One hour and nine ounces of wine later, Sarah is leaning into him a lot.

They’re crowded into a curved half-booth at a hipster bar not far from Logan’s. The booth is really not meant for tall people, let alone two of them, and Sarah’s leg had been pressed up beside Lucas’s from the start. As she nursed a big glass of wine, though, the rest of her began melting toward him too.

He’s probably encouraging it, honestly. Hamil started telling her a story about when they’d gotten in shit for trying to help their grounded friend break out of his own house, a story that really makes Lucas look pretty ridiculous, and when she’d turned to him in a fit of giggles, he’d tickled her side a little to retaliate. She’d squirmed around and almost fell out of the tall booth, so he’d grabbed her, hauled her back in, and then hadn’t moved his arm from behind her shoulders. It’s more comfortable this way anyway without his big arm in the way, Lucas figures. It definitely has nothing to do with how Sarah had immediately taken that opportunity to melt into his side.

The air conditioning in the bar is a little crazy, he reasons.

“Hey,” Sarah says suddenly. “If I order deep fried fries, will you guys help me eat them?”

“Is the Pope Catholic, Sarah?” Lucas jokes. “Obviously, Sarah!”

“Great.” She slides out from Lucas’s side - he tries hard not to notice that it now feels kind of cold - and meanders off to the bar to place the order.

Hamil smiles at him. “I like her for you, man.”

Lucas scoffs. “Not this again. Hamil -”

“Just saying.” Hamil jerks his head in Sarah’s general direction. “She seems to like you. She’s even laughing at your terrible jokes.”

“Even if there was something, which there isn’t,” Lucas emphasizes, shooting a look at Hamil, “she’d be way out of my league. Also, my jokes are good!”

Hamil shrugs that off. “I’m telling you. She likes you.” He taps his temple. “Uncle Jevon knows.”

“I am six months older than you, Uncle Jevon.”

“Don’t have to be older to be wiser.”

“Oh, piss right off -”

Sarah skips back in suddenly. Lucas hopes she hadn’t heard of that. Judging by the gleeful look on her face, he’s safe.

“What are you so happy about there, Sarah?” he asks.

“The fries are on their way,” she says happily. Her cheeks are a little pink from the wine, and it’s so damn cute, he can’t stop himself from laughing.

“Easy to please, are you?” Lucas teases.

Hamil finishes off the last of his pint. “Everyone loves fries, Lucas. I’m going to get another, you guys need any?”

Lucas holds up his own half-empty pint and nods, but Sarah shakes her head. “I don’t drink that much, I need to wait it out.”

“Alright.” With a nod, Hamil disappears into the crowd.

“You guys are funny together,” Sarah observes, tapping her fingernail on the base of her wine glass. “Your accent is thicker than his, though. Why’s that?”

Lucas points at himself. “I haven’t got an accent, Sarah, that’s the rest of you.” Sarah rolls her eyes at him, and he laughs. “Yes, yeah. Probably because Hamil spends half his time trying to impress girls in London and most of them socialite types don’t want a guy that talks like he works in a boat yard. I have been told, however, that chicks dig the American accent?”

“Those girls are all boring anyway,” Sarah says, waving her hand. “If I had to pick between the two of you, I’d pick you any day, Lucas. Not only cause of the American though!”

It’s pathetic, he thinks, just how much that warms his heart. “Thanks, Sarah,” he says sincerely, squeezing her knee in thanks. “Nice of you to say.”

Sarah grabs his hand just before he can withdraw it from her leg. “I mean it,” she insists. He takes a chance and spreads his palm across her thigh. She sighs, sounding content, and relaxes into him again. “I can’t wait for my fries, Lucas.”