‘Likewise,’ Lucy replies with a grin, and I’m just considering how similar their energy is when Dean Ratcliffe wafts up to us like a bad smell.
I didn’t even know he was here. I can count the number of times he’s stepped inside Bitten on one hand, so I can only assume it has something to do with Lucy being here. Or else he’s just trying to piss me off. I press my lips together to stop them curling into a sneer.
But he’s not even looking at me. He’s wheedled his way between me and Lucy, who is now chatting away animatedly to Fox about something or other.
‘I see you’ve met the real talent in this place,’ Dean says without waiting for an opening, and Lucy and Fox both spin to look at him. ‘On another level, aren’t you, Foxy? Juggles like a damn acrobat.’ He words it like a compliment, but I’ve known him long enough to know it’s actually a dig.
Fox doesn’t move, but I see the subtle wave of fury that grips her. She hates when people call her Foxy, although in fairness she did change her own display name in my phone to that, so maybe she just hates Dean.
Which, you know, fair.
‘I’m hoping to lure Fox over to the dark side.’ He’s still talking, even though literally no one has responded. ‘Ravenskull could really use the diversity of a he-she-they or whatever the hell pronouns we’re using now.’
He laughs at himself then, like he’s told the funniest joke in history but Fox just rolls her eyes. She looks like she’s about to tell him to take a hike when Lucy takes a step towards him.
‘What pronouns do you use, Dean?’ she asks, her voice steady and sweet. ‘You know, for my article.’
There’s silence for a second before he scoffs, his brow creasing. ‘Me?’ His snide little mouth pulls into a smile which is just the wrong side of confident. ‘I don’t use pronouns.’
‘Ok,’ Lucy replies, all sweetness and light. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her notebook, opening it with a practised flip. ‘I mean, you just used two, but I’ll make anote of it.’
Emmy and Fox barely try at all to conceal their twin snorts of laughter as Lucy scribbles something down underneath the notes she made in our interview.
‘Burn,’ one of them mutters before Dean fakes a laugh and struts off. We watch him until he reaches the door to thesmoking area around the back. It won’t take him long to find someone else to bother out there.
Lucy snaps her notebook closed just as Fox catches my eye over the bar and mouthsI LOVE HER.
And yeah, I get it. That was spectacular. She didn’t break poise even for a second.
‘Fox is nonbinary,’ I explain, and then before I can stop myself, I add, ‘and Dean is a dick.’
I mentally kick myself. It’s a damn good job Sammi isn’t within earshot– she’d kill me for that comment. I’m supposed to be making a good impression.
But Lucy just smiles, the forced sweetness replaced by genuine warmth as she turns back to Fox. ‘What pronouns do you use, Fox?’
I have to admit that when Fox first came out I had absolutely no idea what the right thing to say was, but Lucy seems to take this absolutely in her stride. I see Fox’s grin widen at the genuine interest.
‘I go by she/her at the moment, though I don’t mind any,’ Fox replies, sweeping her violet mop away from her face. ‘As long as you’re not a dick.’
Lucy laughs, and I don’t miss her eyes darting to me for a split second. ‘I try not to be.’
I don’t say anything. At this point it’s probably for the best, though I’m sure to get myself in trouble one way or the other. Instead I try to pretend I’m not studying Lucy as she chats easily to Emmy and Fox, zoning out as I follow the path of a loose curl around the edge of her face and down her neck. I imagine dragging my teeth over the pale skin there, and something turns over in my chest.
When I come back to the conversation, they’re all laughing.
‘Just be yourselves,’ Lucy says, ‘that’s what I’m interested in.’
I laugh too, even though I have absolutely no context for the comment, and I’m almost grateful when I hear Quinn’s voice behind me.
‘Who’s interested in who?’ he asks, as he strides over to where we are, apparently having abandoned tending the bar. There’s a petite woman half-hidden behind him, which I can only assume is his new love interest. She’s peeking at us through a fringe so thick she almost disappears behind it, and all of a sudden I realise that this is the first I’ve seen of her, despite her being the reason I couldn’t stay in my own bar. I try not to hold it against her– she looks scared enough as it is.
‘We’re all interested in where you’ve been hiding this one,’ Emmy says, not unkindly, black lips pulling into a soft smile as she turns her attention to the mystery woman. ‘Is he holding you against your will? Blink twice if you need us to intervene.’
‘Ok, you lot…’ Quinn says, gesturing vaguely around our group, ‘are arseholes.’ He straightens to his full height of not-quite-as-tall-as-me. ‘Andthis’—he twirls his girl out in front of him before artfully catching her and pulling her back against his chest protectively—‘is Stella. My fiancée.’
I damn near swallow my tongue.
My mouth must still be gaping when Sammi suddenly appears beside us, because she takes one look at me and laughs out loud. ‘I guess you’ve heard Quinn’s news?’ she asks, so casually that I almost can’t believe my ears.