goes eerily quiet.
The men go still, like the song is the damn tornado siren and a storm is rapidly approaching this very bar. Penny catapults herself away from Declan half a second after that first note, running toward Avery’s excited, open arms.
Tiffany and Lauren are already hand-in-hand, sprinting toward the beaten-up dance floor.
I glance back at the boys, a faint smile on my mouth.
Declan watches his future wife, her wild, blonde hair flying behind her.
A smile touches his mouth as he leans back, his arms across his chest, cradling his beer like he could watch this show for decades.
When Penny starts to throw her head back like she did that night at Icebox, the love shining in his eyes is unmistakable.
Seth lets out a long, tired breath and sags in his seat. He runs a hand over his face as Avery tosses her short brown hair around like a maniac, right beside her best friend.
Wyatt laughs against the rim of his beer bottle, he and EJ shaking their heads.
“Anyone bring the ice packs?” I ask casually.
Declan barks out a loud laugh. He holds out his fist in respect for the joke, and I proudly bump mine to his. I’m starting to feel less out of place in this group. I’m finally finding my footing. It never takes me long.
“Forkerro squared!” Penny hollers from across the bar. All heads at the table turn to her. She waves us over. “Get up here!”
Arden and I stand. My brother moves to do the same.
“Not you!” the girls scream in unison, making him freeze mid-movement. The table erupts with laughter at the stunned, disappointed look on Carter’s face while he hovers between a stand and a squat.
“The future Forkerro!” Penny calls, cupping her hands over her mouth. Carter shoots her a look of warning, but she only smiles innocently and offers a little shrug. “Or should be by now, anyway!”
Declan starts to laugh so hard that tears glisten in his eyes.
Carter sits back down, glaring across the table at him.
They share a look that I can’t decipher, like there is an inside joke between them that the rest of us are missing, and in response, Carter reaches for one of the remaining shots and throws it down the hatch, but instead of biting into his lemon, he chucks it at Declan’s head.
I reach for Arden’s hand, letting her guide me toward the people who welcomed me into their little party without blinking. By the end of the song, I am ninety percent certain that I’m going to need an icepack by the time we leave this bar, too.
And then a One Direction song comes on, and I’m one hundred percent certain.