Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
REY: Thought it’s time we added everyone in. Trivia night at The Mossy Pint, who's in?
JASPER: Lucas, my man. We have made it. I’m in.
MARLEY: Drop It Like It’s Plot is absolutely winning this time. Manifesting full redemption-arc energy
I laugh, thumbs flying before I can second-guess the way my cheeks warm.
LILAH: I’ll be there. Lucas, you in?
LUCAS: You bet. I’ll pick you up on the way.
TESS: Okay, lovebirds, get a room.
Jasper removed Lilah Rayne and Lucas Castle from the chat.
Rey added Lilah Rayne and Lucas Castle to the chat.
JASPER: No fair, Rey!
REY: Beat it, Jasper. I’m out.
See you there, friends.
I grin down at the screen. This—these people—feels wonderfully real.
I slip my phone into my bag. The sun dips low behind the ridge, casting warm light across the cobbled main street.
The air is cool, but my chest hums with something warmer.
Not launch nerves or bookstore butterflies. Just possibility.
Lucas pulls up right on cue, his car slowing as he leans across to push the passenger door open. ‘Ready to win trivia and make Jasper cry?’ he asks, eyes dancing.
I slide in beside him, my heart answering before I can. ‘Always.’
The Mossy Pint is already buzzing when we arrive.
Fairy lights twinkle above the bar, and someone has taped a slightly crooked “Trivia Night” sign to the wall.
The place smells like citrus, pine, craft beer, and caramelised onion.
Rey has our usual booth by the big window, sipping cider like she’s been here for hours.
Marley waves, half standing, half bouncing. ‘You’re late! I already ordered cheesy fries and emotional chaos.’
‘Perfect,’ I say, sliding in beside her.
Lucas squeezes in next to Jasper, who shoots him a conspiratorial look. ‘We’re winning tonight,’ Jasper warns. ‘I’ve been prepping.’
Lucas raises an eyebrow. ‘You studied for trivia?’
‘I always study,’ Jasper says solemnly. ‘I’m not just a pretty face, Castle.’
Rey passes around pens and slips of paper, smirk already forming. ‘Team name?’
‘Drop It Like It’s Plot,’ Marley shouts immediately.
‘No objections,’ Tess starts sipping her gin and tonic. ‘Let’s make some memories.’
But Marley is already buzzing, curls bouncing as she leans in towards me. ‘Honestly, Lils, the way your story is trending, people are already connecting that you’re Lola Re—’ she stops mid-syllable. Her eyes go massive and her mouth snaps shut so fast it makes a little click.
Rey whispers, ‘Oh… no.’
Jasper blinks. Slowly. Then again. ‘Lola… what?’ he asks, like he’s solving a murder.
Marley shakes her head violently. ‘Nothing! No! I didn’t say anything! Forget I said anything—erase me—delete me—’
Tess drops her forehead into her hand. ‘Marley.’
But the damage is done. Jasper’s jaw falls open. Then—‘Oh. My. GOD.’ He stands up so fast his chair screams. ‘Lilah. Is. Lola. Reid!’
Half the pub looks over. Lucas chokes on his drink.
Marley whimpers into her hands, ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry—’
Jasper, meanwhile, is having a full spiritual awakening. ‘I knew it. I knew it!’ he shouts. He is pointing at me like I’m a first edition he just uncovered in a garage sale. ‘I’ve been selling The Year Before You like its scripture! I made a book club guide. I recruited people.’
‘Wow Jasper, how culty of you,’ Marley chuckles.
Rey deadpans, ‘He made a tri-fold brochure.’
Jasper is pacing now, feral. ‘You’ve been sitting here every Thursday, drinking cider and pretending,’ he spits out, hands on his hips, ‘like you’re not my favourite author of all time? Of all time!’ he shouts.
A few gasps come from the tables next to us, followed by whispers and not so subtle pointing. Everyone is beginning to stare.
I bury my face. ‘Jasper, I wasn’t—’
‘No. Nope.’ He wags a finger at me. ‘You do not get to Jasper me. I have an investigation board.’
‘He does, I saw it. Well done,’ I tell him, nervously looking around at all of the eyes on us. On me.
‘I knew you saw it!’ he practically yells.
He is in full meltdown mode. ‘You don’t understand.
The Year Before You wrecked me. Like sobbing-on-public-transport, can’t-make-eye-contact-with-the-driver kind of wrecked.
And all this time, you’re here—serving coffee and pretending you’re not literary royalty! ’
‘Jasper, shh. Everyone is looking.’ Tess whispers to him.
‘I really am sorry Jasper.’
Jasper exhales like he’s been resuscitated. ‘Right. I’ll just go—’ he gestures towards the bar, wobbling, ‘—hyperventilate near the coasters.’ He stumbles off, whispering “Lola Reid” like a mantra.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper to Tess and she nods in reply.
Marley peeks through her fingers. ‘I’m never talking again. Ever.’
I groan and drop my head onto the table.
Lucas nudges my knee gently. ‘You okay?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I mumble.
He smiles. ‘You will be.’
When the first round kicks off, the table hums with energy. Pens scratch across slips of paper, Marley chews the end of hers like it holds the answer to world peace, and Rey taps out a nervous rhythm on the table edge.
Lucas’s knee bumps mine under the table like it’s habit, a quiet tether. I lean close, whispering, ‘Definitely Celine Dion.’
He tilts his head, lips tugging at the corner. ‘It’s Mariah,’ he murmurs back, voice so low only I can hear. The grin that follows makes heat rise across my cheeks, even as I scrawl down the wrong answer out of stubbornness.
Jasper, meanwhile, is back to his old self and entirely unbothered by subtlety. During the music round, he springs up onto the bench and belts the wrong lyrics to a ‘90s pop anthem with the full chest of a karaoke king. The entire pub groans in unison.
