She jumped up and linked arms with Remi, pulling her toward the dance floor while she left Keiran sulking.

#

KEIRAN

The separate crews’ night had turned into one giant co-thing. Cherisse’s protests from earlier had died away, possibly swallowed up by the drinks Keiran still supplied. They’d all jumped on the “make his sorry ass pay” wagon, milking it until the end, maybe even until the bar was ready to close and toss them out. Even Maxine. Traitor. Somewhat luckily for him, there was now a two-for-one special going on in honor of whatever rugby team was winning.

Some hot wings joined the myriad of glasses that littered their table, and the women descended on them.

“Oh my God, these are so good,” Cherisse crooned. Eyes growing increasingly brighter as the night went on, she’d gotten more cheerful, at his expense. The shots flowed liberally.

This exuberant Cherisse was deadly, carefree, swaying from side to side, mouthing along with the hip-hop song currently blasting through the bar. Long hair swished around her shoulders, cheeks flushed from the dancing and the drinks, as she chowed down on her chicken right there on the dance floor, not caring one bit. The rugby game had finally ended, transforming the bar into full-on dance session mode.

“Best. Wings. Ever.” Maxine bumped his shoulder as he reached for a wing in the quickly depleting pile. She was having fun too. He was glad for that. His sister deserved a good time.

She swatted his hand. “Nope. I’ve been charged with making sure you get none of these. Cherisse’s rules.”

“Since when do you do anything she says?” They weren’t downright hostile to each other anymore, but they weren’t friends either.

Maxine pointed a half-eaten wing his way. “Since you were an ass and deserve to be punished and wingless.”

“Et tu, Maxi?” Standing guard over the wings seemed a bit excessive. Maxi swiped up the basket, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she left him.

Keiran was pondering how desperate he was to get his own damn wings and hide in a corner to eat them without being judged when Eric rolled up. “Dude!” Eric shouted in his ear as he draped his arm over Keiran’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky. So damn lucky she said yes!”

Happiness dripped off his friend. A tiny twinge of jealousy beat against his wingless stomach. He needed to rectify at least one of those feelings. The chicken was the easiest to remedy. The happiness Eric so obviously felt was something Keiran realized he’d lacked in relationships. Had he ever truly had that? With his music, sure. He could say without a doubt that made him happy. His past relationships had mostly been great, except his last one that had been damaged beyond repair. Thinking on it now, he could say he’d cared for his exes while he’d been with them, but this level of joy? He didn’t know.