He holds up a finger. “I just want to say… this guy?” He gestures at me like he’s presenting an award. “He’s one of thebest people I’ve ever met,” Eli says, unexpectedly sincere for half a second. “And he deserves everything he’s getting.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. I glance at Rafe, who looks equally startled.
Eli’s sincerity lasts exactly one more second before he points at me again. “And because it’s his birthday, he has to do a shot.”
The crowd erupts.
I jerk back. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes!” Eli shouts.
Rafe’s hand presses gently at my lower back, as if he’s bracing me. “It’s tradition,” he murmurs.
“There is no tradition,” I hiss.
“It will be if you cooperate.”
Marco laughs. “Do it.”
Carol nods seriously. “It’s your birthday. You’ll regret not doing it.”
“This is betrayal,” I mutter.
Rafe’s gaze meets mine—fond, wicked, knowing. “One shot,” he says softly. “For me.”
“For you?” I repeat.
He leans closer, lips near my ear. “And I’ll make it up to you later.”
That does it. I swallow hard, heat curling low in my belly, and roll my eyes like I’m doing it under protest. “Fine,” I grumble. “One.”
Eli cheers like he’s won a war. Someone appears with shot glasses. I don’t even know where they came from. The DJ lowers the music slightly, sensing a spectacle.
Rafe stands beside me, pouring the shot with unnerving confidence. He hands it to me first, and his fingers brush mine, brief and hidden, but it sparks.
I lift the glass, meeting Eli’s triumphant gaze.
“To Ollie!” he yells.
“To Ollie!” the room echoes.
I throw it back. It burns going down, and I cough immediately, eyes watering.
The crowd cheers louder. Rafe laughs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders casually—publicly acceptable—and presses a kiss to the side of my head like it’s instinct.
No one thinks twice. My heart thunders anyway.
Eli claps his hands together. “Cake!”
The chant starts. “Cake! Cake! Cake!”
I groan. “No.”
Rafe’s eyes gleam. “Yes.”
I’m dragged toward the kitchen—physically, by Marco and Drew—while Rafe follows, laughing like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
The cake is massive, because of course it is. It’s decorated with a basketball on top and a guitar crossed over it like a crest. My name is scrawled in icing.
