“It’s notthatfunny, dude,” Zach says, bolting from the booth.
“Zach!” I call, but he moves so quickly, I lose sight of him in the crowd. “Shit, I didn’t think he’d get upset.”
Jennings’s laughter finally sputters to a stop. “He’s not. Briggsy doesn’t get upset.”
He does, I want to protest, but I hesitate a moment too long, and he takes our conversation in another direction. Besides, I’m not sure Zach would want me to say anything.
“Listen, Finley, about the party…”
“I’m sorry I ran off. I—”
“Have a thing for my best friend?” Jennings rubs the back of his neck. “It would’ve been nice to know before I made an ass of myself, but I understand why you didn’t tell me. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I don’t want to be the one to break the news to our captain.”
I let out a loud sigh. “I wish you would. I don’t want to do it either.”
“I think you’re good for him,” Jennings says. “I’ve never seen Briggsy like this before, and we’ve gone out a lot. I’ve seen—”
“I don’t need to know,” I cut him off, unsure exactly where he’s going, but if it puts an image of anyone else with Zach in my mind, I don’t want it. “Thank you. He’s good for me too.”
“Oh, shit, not this fucking song again,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. I follow the direction of his stare, and my gaze lands on Zach seconds before he lets out the first line of “Let's Get It Started In Here” by the Black Eyed Peas. “He plays this every damn day in the locker room.”
On stage, Zach struts back and forth, acting out the lyrics, commanding the attention of the crowd singing with him. When he gets to the chorus, he jumps up and down, drawing a few hoots from Wolves players near the bar. He’s breathing hard into the microphone when the song comes to an end. The bar descends into applause and catcalls while Zach takes a dramatic bow.
My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so hard. “He’s unreal.”
“That’s your boy,” Jennings says. “You knew what you were getting into.”
“For this next song, I’m going to call some friends to the stage,” Zach announces like this is a concert and he’s the main act. He turns toward our table. “Don’t be shy. I’ve picked a classic.”
Jennings doesn’t hesitate to slide out of the booth. Given the lack of resistance, this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. “Finley Harris.” He dramatically points to Zach and the karaoke stage. “You’ve been summoned.”
I shake my head. “No one in this bar wants to hear me sing. Trust me. I’m terrible.”
Zach motions toward the stage with the hand not holding the microphone. “Don’t make me drag you up here.”
“Your sensei is calling you to the stage, Finley. Don’t let him down.”
I blow out a breath, inching out of the booth. “I’m going to regret this.”
Jennings locks his arm with mine; he doesn’t seem to trust I won’t run back to the safety of the table. “Probably, but you’ll make a very special boy happy.”
I shove him. “You’re the worst.” When we reach the stage, I say to Zach, “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
He hands microphones to Jennings and me. “You’re the one who agreed to learn to have fun.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean you don’t offer all the girls a chance to sing with you?”
“You’re the only one.”
“You must think I’m pretty special.”
All humor falls from his features. “There’s no one like you, Finley.”
I have ten seconds to bask in Zach’s compliment before a 90s hip-hop song, “This Is How We Do It,” plays. I start slowly, butit’s not long before I’m singing my heart out along with Jennings and Zach, who don’t look at the lyrics on the screen.
They also showboat to the crowd, trying to one-up each other over who performs better. The cheers for this second song eclipse Zach’s solo effort, but I know it’s not for me. Jennings and Zach bow dramatically, then hold their hands in my direction until I do a silly curtsy.
Gemma and Kennedy continue the standing ovation as we approach.
