“Well, that’s not fair, she’s also the least drunk of us all,” Ethan added.
“Okay, honey, spellwhiskey. You shouldn’t have a problem with this, knowing how much you love that stuff,” Summer said. Ethan froze but ultimately gave up.
Ava grinned. “Let’s get her drunk and test her skills.”
“Now we’re talking,” Alex agreed.
“Okay,” Hazel said to my surprise. “But I’m drunk after three cocktails, so no more than that.”
Half an hour later, she had flawlessly spelledSchizophrenia, algorithm, incarceration, acquiescence, inconsequential, Pythagorean theorem. We all took turns trying to make her fail, but no luck so far. Admittedly, some of us requested words likenoble,ideal,andHazel.
Her own name!Apparently, now we all know which words Ethan thought were hard to spell. Seeing no way to beat her, I decided to mess with her, so I threw at her words like—
“A.m.b.r.o.s.i.a.l.” she answered, holding my gaze. “Exceptionally pleasing to taste or smell.” I let my eyes linger on her lips, then drop to her neck.
Damn, the things I could do with them. She drew in a shallow breath, almost imperceptible, before reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I hated how much I enjoyed seeing her body react to my words.
She finished her drink and raised a hand for a refill.
“What can I get you, guys?” A tall, clearly sunburned waiter approached.
“A gin and tonic, please,” Hazel asked, and I immediately imagined howambrosialthe gin would taste on her tongue.
“Sure. Can I see some ID?”
We all turned to him in surprise.
“We’ve been here for the last three hours,” Summer said.
“Sorry, new shift, I have to ask everyone,” the waiter shrugged.
“We’re all very much over 18, man,” I said, annoyed.
“It’s okay,” Hazel interjected. “I don’t mind.”
I grunted. She pulled out her wallet and handed him the ID.
“Thank you, Miss Ridley,” he winked at her slightly, and she averted her eyes, blushing.Asshole. Those blushes were mine. He just wanted to see her name.
“Hey, show me your ID photo,” Norah said, reaching for it. “Is it as bad as mine?”
“I don’t think everyone gets their ID photo while they have the flu, honey,” Logan teased.
Norah stuck out her tongue and looked at the little plastic card. “Oh my God,” she suddenly yelled out.
I leaned over, curious. “What, did they catch you mid-sneeze or something?”
“Hazel Ridley. Date of Birth: April 14, 1999,” she declared and looked at Hazel with piercing eyes.
“April 14?” I said, taking the ID.
“What’s today?” Ethan asked.
“The 12th,” someone answered, and I turned to Hazel.
“Why didn’t you tell us you have a birthday in two days?”
She glanced away, feeling a bit guilty. “It’s not like I was hiding it on purpose. If I said anything, Ava would’ve gone full wedding-caterer mode, and Alex would’ve planned some over-the-top party. I just didn’t want it to turn into a big deal.”
