I’m a huge Harry Potter fan. I’ve read all the books, listened to the entire series on audio more than once, and I own all the movies. I also saw every single one in the theater on opening night. “Big fan” is an understatement. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I didn’t need to go online to research tough questions since I’m so well versed already.

I’ve gone all out. Every drink and cupcake is HP themed. My posts are getting a record amount of likes, and we have twenty individuals entered in the contest. It’s going to be fabulous.

I’m decked out in my Gryffindor dress, wielding my Hermione wand and wearing my Hogwarts cape. It’s almost like a pre-Halloween party. If this event gets the same amount of attention as the comedy nights do, trivia night will become another monthly staple at B&B. I’m thinking Stranger Things deserves its own event, too.

At seven, the café begins to fill with entrants and their friends. Callie is kept busy behind the counter, Daphne is helping with drinks, and the hardcore HP fans are dressed in their house garb, devouring cupcakes and house-themed drinks.

I call out the names of the competitors and am completely shocked when Ronan walks into the café dressed in a Slytherin hoodie. The Slytherin part isn’t much of a surprise—he definitely fits the profile with his dark hair, less-than-aboveboard business tactics, and prankster ways, but the fact that he’s an HP fan is unexpected. Unless he borrowed the hoodie from one of his employees. I wouldn’t put it past him to use it as an opportunity to piggyback on another one of my ideas.

“You’re a Harry Potter fan?” I ask when he approaches the counter to register.

“Hell yeah.”

“The movies or the books?” I demand.

He scoffs and makes a face like he can’t believe I’d ask such a thing. “The books, of course. I own all the first-edition hardcovers and the soft ones, too. Plus Jim Dale nails the audio.”

“Oh my God, I love his voice!” The audio books are amazing, and I listen to them all the time when I’m at home, testing cupcake recipes.

We grin at each other, and for half a second I dislike him a little less. I register him to play, and he grabs a drink before he takes a seat at the table up front where all his fellow HP competitors are already waiting.

There’s a sizable crowd of non-entrants lining the fringe of the café as we get ready for the contest to begin.

Word to the wise: HP fans are ultracompetitive. The first three rounds of trivia weed out the I saw the movie but never bothered to read the books crowd. By eight we’ve narrowed it down to the best six contestants. Ronan manages to stay in the top three.

He nails the rapid-question round, putting him in the finals. His adversary is Shanna, a twenty-two-year-old lit major at the local college who’s writing her thesis paper on Harry Potter lore, so he has his work cut out for him.

I pull the final question, which has been selected randomly, and whistle into the microphone. “Wow, this one’s a doozy. For the title of Harry Potter Trivia Champion, a dozen of my magically delicious cupcakes and drinks for you and three friends, name every ingredient contained in Polyjuice Potion.”

Ronan and Shanna both slap their hands on the buzzer at the same time, but Shanna gets there a fraction of a second sooner, the red light bathing her face in a sinister glow.

“Shanna, what’s your answer for the win?”

She leans in to the microphone, closing her eyes—it’s how she’s answered every single question. “Lacewing flies, leeches, knotgrass, fluxweed…” Her brow furrows and she hesitates for a second before continuing. “Shredded Boomslang skin and a bit of the person you want to turn into.” Her eyes pop open and she smiles triumphantly.

“Is that your final answer?” I prompt.

“Yes. That’s my final answer.”

I admit, I’m disappointed when I have to say, “I’m sorry, but that is incorrect.” Shannon’s face falls like a pile of crumbling bricks.

“Ronan, would you like to respond and try to steal or would you like a new question?”

“I’ll try to steal, thanks.” He clears his throat, eyes fixed on mine as he leans in, lips almost touching the mic. His voice is a low, confident rumble. “The ingredients in Polyjuice Potion are lacewing flies, leeches, knotgrass, fluxweed, shredded Boomslang skin, a bit of the person you want to turn into and…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Powdered Bicorn horn.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Is that your final answer?”

A cocky grin spreads lazily across his face. “Yes, Blaire, it’s my final answer.”

“You’re sure?” I arch a brow.

His smile doesn’t waver. “Absolutely.”

“You are correct. We have a winner!”

“Hell yeah!” Ronan jumps to his feet and raises both fists into the air as if he’s won a round in the boxing ring. He turns to me and in what I can only assume is an impulsive show of victory, he wraps his arms around my waist, picks me up off the floor, and swings me around in a circle.

When he sets me down, I take a dizzy step back. He keeps his hands on my waist to prevent me from falling off the makeshift stage. “I gotta head back to the bar, but I’ll take a raincheck on the drinks.” He winks, jumps off the stage, and fist bumps his way to the front door.

The brief warm and fuzzies disappear the following night when Ronan hosts a Beer Pong Tournament. The loudest beer pong tournament in the history of the universe, apparently, because every thirty seconds there’s a collective “ooooooh” or “yeeeahhhhh” coming from his place.

It takes everything in me not to go over and check it out after I close up. And even then I peek through the window, just to see. It looks ridiculously fun. But I know if I go in there Ronan will find a way to make me participate, and I have terrible aim. I’m guaranteed to lose, which would also mean drinking beer. I have an early morning tomorrow, so I back away slowly and head home, where it’s mostly quiet and there are no twenty-one-year-olds playing beer pong in the apartment next door to mine.

Over the next several weeks my competition with Ronan heats up, both of us trying to outdo each other with new events, particularly since we’ve both made it through to the top one hundred bars from the over five hundred who were initially nominated for Tori Taylor’s Best Bar contest. The next round will bring us down to the top fifty, and both of our bars are currently hovering in the thirties thanks to social media votes. After that, the competition is going to get steeper with the quarterfinals, taking us down to the top twenty-five bars. I don’t want to get cocky or complacent though, since we still have a long way to go to number one.