Page 20 of Wingmen

He turned angrily to go back to the table, bumping Bennet’s shoulder, and Bennet caught his arm. Hard. He leaned in and his voice went low and gravelly.

“Hey. Don’t act like a little prick. Those were nice girls.”

“Yeah? Then why did they leave?”

“Probably because we were boring the shit of them!”

Elliot scoffed and tried to go back to the table, but Bennet’s grip tightened. He leaned in, jacket creaking and the smell of leather coming with him, and all the hair on the back of Elliot’s neck stood up.

“Why don’t we try to remember our manners,” Bennet said, very quietly, “and let those girls enjoy their night. And you and me can have a nice, friendly game.” He paused, and then smirked, leaned in closer, and added, “I’ll even blow on your cue if you want.”

Elliot froze.

Bennet’s breath had touched the side of his face, and his dick had moved in his jeans.

Heat shot up the back of his neck, and inside his head he said,No. Fuck, as everything around him came screaming to a halt becausehis dick wasn’t supposed to do that.

It was just because he’d seen that thing about Arsenault and Webb today. It was because he hadn’t eaten, and he shouldn’t have drank on an empty stomach, and because he’d remembered that video of Bennet getting up off the ice, which was his favorite video of Bennet – from the private playlist, which was private because there wereso many videosof Bennet in there – and okay, he’d jerked off to an Instagram picture of Bennet shirtless in a locker roomone timewhen he was fifteen, and also to the scene in the cowboy movie where they fucked in the tent,and then he’d stopped looking at things like that, and put whatever that impulse was in a box, and he’d locked the box, and he’d put the box in the trunk and his foot on the gas and he’d been going eighty ever since.

And now it was like the wheels had come off. He stared into Bennet’s eyes as the brakes failed and the windshield smashed and the dash crumpled and all the noise and light around them went away, and when it came back, Bennet had clapped him on the shoulder and was already walking away.

He went around the other side of the table and chalked his cue. “Your turn to break.”

Elliot’s dick was half-hard and his face was bright red, and he felt like the floor was going to slide out from under him. He stood numbly as the pieces of his world scraped themselves off the tarmac and staggered into traffic, bleeding and screaming for help.

Then he pulled his shit together and went to finish the game.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dustin

I’ll even blow on your cue if you want?

Dustin lay on his back with dawn coming under the blinds and blinked open his eyes. The idiotic thing he’d said to Rodriguez last night was the first thing that came into his head, and he laughed, squeezing his eyes under his hands.

I’ll even blow on your cue if you want.Jesus Christ, Bennet.

He threw back the covers and got up and went into the bathroom. Too many beers; he needed a piss or it was gonna come out of his ears. He braced on the wall behind the toilet with his dick in his hand and put his head down and closed his eyes.

He laughed again.

He went out to the bedroom and dressed for his walk and laced his sneakers and went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He laughed at himself in the mirror with the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

Shame he wasn’t gay. Such a great line to waste just fucking with Rodriguez.

The elevatordown to the lobby was blissfully quiet. Nobody else moved at this hour except the chihuahua on three who’d been demanding a five-thirty walk for as long as Dustin had lived there, but he’d apparently taken the morning off.

The river was four blocks east. He crossed the streetcar tracks and hit the running path on the bank of the Willamette. He checked his watch. Five thirty-three.

Walking for exercise was something Dustin was still getting used to. Dr. Wu said walking was like meditation, and that Dustin could practice focusing on his steps, noticing his breathing, the sounds around him. Dustin already did all that. He could do all that while running.

The light on the river was gray and still. An old man and an even older Labrador passed in the opposite direction as a woman in a high-vis vest put a paddle board in the river at the dock. At the end of the first mile the path went under a bridge and out the other side onto a wide plaza with a view back down the river. His watch read five forty-nine. Nailing a fourteen-minute mile.

The sun was just beginning to broach the skyline so he stopped to watch it. He did the bend-and-flex check of his knee that had become habitual. A little stiff, but that wasn’t unexpected in the morning. May have gone a little hard on the ladder.

He leaned on the rail at the edge of the plaza and looked down into the water.

I’ll even blow on your cue if you want.