Written in the Stars(40)

Darcy stared at the sprawling menu on the wall with rounded eyes. “I don’t have any idea what I want.”

“Just go sit down. I know what’s good.” Elle shooed her off. “Seriously. Trust me.”

“Nothing with dairy, all right?”

“Roger that.”

Inching her way toward the bank of empty tables, Darcy shot her one final wary glance that made Elle roll her eyes.

After placing their order, Elle wiggled her way through the maze of tables until she reached the one Darcy had claimed in the far back corner. She collapsed into the seat across from Darcy and performed a quick double take at the state of the table. “What the—”

The salt and pepper shakers, bottle of hot sauce, both bottles of soy sauce, and the napkin holder had been moved toward the center of the table, dividing Darcy’s table space from Elle’s. Like a moat, only without the water.

Darcy smirked. “I happen to like this outfit.”

“What does that have to do with—” Oh. Oh. Her face heated, an undeniable blush creeping up her neck. “One accident and you’re taking precautionary measures?”

“Twice,” Darcy argued. “You spilled in my kitchen, too.”

“Once is an instance, twice is merely a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.” Elle winced. “But I really am sorry about that. It was . . . ugh.” The shame of that moment returned, the memory of spilling first her glass of wine and then knocking the table and spilling Darcy’s wine as fresh as if it had just happened. Elle dropped her face into her hands and groaned. “Not a great first impression.”

“Not like mine was much better.” Elle lifted her head to find Darcy looking contrite, lips tugged to the side. “Hindsight makes it seem trivial. It’s just— I was wearing my favorite dress. It belonged to my grandmother. So.”

Elle’s stomach plummeted. “Did it come out? The wine stain?”

Darcy lifted her eyes and offered a small smile. “It did. My dry cleaner is a miracle worker.”

Elle breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. Thank God.

“Two sake bombs?”

Elle glanced up, smiling at the waitress who held a tray with two beers, two shots of sake, and two pairs of chopsticks. “Thanks.”

Darcy glowered at her from across the table. “Sake bombs?”

All right, so maybe it wasn’t the best choice, but it didn’t have to be messy. You could chug neatly . . . if you set your mind to it . . .

Shrugging, Elle unwrapped her chopsticks and set them across the top of her pint glass, wide enough apart to balance the shot. It appeared Darcy needed a little cajoling when all she did was cross her arms and stare. “Come on. It’s fun. You pound the table, pound your drink, and try to finish first.” She wiggled her brows. “You aren’t scared, are you? Worried you won’t win?”

Eyes narrowed, Darcy snatched her chopsticks off the table and placed them across her glass. She reached for her sake, hand hovering in the air over the shot glass, and then changed course, finger reaching for the topmost button on her blouse. Brown eyes meeting Elle’s across the table, the corner of Darcy’s mouth twitched as she undid the pearl buttons of her blouse one by one.

Elle’s mouth went dry. “What are you doing?”

Darcy’s nimble fingers reached the middle of her chest, revealing a strip of nude lace. A camisole. “As I said, I’m fond of this outfit. If you’re going to all but dare me to drink with you, I’m not keen on ruining this top.”

Elle tore her eyes from Darcy’s cleavage and fiddled with the chopsticks atop her beer. “Ah. Good plan. I, uh, like the way you think.”

Darcy chuckled lowly and untucked her blouse, sliding it down her arms before hanging it over the back of the chair beside her. “I’ve never done one of these before. Do we go on three?”

“Sake bombs?” Elle goggled. What did Darcy do in college if not attend a copious amount of cheesy around the world parties featuring alcohol from other countries? Study? Elle lifted her shot of sake to demonstrate. “Okay. You balance the sake atop the chopsticks, like so. Then you count to three, preferably in Japanese. Ichi, ni, san, then you shout sake and bang the table with your fists. The shot falls into the beer and you chug it.”

Darcy shut her eyes and groaned quietly. “Are you serious?”

Elle chuckled. “You don’t have to.”

Darcy rolled her shoulders back, posture perfecting, and when she opened her eyes, her gaze was steely and determined. Elle wiggled in her seat. Piece of cake.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Darcy muttered.

“Okay. Ichi, ni, san . . . sake!” Elle banged the table, her chuckle mingling with Darcy’s bright bark of laughter as they both tipped back their glasses. Elle squeezed her eyes shut and opened her throat, swallowing as much of the bitter beer as quickly as possible. Foamy, slightly too warm beer dribbled down her chin, sliding down the front of her throat as her eyes and lungs burned, the latter demanding she take a breath. Just a little more.

The slam of glass against the Formica tabletop made her open her eyes. Cheeks pink and lips and chin wet, Darcy grinned, panting, all breathless and smug.

Elle lowered her pint glass, an inch of foamy beer left in the bottom. “What the fuck.”