“We need to get you laid. You need to fuck The Matt and MotherFucking Cole misery away.”
I’d called Zoe as soon as I’d got up to my apartment after the Matt drama last night, so she knew all about that, but she hadn’t asked too many questions when she’d arrived there earlier. She knows me well enough to know it’s Jack related and that I’ll tell her all the details when I’m ready.
“You wanna go to Spangles for a LIIT?” Zoe shouts into my ear. “We’ll have a couple in there and then go find somewhere we can dance and maybe hook you up with a well-groomed but reasonably hairy random alpha.”
I nod. “Let’s do it.”
Spangles serve their Long Island Iced Teas in antique silver teapots. They cost as much as a decent bottle of wine, but your legs tend to stop working by the time you finish drinking. Because Zoe and I are regulars, we’ve become a little hardened to the alcohol and can usually still manage to stagger from the bar if we share no more than two teapots between us. The clientele is also older by about three decades than this place, although, hopefully, tonight, not as old as the teapots.
We scull our cocktails like a couple of ferals before Zoe grabs my hand. We make our way down the stairs, through the restaurant, and straight into Jack and Jules, standing at the hostess podium waiting to be seated.
“Great,” I mumble as the alcohol from the Cosmos hits and my head spins. My heart gives its usual kick against my sternum at the sight of him. This time it’s accompanied by a stabbing sensation.
He’s staring straight ahead and doesn’t notice our approach, giving me time to take him in. His hair is pushed back off his face. The stubble I admired this afternoon is still covering his jaw. He looks all kinds of delicious standing there in a loose, light blue linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.
Jack Cole doesn’t wax his brows or shave his legs. At least, he didn’t use to. I shudder at the memory just as he turns his head; those green eyes of his hit mine, and I stop walking.
The two ‘happy hour’ Cosmos I’ve chugged churn in my stomach with the Prosecco we drank earlier, and I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. I’m not sure if I need more alcohol or to throw up.
Zoe turns back to look at me. I don’t move my eyes from Jack’s, but in my peripheral, I see her lean her head to the side and look at me, brows pulled down in confusion. I dart my gaze to hers and catch her now following the direction I’d been staring.
“Hoooooleeeeey fuck,” I hear her whisper shout.
I look at Jack, who’s staring at Zoe. Jules’s eyes dart between all of us before she steps towards Jack and hooks her arm through his.
Jack and Jules.
Thinking about their names together causes me to giggle internally.
“Scarlett,” Jack says my name before licking his lips and giving me a small smile. “Something funny?” he asks.
Okay, so maybe my giggle wasn’t completely internal, a little bit may have slipped out and become external.
Zoe tugs on my hand that’s still being gripped by hers, and I stumble into her back.
“Your names,” is what I blurt out.
I stop walking again. Zoe again turns to look between me and Jack, who’s stepped away from the podium and closer to me.
“Our names?” he questions.
“Jack and Jules,” I explain. “Jack and Jules sitting in the tree, K-I-S-S something something Jack falls down, and Jules comes tumbling after,” I sing.
I fucking sing.
Jules looks horrified.
Jack grins.
Zoe stares.
I feel sick.
I sang. What the fuck is wrong with me?
We’re standing in a packed restaurant, and I just sang a nursery rhyme. Badly.
“I think they’re two different rhymes you’re mixing up there, Blue,” Jack eventually says, still grinning.
