Chapter 221: 221 | The Taste of Victory and Cheap Tequila [PS BONUS]

Jordan practically ran toward the nearest men’s clothing store. Naomi and Belle headed for a women’s boutique, while Misato made a beeline for a sporting goods outlet.

I found myself in a generic department store, grabbing whatever looked like it might fit. Jeans, a gray t-shirt, a black hoodie, socks, and boxers. The cashier rang me up with the speed of someone desperate to start closing procedures.

The food court was nearly empty when we regrouped. Jordan had opted for cargo pants and a t-shirt with some anime character I didn’t recognize. Belle wore new skinny jeans and a blue crop top that matched her hair. Naomi had found a pink sweater and leggings, while Misato stuck with practical black pants and a fitted gray shirt.

"I’m starving," Jordan announced, eyeing the mostly closed food stalls. Only a pizza place and a Chinese counter remained open.

"Pizza," Belle voted. "I need cheese after today."

No one argued. We ordered two large pizzas and collapsed at a table near the deserted center of the food court.

For a few minutes, we ate in silence, the reality of what we’d accomplished slowly sinking in. We were ranked first in Obsidian. Us. A team of lottery kids plus one guild-trained captain.

"Blair is going to lose her mind," Belle said around a mouthful of pepperoni.

"That’s putting it mildly," Jordan agreed. "She might actually combust."

"She’ll try to find a reason why it doesn’t count," I said. "Or claim we cheated somehow."

Misato shrugged. "Let her try. The numbers don’t lie. We outperformed them, fair and square."

"We worked together," Naomi said quietly. "That’s why we won. We trust each other."

I glanced at her, catching the warm look in her eyes. She meant it. We’d built something real in these past weeks—a team that functioned like a well-oiled machine. Each of us had our role, and we trusted the others to fulfill theirs.

Even me, the milk vampire who’d started out as the fattest, weakest lottery kid in the academy.

"Don’t get sappy on me," Belle warned, pointing a pizza slice at Naomi. "We won because we’re awesome and they suck. End of story."

Jordan laughed. "Both can be true."

As we finished eating, I checked the time on my phone. Just past nine. "What’s the plan for tonight?"

Misato considered. "We should rest. The bus leaves at ten tomorrow morning."

"Or," Belle countered, "we could celebrate. There’s a bar next to the hotel. I saw it when we walked past."

"We’re eighteen," I reminded her.

Belle rolled her eyes. "I have fake IDs for everyone."

"Of course you do," Misato muttered.

"Come on," Belle pressed. "We just beat Blair’s team. We’re ranked first going into winter evaluations. If that’s not worth celebrating, what is?"

Misato looked like she wanted to argue, but even she couldn’t deny the logic. "One hour," she finally conceded. "One drink. Then we rest."

Belle grinned triumphantly. "I’ll take it."

The bar was called The Rusty Nail, and it looked like it had been serving the same patrons for at least thirty years. Wood-paneled walls, neon beer signs, and a jukebox playing country music in the corner. A handful of locals sat at the bar, and a couple of pool tables in the back were occupied by guys who looked like they drove trucks for a living.

Belle presented our fake IDs with the confidence of someone who’d done it a hundred times. The bouncer barely glanced at them before waving us through.

"How did you even get these?" I whispered as we found a table in the corner.

"I know people," she replied vaguely. "Also, I might have flirted with a guy in the engineering program who has access to a high-quality printer."

"Of course you did," Naomi said, but she was smiling.

A waitress approached our table. "What can I get you?"

"Shots," Belle said immediately. "Tequila for everyone."

Misato shook her head. "Just a beer for me."

"Same," Jordan agreed. "I’m not trying to forget today. I want to remember kicking Blair’s ass."

The waitress looked at me expectantly.

"Beer’s fine," I told her.

Naomi hesitated. "I’ve never really drunk before."

"Beer for her too," I decided. "Let’s start slow."

Belle looked disappointed but didn’t argue. "Fine. Three beers, two tequila shots. One for me, one for the swamp that tried to kill us."

When our drinks arrived, Belle insisted we toast.

"To the Midnight Foxes," she declared, raising her shot glass. "First-ranked Obsidian team and bane of Blair Davenport’s existence."

We clinked our drinks together. "To the Foxes."

Belle downed her shot with practiced ease, then immediately grimaced. "God, that’s awful. This place doesn’t even have good tequila."

"What were you expecting in small-town California?" Jordan asked.

"Standards, Jordan. I have standards."

I sipped my beer, feeling the tension of the day finally starting to unwind. We were alive. We were victorious. For once, everything had gone according to plan.

The jukebox switched to a slower song, something about lost love and pickup trucks. A few locals got up to dance in the small space near the bar.

Naomi watched them, her fingers tapping along to the beat on the table. She caught me looking and blushed.

"I like country music," she admitted. "My dad used to play it on his boat."

"Want to dance?" The question came out before I could think better of it.

Her eyes widened. "Here? Now?"

"Why not? We’re celebrating, right?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

I stood and offered my hand, ignoring Belle’s exaggerated gagging sounds behind us.

The dance floor was just a small cleared area near the jukebox, but it was enough. I put my hands on Naomi’s waist, and she rested hers on my shoulders. We swayed awkwardly at first, finding our rhythm.

"I’ve never slow danced before," she confessed quietly.

"Me neither," I admitted. "At least, not in this body."

She laughed softly. "Are you good at it in your other body?"

"Terrible in both, I think."

She smiled, moving a little closer. "I don’t know. You’re doing okay."

Over Naomi’s shoulder, I could see Belle watching us, her expression unreadable. She raised her second shot glass in a mock toast, then downed it in one go.

"Everything okay?" Naomi asked, noticing my distraction.

"Yeah," I assured her. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

About how complicated everything had become. About how I was dancing with one girl while another watched from our table, and a third waited back at the academy. About how I’d started this whole thing just trying to survive, and now I found myself caring about these people in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

"Just thinking how different things are from three weeks ago," I said instead.

Naomi nodded against my shoulder. "You were dying."

"And now I’m not."

"And now you’re not," she agreed. "You’re dancing badly in a small-town bar after we beat Blair’s team and secured first rank."

I laughed. "When you put it like that, it sounds pretty good."

"It is good, Jace." She pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. "It’s really good."

The song ended, and we returned to the table. Jordan was already ordering another round, and Misato seemed to have relaxed enough to join in the celebration properly.

"One more hour," she declared, "and then we rest. We earned this."

One more hour. I could work with that.