"Who's 'they'?" I ask, confused but bracing for the answer.
Katie's eyes practically sparkle. She leans forward again, whisper-shouting like we're part of some high-stakes secret mission. "The Warriors. The hockey team."
I freeze. My hand stalls halfway to my wine.
The hockey team? Zach's hockey team?
Ugh. Damn it!
And then—like some twisted cosmic joke—the sea of bodies between our table and theirs just... parts. No joke. One second, the crowd is thick, noisy, impossible to see through, and the next it's like Moses decided to split the Red Sea just so I could get a front-row view of my personal nightmare.
There they are. The Ridgewater Warriors. All broad shoulders, tall frames, and cocky grins. A table full of giants who know exactly how good they look.
Some are laughing, beers in hand, voices carrying over the music. A couple have girls perched on their laps, arms draped around thick necks like jewelry. One guy is telling a story, waving his hands wildly while the others roar with laughter. The whole thing looks like a testosterone-fueled frat boy ad campaign.
And then I saw him.
The guy I bumped into earlier. Mr. Ridgewater Hoodie. The one who winked and dropped that cheesy line like he had it holstered and ready.
But wait. My eyes narrow, confusion prickling. Because the girl in his lap right now? Not the sultry-voiced brunette from earlier. Nope. This one's a different flavor entirely—blonde, short skirt, laughing way too hard at something that was probably not that funny.
Seriously? My lip curls. Already swapping out lap ornaments in under an hour? What a playboy cliché.
I'm just about to look away in disgust when—hold up.
My brows knit tight.
Because sitting right next to him is... him.
No. Not him. Anotherhim?
I blink. And blink some more.
There aretwoof them.
Same sharp jawline. Same smug grin. Same everything. For a terrifying half-second, I actually think I'm seeing double.
And then it hits me.
Twins.
Holy hell.
"Those are the Archer twins," Tammy breathes like she just spotted royalty. "Luke and Liam. Ridgewater's top defensemen."
Ah. Makes sense. Big. Intimidating.
"Seriously though, I swear one of the requirements to make this hockey team is their face card," Katie sighs, sipping her mojito while her gaze shamelessly sticks to the twins.
"I bet," Tammy chimes in, all dreamy. "It's so unfair. They're all hot. Like, obnoxiously hot."
They both laugh, the kind of giggle you can't suppress when you're tipsy on hormones and mojitos.
My eyes finally peel away from the Archer double feature and land on another scene across the table. A girl perched confidently on some guy's lap, tossing her hair, laughing like she owns the entire room.
And holy. Crap.
She's gorgeous. Not justInstagram influencergorgeous—this is next-level. Porcelain skin that almost glows under the bar lights, hair falling in perfect waves, eyes that look like they could gut you and kiss you in the same breath.
