Page 24 of The Enemy Plot
“Nonsense,” Marissa says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “We can still have a fun night. The boys are in good shape for the playoffs, and I promise you that’s the only thing they’re talking about,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Fine.” I smile. “Just one drink.”
11
A New Male Lead
Deacon
I don’t condone violence, and I rarely resort to it, but I wish I could have smashed that guy’s face on the pavement. I didn’t hear what he said about Alice, but the fact that he went on a date with her was reason enough.
The front door opens, and Hayley and Marissa file in, followed by Alice. She gives me a faint smile and steps toward me while the others go back to their seats.
“Hey,” she says, placing both hands on the counter.
My throatconstricts. “Hey.”
“Sorry about all that.” Her cheeks flush pink, and she twists her mouth. “If I knew he was a Shark, I wouldn’t have brought him here.”
“It’s fine,” I say, placing my towel on the counter. “Are you okay?”
She seems taken aback by my question. Granted, this isn’t how our usual conversations go.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She nods, letting out a sigh. “Can I get a drink?”
“Sure. Let me guess.” I arch an eyebrow. “A Margarita? Or a Cosmopolitan with a pink umbrella?”
Her lips break into a smile, and I can’t hold mine back. Seeing Alice smile is the most beautiful thing. “A beer will do.”
My eyes widen. “Full of surprises, huh?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” She winks before joining the table of hockey players.
And just like that, I am left stunned. A wounded man who just took an arrow to the heart from a spunky Frenchie. What was that all about? And why do I have this urge to do whatever it takes to see that look in her eyes again? That’s not me. I don’t catchfeelings.At least not this kind. I think Alice Beaumont might have broken me.
“Happy birthday!” I stride into the kitchen, where Lola is eating her breakfast at the table.
She glances up and offers me a rare smile. “Thanks.”
“So, what do you want to do?” I ask, grabbing the mailbox label and sitting down across from her.
She looks up from her cereal bowl with that teenage glare I know all too well. “What do you mean?”
“I thought we could do something after school?”
“Well, there’s a Jack Rose concert in Central Park tonight. It’s free, and everyone at school is going.”
I frown. “There’s a game tonight, and the bar will be packed. I can’t close.”
“I could go alone,” she mumbles, turning her spoon in her bowl.
I let out a laugh. “Absolutely not. Maybe we can go to a museum tomorrow instead.”
Definitely more my scene than a pop concert.
She scoffs, giving me a death glare. “A museum for my birthday? Seriously? How old am I, fifty?”
I return her stare. “Well, think of something else, because I can’t close the bar tonight. It’s our only source of income.”