"KISS KISS!" Hendrix is screaming now, wings spread, full demon mode activated.
The entire bar is watching.
"Just do it," Wall yells from across the room. "Save yourselves!"
"Never!" Becker yells back.
Hendrix screeches directly into Becker's ear.
"Fine! Jesus Christ, fine!" Becker looks at Groover with pure panic in his eyes, then shrugs. "For the bird."
"This is the worst day of my life," Groover mutters.
They lean in with all the enthusiasm of two guys about to receive root canals. Their lips meet for a fraction of a second—barely even counts as contact—before they spring apart like they've been electrocuted.
Becker immediately makes a gagging sound. "Oh, god. Oh, fuck. That was—"
"Yep. Gonna puke." Groover's got his hand over his mouth, face twisted in horror.
"That was like kissing my brother."
"I don't even have a brother and I know that's what it would feel like."
They're both physically recoiling from each other, making exaggerated disgusted faces, and everyone's losing it. Jinx is on the floor. Petrov's crying. Even Washington's cracking up.
Hendrix, satisfied with the chaos he's created, ruffles his feathers and struts away like a tiny feathered god. I'm laughing too, so hard my sides hurt, and this bird is officially the best thing that's ever happened to this bar.
Until.
Hendrix's eyes land on me.
And he's fucking determined.
I avert my gaze momentarily and focus on the glass I'm holding, hoping that ifIdon't look at him,hecan't see me.
My peripheral catches him waddling in my direction with that same determined march, and my stomach drops somewhere around my feet.
"Kiss kiss."
"Nope." I take a step back, holding up my hands. "On the clock. Sorry. Find someone else."
"KISS KISS." He's at the bar now, staring up at me with those soulless demon eyes.
Devon's next to me, and I see the exact moment he realizes what's about to happen. "Hendrix. My guy. No."
"KISS KISS!"
Devon sighs, perching his elbow on the bar and resting his chin on his palm. He reaches out with his other hand to give Hendrix what I'm assuming is a placating pet, but Hendrix is not having it, pecking his finger.
"Kiss kiss!"
"I wouldn't dream of it, Hendrix. He's not into that sort of thing." Devon rolls his eyes. "Tragically." And now they're gossiping. A man and a bird. "Besides, he's just not that type of person. Again, tragically. Boring and all that."
I cross my arms. "Did you just call me boring?"
"KISS KISS!"
"No. I called you tragically boring."
