“Hi.”
I want to lean my head back until it rests against his hip. I want to tell him I’ve been thinking about him all day.
He looks tired, a little frustrated. But a small smile quirks his lips when he glances down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Hey. My sisters getting you drunk?”
“Not yet,” his mom smiles softly and accepts the kiss he leans over to press to her cheek. “But we’ve got time. Now sit down and put your flower crown on. Trivia starts in three minutes.”
Beckett drops into the seat next to me and dutifully puts on his flower crown without complaint. It dips over one eye and I push it back on his head until the blooms are resting in his hair. He looks like something out of Greek mythology, unfairly beautiful.
“Damn,” Harper pouts. “I was hoping you’d look ridiculous.”
Beckett’s eyes slant towards her, sitting cross legged at the end of the table with a piña colada in front of her. “Glad to see you could make it.”
She shrugs. “Can’t participate,” she gestures towards her fair blonde hair, twisted back in a braid, unadorned with a flower crown. “Didn’t dress up.”
Beckett reaches for the leaves on his head. “You can have—“
“Oh, hey Jenny! Hold on a sec, I’ll be right—”
She stands up without finishing her sentence, disappearing into the crowd that surrounds the bar. Beckett releases a defeated sigh and finishes the rest of my beer.
“You okay?” I ask.
“It’s loud,” he says with a wince. He reaches for the pitcher in the center of the table and almost topples it when Gus climbs up on the bar top with a megaphone, announcing the start of the games. He shakes his head slightly, a short, reactionary movement like he’s flicking off a fly or shaking water out of his ear. He secures the pitcher and pours himself another glass. “It’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EVELYN
It is not fine.
He barely finishes his beer before a dramatic rise of music begins to pump through the bar. It sounds like something from Harry Potter or maybe … Battlestar Galactica? I have no idea. Whatever it is, Gus slowly rises to the beat from his crouched position on top of the bar, megaphone in hand.
“LET’S GET READY TO TRIVIA,” he shouts into his speaker, dragging out the last word until he can’t breathe. The crowd erupts into raucous cheers.
“Jesus Christ,” Beckett sighs next to me.
“Alright, everyone. You know the rules. Each team has one runner. You’ll write down your answers and at the end of each round, your runner will bring your submissions to Monty.” He points down at the bar where Monty sits with an official looking hat and a wide grin. “The sheriff would also like me to remind everyone that the term runner does not mean you have to run, and if anyone starts tackling again, that’s an immediate end to the night.” Gus narrows his eyes and searches the crowd. “You hear that Mabel, baby? No violence tonight.”
“I’ve never seen trivia like this before,” I say in the general direction of the table.
Nova slaps down a sheet of paper that looks like it’s embossed at the bottom, a sharpie between her teeth. “And you never will again. Let’s kill these motherfuckers.”
Beckett drags his entire hand down his face.
“The first category—” Gus pauses dramatically. The entire bar waits with bated breath. “—is botany.”
“Not fair!” Someone shouts from the back. “The Porter family has generations of agricultural knowledge on their team!”
Nessa shoots up from her seat next to Nova. “No one questioned you last month about how you know so much about the Spice Girls, Sam. Sit down.”
There’s a grumble from the opposite end of the room. No one else says a word.
“First question. What type of vascular plant possesses neither seeds nor flowers?”
“Fern,” Beckett, his dad and I all answer the question at exactly the same moment. Beckett looks at me, bewildered.
“How do you know that?”
I shrug and sip at my beer. “I know things.”
He opens his mouth to say something else but Gus cuts in with that damned megaphone. “Second question! Which part of the rhubarb plant is edible?”
“Stalks.” Again, Beckett and I answer the question at the same time. He narrows his eyes at me as Nova furiously writes down the answers.
“How did you know that?”
“I told you, I know things.” I trace my pointer finger around the rim of my glass. Beckett’s gaze flicks to it and his eyes sharpen, his jaw flexing.
“It doesn’t matter how she knows it because she’s not registered and she can’t participate with answers,” Nessa supplies from the other end of the table. She gives me a shrug and a regretful grin. “Sorry. You can give moral support though.”
“We should have registered her on the team,” Nova says.
“Next time,” Nessa agrees.
A warm glow settles in my chest. I didn’t realize how much I was hoping they’d like me until just now. Nessa snaps her fingers in front of Beckett’s face. He hasn’t looked away from me. “Head in the game.”
My designation as team moral support is needed because two rounds later, Beckett is miserable, so tense next to me that I’m pretty sure I could break a bottle over his head and he wouldn’t notice. He participates only when he’s asked, offering one word answers and clenching his hands into fists during the breaks. He guzzles down his beer like it’ll disappear if he doesn’t down each glass in three gulps. At one point, Nova leans forward with a concerned look and quietly asks him if he needs his earmuffs.
“No,” he says, barely audible over the sounds of the bar. His cheeks pink as he glances at me quickly before blinking away. “M’fine.”
I try to engage him when I can, but he’s stiff and unyielding next to me, retreating further and further into himself. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to and flat out ignores me more than once. I sigh and glance over my shoulder to the far end of the room where the bathrooms are. I cuff Beckett’s wrist loosely with my hand and attempt to get his attention from where he’s staring blankly at the tabletop. He tilts his head slightly, flower crown tipping to the side. A white daisy brushes against his forehead.
“I’ll be right back.”
For a second it looks like he might try to stop me. He opens his mouth and his eyes trip over the planes of my face, considering. But whatever it is, he bottles it right back up. His jaw snaps shut. A quick, sharp nod.
I squeeze his wrist again.