“A full-contact sport played on flying broomsticks,” I clarify.
“I don’t mind the sound of that,” Sean says, earning a raised brow from Brandon.
Ellenor waves a hand around the pub. “Swap the rugby shit for Quidditch banners and you could host the Cup.”
“Good to know,” he says, amused rather than offended. “Drink?”
“A crisp white, thank you,” she says, seating herself like a queen. “And whatever cheese toastie people rave about here.”
“Lamb and onion.”
“Great. I’ll have that—minus the lamb and onion.”
“So…just cheese?”
“If that’s what it’s called,” she replies dismissively.
“Ellenor, it’s dinnertime here,” I remind her.
She slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and gives the pub owner a long, appraising look. “I’m sure that Sean’s capable of whipping up a few toasties regardless of the time of day, aren’t you, Sean?”
He barks a laugh. “Aye. Coming up.”
He leaves, throwing a backwards glance at her over his shoulder—perplexed, and a little impressed.
Ellenor drapes an arm over the booth seat and surveys us. “So, how are we?”
Brandon and I exchange a glance.
“Good,” we answer together.
“How was your flight?” I ask.
We order food, and dinner passes easily, Ellenor’s recounting of her trip so entertaining that I almost forget my nerves about the gig tonight.
Sean joins our table, and Brandon and I are soon listening to him arguing with Ellenor about Quidditch.
“The Seeker is a stupid position,” Sean says, arms crossed. “One person grabs a shiny ball and wins the whole thing while the rest of the team bust their arses?”
Ellenor half-rises in her seat. “The Seeker isnotstupid. And it’s far more nuanced than that. The Golden Snitch is hard tofind—”
“I’d find it,” Sean smirks.
She exhales, laughing despite herself. “You’re so full of shit!”
“And insufferable,” Sean says, tipping his glass towards her.
“Exactly,” she fires back, unexpectedly pleased to be understood.
Brandon leans close to me and mutters, “Seems they’ve met their match.”
“It seems so,” I whisper back, not minding his closeness, though I wish it didn’t affect me like this. The thrill coursing through me isn’t from anticipation for the gig—it’s from him. I’m aware of his presence—every word, every look. And I hate that I can’t seem to stop feeling it.
“So, why’d you quit law?” Sean asks Ellenor.
“I just wanted to travel.” She shrugs.
“Nothing wrong with that,” he replies with a grin. “Dodgy knee ended my travel plans—and my cabinet-making days. If I’d known how much running around I’d do owning a pub, I’d have thought twice.”
