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“What just happened?”

“First rule of hooking up,” Ollie raises one finger, “if he comes back, it means he’s really interested in you. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss.”

“I want to drink a Tequila Sunrise, anyone else?” Michael asks us.

“I’ll try one.” I raise my hand.

The sudden feel of a body pressing against mine turns my back stiff.

“Did it hurt?” The misty words uttered near my ear make me flinch.

“What?” I shift, forcing the body to move back slightly. There’s a tall, large, brawny guy in front of me. He’s wearing a very tight long-sleeve shirt, his blond hair is gelled back, and his black jeans leave almost nothing to the imagination.

“When you fell from heaven…did it hurt?” His fingers caress the end of my braid, forcing me to lean away against the counter behind me.

“Did you just confuse me with Lucifer?” I ask, not understanding his sudden question.

His eyes stop going up and down my body, lingering on my legs. I feel a little uncomfortable.

“Lucifer?” The guy’s expression has turned into a frown now. “No…I…”

“Ohhh, burn!” I hear Lori snort, but the guy’s attention is completely on me. He’s objectively handsome, but my body is rejecting his nearness.

“Never mind. I am here now. What are your other two wishes?” He gives me a toothy smile, leaving me puzzled once again.

“Crikey, you can’t stop being lame,” Lori clips just before he drags me close to him.

The beefy guy sends a hateful look Lori’s way.

“Find it hard to follow me? Yeah, my fiancés have the same problem at times.”

“Fiancés?” he asks.

“He has two,” Ollie explains, before gulping another shot.

“Wow! I can actually see the smoke coming out of his head,” Michael laughs at the guy.

“Fucking bitches!”

“If I wasn’t already married, this would have me erase Tinder from my phone,” Ollie teases.

“Fuck you, you crazy, ugly whores.” The guy’s face has turned red, he looks furious. Another very tall, very beefy man has made his way over, a friend of his I suppose.

“Were you suddenly hit with Tourette’s syndrome?” Lori asks him.

“No, Lor. He’s simply an incel.” Ollie smirks, giving the guy a long look.

“A what?” he growls angrily.

“An incel is a person, usually male, who has a horrible personality and treats people like sexual objects, thinking his lack of a sex life comes from being ‘unlucky’ when the cause is his blatant sexism and terrible attitude.”

“In other words, he is the entitled jerk who calls you an ‘ugly bitch’ right after you ignore or reject his brave, but gross attempt at an opening line,” Michael adds.

“Hard pass,” Lori finishes. “Plus this bitch,” he touches his chest, “is very crafty. I suggest you shut your arse and run along!”

“Fuck that! Let’s settle this outside, you freaks!” the blond guy snarls.

“Really? Didn’t you hear my crafty bitch warning?”