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I tap on the Instagram icon on my phone and search his name. A logo for freelance graphic design comes up, along with a little blurb and several albums showing off his work. It looks good. He’s talented.

He’s got a separate personal account, and I click on that, then scroll more until I find some pictures of him from what I would guess was this summer, out by the pool at his house and the fire pit in his backyard. His style is dark. Everything in black and burgundy and deep purple. He has his hair longer than I remember, and is that a lip ring?

I stretch the picture with my fingers so I can zoom in on his lips. They’re plump and the perfect shade of pink, and yeah. That’s a lip ring. My cock stirs as I stare at the photo. God, that’s hot. My cock twitches again, and I lay my phone down and squeeze my temples.

I need to stop. It’s Darian. Darian Archer. Nate’s little brother. Nate’s very adult, very grown, very good-looking little brother.

Fuck.

Chapter 4

Darian

Ihate Mondays as much as I hate every other day of the week, but thankfully, the day goes by quickly, filled with work and emails and too much coffee. By the time I’m finished, it’s later than I expected. My fridge is empty, and I’m one hundred percent not up for a trip to the grocery store. So instead, I grab my ratty black sweater, the most comfortable one I own, and head out to the diner to get something to eat.

The diner is a staple in our town. It’s the place where people go any hour of the day and can pretty much get whatever they want. The food is good, and they’ve managed to stay affordable. It is slightly run-down, but part of that is where its appeal comes from. The old wood paneling and red carpet just add to the charm.

As I enter the building, my nose is filled with the scent of fried food and coffee. The clanking of dishes and silverware warms something inside of me, sending a familiar feeling all the way to my bones. Another reason I like to come here.

I scan the tables and the bar seating area. At the far side of the diner, Katie and Ryan are sitting in a booth with food in front of them. Ryan catches my eye and smiles, waving me over.

“Hey, man,” he says as I approach their table.

“Hey. I don’t want to intrude,” I say, motioning between the two of them.

“Oh my god, Dare. It’s fine. Sit. Ryan and I see too much of each other anyway!” Katie smiles at me and scoots over, patting the ragged vinyl burgundy booth seat beside her.

With a sheepish grin, I slide in the booth. There’s a discarded straw paper sitting on the table, and I pick it up and start folding it in my fingers, needing to keep myself busy, I guess.

“Soooooo,” she says, bumping my leg with her knee. Even that little touch feels so good. I move my leg so it rests against hers. “I hear that you and Jenna had a little moment on Friday night.”

“Katie,” Ryan warns, kicking her under the table.

“Ow! Ryan! I’m just making conversation.” She bends over as well as she can with the table in her way to rub her shin. Ryan rolls his eyes and looks at me.

“It’s cool. I mean, nothing really happened.” I shrug and turn my attention to the server, who stops at our table to take my order. I tell her what I want and that I want it to go. She winks at me as she walks away, heading to the computer to put my order in. With a sigh, I turn toward Katie again, making sure to soak up all the heat of her leg against mine. “I like Jenna.” She smiles brightly. “I just don’t know that what she wants is what I can offer her.”

“What’s that mean?” Katie asks, her big doe eyes searching my face.

“I just . . .” I sigh again. “I don’t know. I think Jenna’s a great person, and she’s gorgeous, but I think she wants more, and I’m . . . I’m not . . . I’m just not looking for that.”

Ryan scoffs. “Yeah, Dare wants the dangly bits, not the hot pocket.”

Katie gasps, and I chuckle, shaking my head. She points a french fry at Ryan and scolds him. “You’re disgusting.” She pops the french fry into her mouth, turning to me. “I think you guys would be so great together, but whatever.”

She turns her attention back to her food, and I glance at Ryan. He shrugs like he’s saying he tried to tell her, and I just shake my head and smile.

“So, I talked to Lindsey Richardson the other day,” she drops, clearly not done with the conversation. I freeze, the straw paper that I was wrapping around my finger now turning the tip of my finger purple. I loosen it a little as she continues. “Apparently Lev is back in town.”

She takes a sip of her soda, her face turned toward Ryan but her eyes sliding over to me. I swallow hard and look at Ryan again. He’s no help, though, and so I drop my eyes back to my hands and tighten the paper around my finger again, waiting for Katie to continue.

“She said that he’s taking over his uncle’s motorcycle shop on Merchant Street,” Katie finishes.

I know the shop. I go by it often on my way to the bar where I like to hang out. It’s a nice shop, and his uncle did a great job with it, but I haven’t been there because I’m not into motorcycles. I clear my throat.

“Have, um—have you seen him?” I croak out, the words getting stuck in my throat. Katie glances at Ryan, and then he looks at me.

“I have not,” she says. “But Lindsey seemed really excited to have him home, and I’m sure he’s happy to have the shop now.”