NINE

Billie

AFTER A QUICK freshening up and change of clothes (the guys added a thermal long sleeve under their black O'Sullivan's T-shirts), we've walked to the Irish dive bar, The Den (minus Micky of course—not really AA approved) almost always starts out at.

I've got the fake ID that cost eighteen-year-old me some serious dough, but I'm hardly ever carded when with members of The Den. They didn't check Xander, Ethan, or Jaxson either. I've changed into a clean green O'Sullivan's half hoodie, skinny jeans, and my Doc Martens and am sitting by myself at The Den's unofficial corner booth, successfully evading any small talk or probing questions. Marcus and the rest of The Den (minus Brandon) are making their rounds, chatting up members of the gym and girls. Can't forget the girls, while we all wait for Jimmy to show up. Jax, Ethan, and Xander are at the bar, getting another round of beers for all of us.

Unfolding The Wildly Popular Coffee News that's placed in the center of the bigger tables with the napkins and condiments, a feeling of nostalgia warms my chest. Though it is weird a dive bar would carry this, I am grateful all the same. It always gave me something to read and do when I didn't feel like socializing or was waiting for a signal from one of The Den to help extract them from, let's say, potentially sticky situations.

I'm about to read the trivia section when Enzo slides into the high booth next to me, immediately draping his arm around my shoulders. He tugs me in closer, and the trivia is completely forgotten as my body instinctively relaxes and warms under his comforting presence. The familiar smell of soap with a hint of motor oil envelopes me.

He kisses the top of my head and whispers into my hair, "I've always thought you looked adorable in twin braids, Billie."

I turn into him and scrunch up my nose. "Enzo, I look like a little kid."

His free arm reaches across my chest and takes hold of the end of one of my braids. Twirling it around his long fingers and grinning, his intense eyes meet mine, and he exhales. "I know, but it reminds me of when you were in seventh grade."

I blush, and not because I was older than most other seventh graders, having had to repeat kindergarten and fifth grade. No, I blush because that's when our closer-than-close friendship turned into a relationship. My one and only true relationship before my mates. When I first had sex at the age of fifteen. When I gave my virginity to Enzo. To the only person I'd ever wanted to. My body heats, and my heart snags on the memories. How he'd planned everything. How he lit candles and made a playlist for us. How he made it special for me and for him. Telling me that, to him, I was his first because I was the first one he chose to be with.

I turn around in my seat to face him, my hand smoothing out the stray hairs of his long ponytail, which has fallen to one side and in front, while he releases my braid. His green eyes appear clear, his olive skin glowing, and his smile, though not full, genuine. Leaning to my side and resting my elbow on the table with my head in hand, I grin. "How have you been, Enzo?"

He scoots a little closer and places his hand on my open knee that's bent up on the bench. His eyes trail to my lips, and he bites his. "I've been all right, Billie. Job's going well. Finally mature enough to listen and learn from Ed, the master mechanic, and with The Den I feel like I'm grounded."

Smacking him with a friendly backhand on the chest and smiling wide I exclaim, "Enzo, that's awesome! You've always loved working on cars and bikes. You've got a natural aptitude for it." I give him a quick tight hug and sit back, sighing. "I'm really happy to hear all of this."

He sips his beer, and his gaze never leaves my face while his long fingers massage the inside of my thigh above my knee. My body hums under the pressure. His touch is etched into my being, too familiar to ever push away. He licks the beer from his top lip and says, "You always believed in me, Billie. You were always there for me." His eyes grow heavy, his throat bobs, and he chokes a whisper, "Times when you were the only one."

An achy pressure assaults my heart, and emotions in the form of tears burn my eyes. Wrapping my fingers around his on my lap, I squeeze them and shove out a clogged breath. "You were there for me too, Enzo. We'll always be there for each other." We hold our gaze, and I hope beyond hope that my last statement is true. The anxious hollow forming in the pits of my stomach is all but pushing me to think otherwise. Everything is so different now. But I can't... I can't lose Enzo. Not now. Not ever.

"All right, Demon. Ya fellas are deadly and all, but they gotta go," Jake interjects, and I inhale a heart-saving breath, having felt like both Enzo and I were drowning under the weight of our wordless conversation.

Jake drops into the pub chair across from us with Marcus, plopping down on the seat next to him, shaking his head and laughing at his friend. I look at Jake, completely baffled with creased brows and twisted lips. "Dude. Why, Jake?"

He half turns around and points a hard finger at the bar at the other end of the narrow pub. "Are you feckin' kiddin' me right now with all those lasses circling them?"

Releasing Enzo's fingers, I press up onto my knees and stretch my neck out to gaze over at the bar. Yup, they're surrounded. Shocker. Flopping back down on my ass, I grunt. "Yeah, happens all the time."

"Well, can you go claim them or somethin,' Demon?" Jake pleads, pushing his hood back and ruffling his fingers through his sandy-brownish-blond hair. I can never really tell if it's brown or blond. He groans. "Once Jimmy gets here, it'll be even harder, and bollocks, I need to get laid." The last statement is sharpened with a slap of his palm on the table.

Little Fox goes from lazily lounging to wide awake, ready to mark her territory, and my face burns with her enthusiasm. Marcus sees the color change in my cheeks and points a finger at me, laughing at my embarrassment.

"Shove it, Marcus," I snarl with a narrowed gaze before turning to Jake. Rolling my eyes, I blow out a breath. "How do you expect me to claim them exactly?"

"Just make out with them!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air like I'm daft for even having to ask. "Everyone knows you here," Jake affirms, cocking his head to the side and hitching a brow. "And how savage you are. You make out with them, the lasses will back down and look elsewhere." He points a thumb at himself, winking. "And I'm elsewhere ."

I swear to God, Little Fox is primping herself, licking her paw and brushing it over her head and ears while fluffing out her chest and tail. She seductively purrs, and it sends tremors of heated desire through my body. My leg on the bench crosses over my other one, squeezing them together to alleviate the sudden throbbing of my core. I tug on my ear—my rather warm ear. Dammit, I bet they're red.

"Oh, a little ear tug. I see, Billie." Marcus cackles like the tosser he is. Knowing me far too well for my own good, with a hitched brow and chin tilt, he adds, "Not up for the challenge?"

I give him the finger and scoff in a way that says, Child, please. "Fine. But whatever happens is on you guys to explain to Jimmy." With that, I shimmy my way out of the booth and head over to, um, claim my mates. All three of them. In a packed bar. My stomach drops with my apprehension while my chest hums with Little Fox's delight.