“It's acampaignto make you try decent pub grub. I'll use all the weapons at my disposal.”
Despite his best efforts, I hold my ground and order my pie instead, but even in his defeat the smile never leaves his face. I check my phone, the habit of a doctor who can stumble upon another responsibility or desperate request every time I look at it. My nerves never fully settle, I'm always wondering if something urgent has come in that I'm ignoring, even all the way in London.
When I glance up, his eyes are already on me, dark, unguarded, a little wild. His hand slides to the back of my neck, thumb against my pulse as he pulls me in for a kiss. His lips barely brush mine, the faintest touch from him sparking an overwhelming desire inside me. It makes me wantmore. I forget where we are until the waitress sets our plates down with a pointed throat clear.
We break apart, laughing, both red-faced. He confiscates a fry across my plate, I steal a bite of his Yorkshire pudding, and every touch feels like it’s lighting a fuse. His fingers find mine under the table, tracing along my wrist until my breath catches.
“Maybe we should calm down,” I say, voice barely steady.
He leans in, still grinning. “Never.”
I laugh, shaking my head, and for a moment it feels like the city itself is holding its breath, long enough to let us justexist.
The walk to the pub is short, but the city feels different now, softer somehow, like it’s conspiring with them. The smell of wet pavement and cigarette smoke fills my lungs, the kind of night that feels haunted by leftover rain. Rafe’s arm is around my shoulders, lazy and sure, his thumb brushing absently at my collarbone as we turn the corner.
“Are you sure you're good? Meeting up with the guys?” he asks, tone casual but careful.
“Of course,” I say. “It’ll be nice to get to know Rithy without all the tension.”
He snorts. “Can’t promiseno tension. It’s still Rithy.”
I laugh. “Then I’ll bring my professional voice.”
“Let the games begin,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.
The pub’s small and lived-in, ale and old laughter seep from the walls. A buzz of chatter fills the room, and in the back booth, the rest ofThe Riven Altaris already half a pint ahead. Kiri gives a wave, Ronan raises his glass, and Rithy, of course, doesn’t look up right away, too busy flipping through something on his phone.
Rafe squeezes my hand before we approach. “Remember,” he murmurs, “they’re mostly harmless.”
“Mostly?”
He grins. “Depends how many pints in they are.”
When we reach the table, Ronan stands first, ever the gentleman. “Kasia,” he says warmly, accent rolling. “Good to see you again. Thought you turned into a myth, listening to this one.” He tilts his chin towards Rafe.
“Depends who’s telling the story,” I reply, shaking his hand.
Kiri gives a smile, sliding over to make space. “Ignore him, he’s in aneccentricphase.”
Rithy looks up then, lean, tired and undeniablybeautifulin that restless way that doesn’t ever settle.
“So the good doctor lives,” he says, a slight smirk curving his mouth.
“I do,” I say lightly. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“Excellent,” he says, taking a long drink. “At least one of us has to be civilized.”
Rafe kicks him lightly under the table. “Behave.”
“I am behaving,Rafferty” Rithy says, feigning innocence. “Just stating the obvious.”
The banter slides easily after that, music, cities, travel horror stories. Ronan’s already on his second pint, telling me about Freja who fell asleep mid-soundcheck in Madrid. Kiri corrects every detail under his breath, which only makes it funnier.
Rithy stays half-detached but attentive, occasionally flicking his gaze my way with that tentative curiosity that feels more like study than judgment. I can tell he’s trying, in his own way. When I make a joke about Rafe’s early-morning texts sounding like caffeine withdrawals disguised as coherence, Rithy actually laughs, a low, surprised sound that makes Rafe glance at him, then at me, likeSee? Progress.
After the second round, Rafe slides closer, thigh pressed against mine, arm warm at the back of my neck as he wraps it around me. The rest of the world blurs. His breath touches my ear as he leans in, “They like you.”
“I can tell,” I whisper back. “I like them too. They’re terrifyingandentertaining.”
