“Coming right up.” Luke winked and headed straight for the snack table. He tilted the case of beer on its side, reading the label, chuckling softly. He looked over his shoulder at the group, eyes narrowing. “Okay, who’s the hophead here?”
The what?
Brendon pointed at Margot with his marshmallow skewer. “Mar brought the beer.”
Luke leaned back against the railing beside the table and crossed his ankles. He wagged his finger at Margot, tutting softly. “Ah, you’re the hophead. Should’ve guessed.”
What was that supposed to mean? “It’s beer. Nothing to get all Reefer Madness about, Officer.”
Luke threw his head back and laughed. “No, you misunderstand. It’s IPA. Hops, therefore you’re a hophead.”
Short of being told she was wrong, there was little more that pissed her off than a line like that. You misunderstand. Maybe he wasn’t clear. Margot smiled through clenched teeth. “Huh. Clever.”
“Now, I’ve got to ask.” Luke lifted a bottle from the case, holding it up to the moonlight as if that would do jack all. “Do you actually like IPAs, or is it just the first craft beer you tried and it stuck?”
Wait, did he just call her boring? Holy shit. Margot opened her mouth—
“We’re partnering with that brewery,” Elle said with a smile. “Margot and I. We’re the voices behind Oh My Stars.”
“Astrology, right?” Luke snapped his fingers in recognition, nodding quickly. “You know, I’d be interested in seeing a demographic analysis studying the correlation between people who prefer popular varieties of craft beer and those who buy into modern-day Western astrology.”
Buy into. Margot’s blood boiled. What a crock of condescending horseshit.
Elle’s left eye twitched, and Brendon gave a preemptive wince. Margot took a deep breath. She would not rise to the bait, she would not rise to the bait, she would not rise to the bait no matter how much this dude was just asking to fuck around and find out.
“If only Elle and I weren’t so busy,” Margot said, and from the corner of her eye, Brendon’s shoulders dropped in obvious relief that Margot hadn’t snapped back.
Look at that. Margot smiled. Growth.
Luke frowned. “I don’t think it would be that difficult. Two sets of a data and a simple t-test would tell you everything you need to know.” He crossed his arms. “You know, the t-test—well, actually, it’s the Student’s t-test—was named after William Sealy Gosset, under the pseudonym Student. And interesting fact—Gosset worked for Guinness. He developed the t-test to prevent rival breweries from discovering the statistics Guinness used for brewing their beer. Ergo, it would be rather apt to use the t-test when analyzing your own data around beer.”
“Speaking of beer.” Olivia smiled pointedly at the bottle in Luke’s hand.
“Right.” He laughed and studied the bottle briefly before narrowing his eyes in obvious contemplation. “Are you partial to IPAs or would you be up for something a little different? A little less bitter, maybe?”
Margot frowned.
Olivia shifted slightly, then shrugged. “I—”
“Would probably like something to drink sometime this century,” Margot muttered under her breath so only Elle could hear.
Elle pressed her lips together and elbowed Margot softly in the side, turning and staring at her with wide, laughing eyes.
“—don’t really have a preference,” Olivia said, shaking her head.
Luke set the bottle down. “I picked up a case of gose at Safeway. It’s not as good as the stuff you actually get in Goslar, Germany, but it’s close. Kind of a fruity, sour beer. You interested?”
“Um.” Olivia laughed and threw her hands up. “Sure, I guess.”
“Awesome.” Luke grinned and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
As soon as Luke was out of earshot, Brendon turned to the group and laughed, albeit stiltedly, raking his hand through his hair. “I think he’s nervous. Odd man out, you know?”
“We’ve all been there before,” Annie said, and Olivia nodded.
Conversations splintered off, Brendon drawing Olivia into a conversation with Katie and Jian, Annie and Darcy speaking quietly with their heads together, each holding a glass of wine.
Elle cleared her throat quietly and tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on the side of her face, the rock on her finger twinkling when the moon hit it just so.