I glance over and—
Oh, hello there.
This one isstupidlyhot. Dark hair that's slightly messed up in a way that probably cost effort to achieve. Blue eyes that I can see from here, which should be impossible but apparently isn't. A geometric jaw. Shoulders that make his suit jacket look like it's fighting for its life and losing. Thick eyebrows. Light stubble. The kind of face that makes you believe in intelligent design because clearly someone put thought into this.
He's not just hot. He's offensively hot. Should-come-with-a-warning-label hot.
The Handsome catches me staring.
Fuck. Abort. Abort mission.
I immediately look away, face burning like I've been caught doing something way more inappropriate than just looking.
Kayla nudges me. "You good?"
"Yep. Fine. Great. Living the dream of making drinks for penguins."
I focus aggressively on pouring a beer. I will not look at The Handsome again. Absolutely not. I have dignity. I have self-control.
I look anyway.
The Handsome is talking to The Adult now, laughing at something. His whole face changes when he laughs. It's disgusting. I hate it. I want to study it like a science project.
Get it together, Devon. First day. Don't be a creep.
By 8 PM, the team is several drinks in and the energy has reached critical mass.
The Comedian and The Redhead start arm-wrestling. On the bar top.
Kayla moves fast. "Guys, not on the—"
Too late.
Everyone's gathering. Cheering. Someone's taking bets.
The Comedian's winning, muscles straining, cocky grin plastered on his face.
The Redhead is visibly pissed, face going as red as his hair.
He makes a desperate move, trying to reverse the momentum.
His elbow smashes into a full pint glass.
The glass doesn't just tip. It fucking launches like it's been shot from a catapult, sailing through the air in what feels like slow motion.
My brain has time to think a single thought:Huh. That's going to be bad.
The glass crashes into some random patron's shoulder before it shatters on the floor.
The patron staggers backward, arms windmilling like he's trying to achieve flight, and crashes directly into The Russian.
The Russian, apparently graceful on ice but not in bars, tries to catch the falling guy, but trips over his own massive feet and careens sideways into The Adult.
The Adult gets knocked into a table.
The table tips. Drinks go everywhere—a cascade of beer and cocktails.
One of those drinks splashes directly into The Giant's face.
