"I do not talk about him that much," Jude says.
"You literally made a playlist called 'Rhys But Make It Filthy,'" says the quiet one at the end of the booth. Soren. He says it gently, like he's offering a fun fact, and Jude turns red in a way I've never seen before.
"That was private, Soren."
"You shared it to the group chat."
"Byaccident."
I'm trying very hard not to smile. "I'd like to hear this playlist."
"You will never hear this playlist."
"I'll send it to you," Benji says.
The bartender appears with a round. She sets a beer in front of me and gives me a look that's half-amused, half-appraising. "You're the alpha."
"I'm the alpha."
"Tessa," she says. "I've heard a lot about you. None of it was subtle." She glances at Jude. "Your usual booth, your usual order, and your usual volume. Try to keep it under a dull roar tonight, yeah?"
She leaves. I take a sip of beer and Jude's hand finds my thigh under the table and squeezes, just once, like he's checking I'm still here. I put my hand over his and leave it there.
Benji goes first. "So. The TA who knotted our best friend in a hotel room before he knew his name. Walk us through your decision-making process there."
"Benji," Milo says.
"It's a fair question."
"There wasn't much decision-making involved," I say. "Biology doesn't really consult you first."
Benji considers this. "Acceptable answer. Follow-up: are you aware that if you hurt him again, I will make your life creatively unpleasant?"
"I'm aware."
"Good. Shay, your witness."
Shay doesn't ask anything. He just watches me over the rim of his drink for a while, which is somehow worse than Benji's questions. Milo asks if I cook, which feels like a test I need to pass, and when I tell him about the green curry Jude and I have been ordering every week, he nods like I've submitted acceptable evidence. Soren shows me a photo of a carved bird he found in his library carrel and asks if I know anything about woodworking, which I don't, but I promise to ask around.
Somewhere around the second round, the energy shifts. Not a dramatic moment. Just Benji making a joke at my expensethat isn't mean, and me laughing, and Shay's mouth twitching in a way that might be approval. Milo starts asking about my apartment, whether I have a spare room for when Jude inevitably pisses him off and he needs somewhere to crash. Jude pretends to be offended. Nobody believes him.
They're letting me in. Not all the way, not yet. But the door is open.
The owner comes by the booth at one point to collect empties. He's tall, broad, dark hair going slightly silver at the temples. He looks like the kind of guy who's carried enough kegs to not need a gym membership. He nods at the group with easy familiarity, his gaze lingering on Shay for half a second longer than anyone else before he moves on. Shay doesn't notice. Or pretends not to.
"That's Declan," Jude murmurs in my ear. "He owns the place. He's been our unofficial bar uncle since freshman year."
I watch Declan move back behind the bar, quiet and steady, and file that away.
Three rounds in. Jude is warm against my side, his hand still on my thigh, his cheeks flushed from the beer. He's been leaning into me more with each drink, his mouth getting closer to my ear, his voice getting lower.
"You know what I keep thinking about?" he says, just for me.
"Your playlist?"
"I keep thinking about the fact that there's a bathroom in the back of this bar and it has a lock on the door."
My hand tightens on his thigh. "We are not having sex in a bar bathroom."
