“I don’t know. I told you already. It’s just not what I do.”
“You ever consider why that is?”
“Not really. No.”
“Scared of rejection? Or the opposite?”
“I... uh… don’t know, man. I never thought that deep about it, to be honest.”
His head fell back and chest shook. “No fucking duh. You never think too hard about anything, do you?”
“Not really. I like to keep it light and airy up here.” I tapped my head. “No drama, no stress.”
Ryder leaned in close enough for me to smell the vodka and toothpaste on his breath, and gripped my thigh for emphasis. “Calling yourself an airhead is cute, but maybe not what you were going for.” His smirk dissolved into giggles.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant, like…”
“I know. I’m just joking.” Ryder was still laughing, his hand still on my thigh.
His eyes became more intense, and I swear I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me, through me, or something else.
Ryder was definitely flirting with me. Maybe he took my lack of desire to hit on a random group of women as interest? I didn’t have time to think about it since the guys were back. But before Miles slammed his hand on my shoulder, with Ryder still looking through me, I realized I didn’t care. Or really, I was glad he was.
“Another strikeout,” Miles said. “Bet they would’ve had better luck if you came with us, bro. Lost interest when they realized half of us were unavailable.”
Their return also surprised Ryder. Which was harder to understand since he was facing them, and I wasn’t.
“He didn’t want to go, Miles. Give it afuckingrest,” Ryder said with a sneer.
“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Miles said, meeting his brother’s tone.
“What’s my problem? What’s your fucking problem, asshole?” Ryder retorted.
Miles leaned back like he’d been hit. “Fuck you, douchebag.”
The tips of my ears burned, but my tongue was caught. What a dramatic shift from the breezy banter we’d just been sharing. I didn’t know what to say, just that I had to say something. Nothing came to mind.
I scrambled out of the booth to take Miles away and let him cool off. I didn’t know how Ryder got out before I did. It was a big booth.
They weren’t yelling, but they were in each other’s faces. The threat of violence was low, and we hadn’t attracted security's attention yet. My stomach twisted. I couldn’t remember them ever being at each other’s throats like that.
Ryder glared at his brother. “Fuck off, man. Seriously, I—You know what, I don’t need this shit. I’m out,” he said before storming off.
There was a moment of silence, held breath, and frozen muscles as we waited for Miles’s reaction. He didn’t curse or chase him down. He deflated. Then sat down in the booth and mumbled, “Asshole.”
I exchanged glances with the guys. It was so out of character for both of them, we were stunned.
Miles said, “Shots?” and we exhaled. Tyler offered to get the next round.
The night never recovered. Miles got blackout drunk. No one mentioned Ryder, but the air had changed. The tension never dissipated.
Well before Miles was denied entry to the fifth bar, I had this sensation in my gut. I tried to ignore it until I couldn’t. I wished Ryder hadn’t left. I wished we were still at that bar, in that booth, and all the other guys had left instead.
Chapter Three
Finn
Sitting by a fancy hotel’s private pool in Miami should’ve been the perfect place for guys our age to be. However, it was shit. Not fun at all. The whole morning wasn’t even close to enjoyable.
