“Only because I love you, Laurel,” I acquiesced. “And you get an hour. One. Two at best. You know how I feel about Glass and her groupies.”
Laurel let out a small squeal of excitement.
“Yes! You’re the best. And I swear, some of the other folks joining us tonight are halfway decent, too. Meet at my place around 8?”
“As you wish, you little party daemon,” I sighed, pausing at the corner. We had reached Laurel’s apartment building on the west side of the student housing complex.
“Don’t you dare cancel on me,” she threatened, daggers in her eyes. “I know where you live.”
It was a valid threat to make, as I had certainly left her hanging on more than one occasion, like the gods-awful friend I was.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. See you soon,” I replied.
“See ya,tiny Conduit,” she called over her shoulder.
“Don’t make me change my mind, Ansari,” I warned.
Laurel simply cackled and walked off, dark curls bouncing and gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
Gods,that woman was a pain in the ass. I adored her.
Later that evening, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Laurel had made good on her promise. Some of the other Conduits who were out with us tonight were actually pretty entertaining… and attractive. It was a nice distraction.
I had been out for much longer than an hour now. Expensive wine was flowing and it had loosened quite a few things—lips, neckties, inhibitions. Laurel had unsurprisingly ended up in Cypress’ lap, while a few of their friends were volleying pointed barbs back and forth over some mutual acquaintance who had recently fallen out of favor. We were all clustered together in a more private booth in the corner of The Clover, enjoying the food, plentiful alcohol, and a local bard’s set.
I could feel my interest fading, and I let my eyes wander across the tavern. I loved Laurel, I really did—and I had been having fun for the most part—but it was around this time that I had a tendency to lose interest in the conversation. I could fake plenty of things, but passing judgment over some Conduit for dating some no-name, non-Resonant farmhand? I mean, seriously? Some friends they were. What did it matter?
I took another sip of my honey-whiskey, trying not to roll my eyes.
“Do they always gossip like this?” An unfamiliar voice murmured to my left.
I turned to find that an attractive man was now seated beside me, one of the few new faces that had joined us for a night of drinks and distractions. Mason, I think his name was. MasonPark. There was a devilish sort of gleam in his dark brown, almond shaped eyes that crinkled in the corners as he smirked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I replied with a grimace, eyeing him over my glass of ice and liquor.
“How boring.”
My thoughts exactly.
“You a friend of Cypress?” I asked casually.
“Gods, no,” he replied. “I’m friends with Jaf—Cypress’ older brother. The one who’s trying to hit on the barmaid over there.”
That explained why he seemed a little bit older than the rest of us. Mason nodded across the room, where Jaffrey Glass was looking to be mid-rejection from the woman tending bar tonight. Rough. My eyes glazed over a bit as Jaf returned to the fray, though I did have to laugh when Mason used his Air arcana to ruffle his friend’s hair.
“Can’t win ’em all, bud,” Mason chuckled.
The group conversation eventually drifted away from their weird circle-jerk of self-proclaimed superiority, but my attention continued to phase in and out. I kept myself entertained by people watching, though “entertained” was probably the loosest of terms tonight. There weren’t any particularly interesting groups or pairings to observe, mostly just a throng of my fellow Conduits getting sloshed and dancing the night away.
I was about ready to call it for the evening when my ears pricked up over some casual debate between Jaf and Fahra Nykos, another one of Cypress’ groupies.
“Nah, guys, I’m telling you—everyone has at leastonekink. If you think you don’t, you just haven’t discovered yours yet.”
“Gods above, now you’re just being gross, Jaffrey.”
“I’mbeing gross?” Jaf barked. “Come on now, Fahra—we all know your ex had a foot fetish. Are you really gonna sit there and judge someone if they like to be tied up and spanked a little?”
I smirked behind my glass of whiskey, before realizing all of the ice had melted beneath my warming hands. I sighed, frowning for a moment. It would be so easy to refreeze the ice with a simple little spell, but the convenience of a cold beverage wasn’t worth the risk of being seen. I drank my damn watered down whiskey as is.