𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐬

CHAPTER FOUR - THE PLAN

Minerva

"You're overreacting," Joey scoffed, putting down the plate of nachos in the middle of the table. She butted her way in the booth next to me, taking over half the space.

"I am not," was my lame reply. "Something's wrong about him."

As she rolled her eyes, Ody from across the table twirled her finger around her triple mooned amulet. A small, yet noticeable smile pulled at the corners of her lips like a bad omen. She knew something, something she wouldn't say. Unless the time was right, which I assumed, wasn't.

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Jo picked up the résumé, swooning over his picture again. "That face. There's absolutely no way it's real. Nobody's that perfect, not even actors."

"There weren't surgery scars, so I doubt it's fake."

She threw me a look, cocking a brow. "You searched?"

"I observed," came another lame reply. "But that's not the point. The point is—"

"Something's wrong with him, blah, blah, blah." Her eyes did that thing where her lids fluttered while she rolled her eyes. It was even more annoying than the typical eye roll. "You just want an excuse not to hire him. He seems to be a cool guy. Not to mention he's the love child of Chris Hemsworth and Brad Pitt."

"Oh, chérie, non," Odette shook her head. "He is ten times hotter."

I gaped at her, just as Joey gasped. "No way! He is?"

"Why are we—"

"I would lick him whole and not get bored," the psychic at our table stated while holding the most serious expression.

My sister clasped a hand over her mouth, lids peeled all the way up. "You've never said that about anyone."

"I've never said it about anyone," Odette confirmed grimly.

I glanced between the two nutcases, curious if the both of them were dropped on their heads as babies. I mean, they weren't wrong... but why did they have to say it? Was it really necessary for me and the few people in the bar tonight to hear?

As a Monday night, few decided to visit the bar to have a hungover the next day. The only few were the town's drunk from the bar—who'd been given his own bottle to consume to leave us alone—and the young adults gathered a booth away. It's been a few days since Andreus Lir stepped foot in my bar. A few days in which I hoped I made him sweat, until I contacted him on the behalf of my pressuring sister. There was not even an ounce of frustration on the line when I gave him the details. If anything, he was sunnier than a ray of sunshine. His voice—deep and sultry and dark as melted chocolate—turned sweet enough to make me sick.

Running a hand over my face, I tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Joey giggle. "Oh, I'd definitely sit on his face. His photo is hot, I can't imagine how he looks in real life."

Like a god, I thought bitterly.

"It matters not. I have a feeling he's not interested."

I perked up at Odette's words, happy to argue. "Somehow, I doubt it. He flirts more than a frat boy on steroids."

Joey eyes grew wider, brows jumping up. "He flirted with you?"