Brand pushed up his glasses.“Besides, we are rockstars now.”
Alex laughed a big, deep laugh.“Go on saying that and Lon’s head’ll swell so much it’ll explode.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen to our youngest member, would we?”Arend drawled, then he sauntered to the bar, his coat swaying in step.
“Definitely not,” Ry said.He followed Arend, the rest of the band coming up behind him.
Arend handed drinks to everyone.“To the success of Ghostfire, and my dear friends.”
“To Ghostfire!”they all said, raising the glasses and downing the drinks instantly.Alex slammed his glass on the counter.
A surge of energy pushed Ry to his feet, and he pulled Alex away from the bar.Though no dance floor existed, Ry spun and weaved, improvising a playful routine around mismatched wooden chairs and the loud conversations of other patrons.Alex, initially hesitant, moved to the rhythm, a reluctant smile growing.As the last notes faded, Ry laughed, warm and genuine, as he drew his boyfriend into a close embrace.
On his tiptoes he whispered in Alex’s ear, “I like your face.”Ry nipped Alex’s earlobe.Alex chuckled and picked Ry up and carried him back to the pool section where Lon and Brand had started a game.Arend, smiling, waved them over.
Brand sank another with a crisp thwack, the sphere disappearing into the dark pocket, leaving him with only the battered eight ball.Lon’s fingers danced on the edge of the table, tapping the scuffed, deep green felt.He surveyed the few remaining balls scattered across it and sighed.Early on Ry learned his chances of victory against Brand were slim.Alex was terrible at pool, a fact many never uncovered.Few guys relished the prospect of facing him.
After sinking the eight ball, Brand asked, “Who wants a go?”
“I’ll play.”Alex grabbed a stick from the rack.
Ry leaned, his weight pressing against the cool, solid wall, the lingering beat of the music making his body sway.Lon stood beside him, his posture relaxed.Arend sat on a stool near Ry, his soft humming a counterpoint to the melody.
Alex had improved his pool game.His strokes were now sharp, a blur of motion.The way he licked his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration.A familiar ache rose in Ry, his chest expanding, and his vision narrowing to Alex.The way his fingers, calloused from hours of guitar practice, slid along the cue stick.His wide stance, as he leaned over to aim, implacable even during the worst of their shows.
“Ry, did you hear me?”
“Huh?What?”
“Never mind,” Lon said, sighing.“I know when you’ve gone moony over Alex.Shouldn’t that be over with by now?”
“Nope!”Ry crossed his arms.“I can’t help it.”
Brand, bathed in the dim glow of the overhead light, surveyed the table, the eight ball lined up perfectly.Alex, with a nervous twitch in his posture, still had four shots remaining, a small mountain to climb.Ry's lips quirked up.Then, with a clack of the cue colliding, Brand sank the last one.He turned, a genuine, amiable smile on his face, and extended his hand.Alex met it, their palms connecting in a firm grip.Nerds.
“Have fun?”Ry said when Alex returned the stick to the wall.
“Yeah, I’m getting better,” Alex said.
“Mmm, I noticed.”
“I recognize that tone,” Alex said, turning to grin at Ry.“But you need to wait, babe.”
“Waiting is not in my wheelhouse,” Ry purred.“It’s not my strong suit.”
“I am well aware.”
“You’re a dick,” Ry said, reaching out to pull on his belt.
“I am, and you fucking love it.”He leaned closer.
“Rude.”Ry played with the band of his jeans, tugging gently.The fabric yielded, and he glimpsed skin on his hip, a splash of trimmed dark hair.
“Are you sure that I’m the mean one?”Alex tugged Ry nearer, their bodies pressing together.
“Yeah, cuz you’re gonna tease me until I go too far and then you’ll make me wait until I get home like a total jerk.”
Alex clicked his tongue.“That is my MO.”
