Page 11 of Sawyer and the Bookworms

And yeah, we’re out for drinks. Gigi has dragged me to the Alpha Bet bar. It holds a special place in her heart because that’s where she met the beta of her pack, Grey, and it’s a nice place.

At first, I didn’t want to join them tonight, but the truth is, I needed to get out. Get out of the café where I spend my life, working behind the bar, sleeping upstairs, and get out of my own buzzing head.

I realize I’m tapping my fingers on the bar—one finger at a time, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, and that I don’t want to break the rhythm because if I do… if I do…

“Sawyer. What’s the matter?”

I pull my hand down to my lap, curl it there. Clasp it with the other one like I’m afraid it will escape and return to the bar. “Nothing. Everything’s great!”

“I want to think you’d tell us if there was anything wrong, anything we can help with,” Casey says.

“Nothing you can help with,” I tell him, and that, at least, is the truth.

“You know we’re always here for you,” Ronin says. “We’ll never forget how you helped us rescue Casey.”

“Hey, he was my friend first,” I reply mildly. “Did you think I’d abandon him when he needed me the most?”

“That’s what I’m talking about. You’re an awesome guy, Sawyer O’Connell. Now we only need to find you a nice pack?—”

“Not you too,” I snap.

I see them exchange looks.

“Touch a nerve?” he asks.

“Dammit. Sorry.” I reach for my drink, down it in two gulps. “I’m bad company. I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not running away, Sawyer. We’re going to dance.”

“Yeah.” I laugh. “Good luck with that. I don’t dance.”

“Oh, come ooonnn, Sawie…” Casey grabs my hand and pulls. Damn, he’s strong. “Let’s have some fun! We haven’t gone out together, in like… ever.”

True. And we’re still celebrating getting Casey back from the godawful pack who had bought him from his family and had planned on taking him without his consent.

I shiver at the memory.

With Gigi pulling on my right hand and Casey on the left, I hop off my stool and let them drag me to the gyrating, dancing crowd. Man, this bar is moonlighting as a dance club, I swear. Not that I’ve ever seen such a dancing mob even in a club—not that I go clubbing often, being more of a recluse and voluntary hermit.

Hey, being a hermit has its advantages. Quiet, books, comfort.

Not having to face reality.

The music is good here, though, and when Gigi’s alphas join us—Ronin and also Zayne who has just arrived—I find that dancing with friends is an awesome feeling. I’m getting into the zone, with the strobing lights showing me familiar, dear faces. It’s nice to see them happy. It eases a part of me that’s always on high alert, always stressed and worried.

“Yeah, move that body, man!” Casey bumps my hip with his, then Gigi mimics my movements so that we’re in synch, and I laugh, enjoying this.

Ronin goes and brings us a round of shots, grinning up to his ears.

Me, the innocent babe, I down mine, coughing when it burns my tongue and throat like fire. “What the fuck was that?”

“Jalapeno kamikaze shot.”

“Why, Ron? Why?”

“It sounded like fun at the time.” He downs his and winces. “Oh, spicy.”

“Jesus.” For some reason, the spice makes me want to laugh. And the aftertaste is delicious. “I think I want another.”

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