Marley doesn’t miss a beat, flipping her camera towards him. ‘For posterity,’ she declares, narrating like a wildlife documentarian, ‘observe the rare Trivia Bro in his natural habitat.’
By the end of the first round, we’re at the very bottom of the scoreboard. Marley is adamant that Moby Dick is a murder mystery.
‘Well, there’s death and a mystery, isn’t there?’
‘Then I guess Finding Nemo is a hostage drama?’ Tess volleys back without missing a beat.
Marley gasps, clutching her pen like a dagger, ‘That clownfish was kidnapped, Tess. That’s textbook hostage.’
Rey shoots her hand up before the quizmaster can move on. ‘Excuse me, are we really just going to accept that Pluto doesn’t count anymore?’
The poor guy blinks. ‘Uh… the official answer is eight planets.’
Rey crosses her arms. ‘That’s political. Pluto didn’t ask to be demoted.’
Jasper leans across the table, grinning. ‘Are you about to unionise the planets?’
‘Maybe I should,’ Rey fires back. ‘Justice for Pluto.’
Marley is already filming. ‘This is going viral, “girl defends ex-planet at trivia night.”’
Tess groans into her gin and tonic. ‘If we lose because Rey stages a coup over Pluto, I’m disowning all of you.’
Rey, dead serious, shrugs. ‘At least you’ll know which celestial body to blame.’
Lucas hides a smile behind his glass. ‘Pretty sure that’s the most passion I’ve ever seen about astronomy.’
‘Passion wins points,’ Rey insists.
‘Not in trivia it doesn’t,’ I mutter, scribbling down the “wrong” answer anyway.
But somehow, through a miracle or sheer collective stubbornness, we claw our way back.
Marley nails the pop culture lightning round with a victorious fist pump.
Tess redeems herself with obscure poetry knowledge no one else at the table even understands.
Rey sketches diagrams of constellations in the margins of our answer sheet to prove a point.
And Lucas pulls an answer about cricket stats out of nowhere that has Jasper declaring him “captain, henceforth and forever.”
Marley throws her hands up. ‘Who even remembers batting averages from 1999?’
Lucas just shrugs. ‘Some of us actually read the sports section.’
‘Fine,’ Tess sighs, rolling her eyes but fighting a smile. ‘You can stay.’
By the last round, we’re improbably ahead. The air is thick with fryer grease and the sharp bite of cider, glasses sweating rings onto the table. Pens are scattered, napkins scribbled with crossed-out guesses. My friends lean in closer until it feels like we’re a single orbit around the quiz sheet.
I glance around the booth and the thought lands heavy and warm all at once: this is my life.
These are my people. Laughter that doesn’t feel like armour, voices overlapping in a chaotic way I used to only write about.
And Lucas beside me, knee pressed against mine, looking at me like I’m luminous, like the answer was always me.
This is what it feels like to belong.
Oscar taps the mic, the feedback squeal making half the pub wince.
He doesn’t flinch. He clears his throat like he’s done this a hundred times.
‘All right, teams. It’s been a night of, uh, spirited debate,’ his eyes flick briefly to Rey, who lifts her chin proudly, ‘and creative interpretations of Moby Dick.’
A ripple of laughter moves through the tables. Oscar deadpans, ‘For the record, it is not a murder mystery.’
‘Debatable,’ Marley mutters, earning a nudge from Tess.
Oscar shuffles his cue cards. ‘In second place, with seventy-six points… Les Quizérables.’ He lets the pause hang, then leans towards the mic. ‘Which means first place, with seventy-eight points, is Drop It Like It’s Plot!’
The booth explodes. Rey fist-pumps, nearly knocking her cider over. Tess hides her grin behind her gin glass, though the sparkle in her eyes gives her away. Marley shrieks and throws her arms around Jasper, who blinks rapidly like he’ll blame the onion rings later.
I laugh as Lucas pulls me into his side, warm lips brushing my temple in the middle of the noise.
Oscar adjusts his glasses, tone as dry as the beer mats. ‘Congratulations, champions. Please try not to gloat too loudly or at least wait until you’re outside.’
Jasper climbs onto the bench anyway, arms raised like he’s at an award show. ‘Shirts will be printed! Trophies forged! We will go down in history.’
‘You’re not printing anything,’ Rey cuts in, grabbing his ankle until he wobbles. ‘You still owe me twenty bucks for snacks.’
‘Put it on my tab,’ a familiar voice cuts in.
We look up. Ezra. Rolled sleeves, dry expression, that pub-owner presence that feels like part of the walls themselves. He’s grinning, at Jasper first, then Lucas. This is his turf, and with them, there’s nothing awkward.
‘About time you lot won without cheating,’ he deadpans.
‘Bold accusation,’ Lucas says, already grinning. ‘You saw that picture round. We carried.’
‘I carried,’ Jasper insists, pointing at himself.
Ezra doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Sure. You carried the fries.’
The table laughs. All except Marley, whose mouth has fallen open. She snaps it shut, only to open it again like words are supposed to come but won’t.
Ezra notices. His gaze lands on her phone. ‘You’re the TikTok one.’
Marley blinks. ‘Me?’
‘The videos you’ve been doing for the Inkwell cheeks pink as she replays Ezra’s “job offer” for the fifth time.
By the time the crowd thins and chairs scrape back, it feels like we’ve stretched the moment as far as it can go without breaking. We spill out into the cool night, the air sharp with pine and fryer grease, laughter still echoing in the doorway. Lucas’s hand finds mine like its muscle memory.
My chest swells, full to the edges. There’s no confetti, no grand finale, just streetlamps pooling gold on cobblestones, my friends at my back, and Lucas at my side.
I am exactly where I’m meant to be.