12. Olivia #3
“That’s gotta be him,” my brother said, striding forward before I could confirm or deny. “Hey there, if it isn’t the lumberjack himself!”
Ah, to have the unbridled confidence of a teenager again, I mused even though I was pretty sure I’d never actually felt that myself. No, I got the anxiety gene instead.
Lucky me.
“You must be Rolando. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Only good, I’m sure.”
“Exemplary, even, I’d say.” Keith said it with a wink. Although that would make me swoony, it just made my brother laugh.
“In that case, she’s exaggerating. My sister’s a softie.”
“Perhaps when it comes to you, but that’s her job, isn’t it?
” Keith patted my brother’s arm and I watched, rather surprised, as he swung his arm around my brother’s shoulders as if they’d been pals forever.
“Want to gossip about her while we go play darts? You can tell me all the embarrassing stories from her younger years that she refuses to let slip.”
“Oh man, would I ever,” Rolando replied as the two walked off ahead of me.
I knew they were teasing. It wasn’t like my little brother would let slip about the time I’d tried to dye my hair silver (I thought it was ironic, because, ya know…
wolf stuff) only to end up crying in the tub when nothing happened since I needed to bleach my hair to near-white first, then tone it for it to work.
“Hey, what about me?” I called after them, but they were already inside of the doors.
Had I been third-wheeled?
I hurried after them to the dartboard in the corner. Well, I supposed I could let boys be boys, so I went to the hostess and asked for one of those little sensor things for a table.
“Oh, no worries about that, ma’am. Your husband already got you a table. It’s ready and waiting for you.”
“He did?”
She nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “Follow me!”
I did, expecting to get to an empty table, pull out my phone and entertain myself. Maybe I’d order an appetizer to tide me over.
But that wasn’t necessary. There was a pitcher of water on the table, glasses full of ice, a steaming cup of tea, a basket of bread, and an appetizer of fried pickles.
I loved fried pickles.
“Now, if you wanna make yourself comfy, Julianne will be your server, and I believe she has something for you.”
“She does?”
But the hostess was already bouncing off just like her ponytail, leaving me to get settled. I’d poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher when another bubbly, pretty woman arrived at our table, holding a truly massive drink.
Wait no, not just a drink, an entire fucking fishbowl.
“What is that?” I asked breathlessly, taking in the pineapple with a fist-sized disco ball arranged artfully on a thick centerpiece sticking up out of the fishbowl.
“Exactly what it looks like, sweetheart! This is what we call our Every Night Fever! It’s a citrusy drink with mango, passionfruit, and pineapple. Your honey over there ordered it for you.”
I watched with fascination as she set it on the table. “Normally people split it or it’s for a whole table, but he said you have a high tolerance! Get it, girl!”
“Haha, I do all right by myself, I guess.” That was a humble way of not explaining that my shifter tolerance would make it impossible for any human alcohol to affect me.
“Go slow and have a blast! I’ll be back by once your fellas join you.”
“Thanks bunches.”
As she went off, I scanned the room to find the dartboard from my new position.
Keith and Rolando were still there, laughing like they were at a comedy special while occasionally pausing to throw darts.
I was worried Rolando might forget himself and use too much strength to shatter one of the things or even bury it in the dartboard, but since there were no yelps of surprise or wide-eyed looks his way, I figured he had this whole pretending-to-be-human thing in the bag.
So, instead of worrying and anticipating the worst, I sipped my drink and watched as two people who were very important to me hit it off.
Was this how Keith had felt when I’d met his mother? It was pretty nice, I wasn’t going to lie. But try as I might to focus only on the positive, some of my brother’s earlier words lingered, casting a shadow that kept trying to reassert itself into the limelight.
What was I going to do when Keith found out that not only was I a shifter, but that I had been hiding it from him?
It was easy enough to keep it a secret when I kept him separated from the rest of my pack, but how long would that last?
How many more months could I put off him meeting the people who mattered so much in my life?
I didn’t know, and even though I knew it really wasn’t the right time to think about it, I couldn’t help but feel the invisible clock over my head counting down until I either made a decision or had the decision made for me.
I drank a little faster than I should, giving myself a bit of brain freeze from all the shaved ice in it, pointedly trying to ignore the sound that was the undercurrent of all of my thoughts lately.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, ticktock ticktock ticktock tickticktickticktick…