Page 102 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Joy, still shaking water from her hair, scoffed. “And?”

“And,” Max dragged out, “there’s a bar nearby.”

Shun groaned, not even looking up from her phone. “Oh, here we go.”

Max ignored her. “I say we go get drinks.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” I asked, raising a brow.

Max grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” He gestured toward the bar in the distance. “See the witches standing outside the entrance?”

We all turned to look. Sure enough, two tall, cloaked figures stood on either side of the door, scanning people before letting them in.

“They seem to be letting in couples,” Max continued. “So, lucky for us, we happen to have an amazing couple right here.”

He looked directly at me and Ethan.

I almost choked on air. “Excuse me?”

Ethan, to my absolute horror, smirked. “You think we’d make a great couple, Max? You should’ve just said you’re a fan.”

Max threw an arm over my shoulder. “Oh, I’m more than a fan. I’m the founder of the Clark-Ethan ship.”

I shoved his arm off. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re in denial.”

Before I could argue, Max held up a finger. “Wait, I’m not done. Since most of us are soaked, and someone is still dry, I’m donating my last pair of dry clothes to Ethan. And since we can’t exactly go in looking like high schoolers, I conveniently brought fake beards.”

Joy blinked. “Max. What the hell?”

Max grinned and pulled a small bag from seemingly nowhere. He shook it slightly, and out tumbled two ridiculous-looking fake beards.

I stared at them. “You brought that, but not extra snacks?”

“Priorities, Clark.”

Ethan was already holding the dry clothes against his chest, inspecting them. “So let me get this straight. Ghost Boy and I pretend to be a couple, sneak into the bar, grab drinks, maybe dance a little, and leave before we get caught?”

Max nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly.”

Ethan turned to me, raising a brow. “Well, babe? You in?”

I groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Max clapped his hands together. “That’s the spirit!”

Ethan started unbuttoning his wet shirt. I instantly turned away, heat creeping up my neck.

Max nudged me. “You looked.”

“I did not.”

“You so looked.”

I ignored him, trying to focus on literally anything else while Ethan changed. When he was finally done, he looked… annoyingly good. Max’s clothes fit him well—almost too well—giving him the effortless confidence of someone who knew he looked good.

I scowled. “You look normal. Great. Can we go now?”

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