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“Dax! Don’t!” he calls out. Adam grabs my arm and I instinctually swing, grazing his chin with the edge of my fist.
He stumbles back, stunned, while I stand there horrified.
“Jesus, mate. I’m sorry.” The blinding rage takes a backseat to the fact that I just punched my best mate.
“No worries.” Adam rubs his jaw. “Huh. Honestly, I always wondered what it was like to fight you. I thought you’d hit much harder than that, actually.”
I’m shocked into silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. “If I had actually hit you, like full-on for real hit you, you’d have a broken jaw, mate.”
“No doubt. No doubt,” he chuckles. “So. Let’s go grab a cold one before we have to be at the arena, like the good old days.”
My eyebrows fly up. “The good old days? We’re only twenty. Do we even have good old days yet?”
“Yeah. We do. Feels much older sometimes, doesn’t it?”
I take a good look at Adam, a man I’ve known for most of my life. He’s right. He does seem older, worn down by life and its never-ending bullshit. The booze doesn’t do him any favors either. Yet despite all that, his public persona is captivating. People fucking love him.
“Yeah, sometimes it does,” I admit. Growing up in Hackney won’t keep you youthful looking, that’s for damn sure. “Fine.” I chuck the magazine on the sofa. “Let’s go. But I’m not going to forget what Lila’s done.”
Adam puts his arm around my shoulders and gives me a brotherly squeeze. Grinning, he opens the door, waiting for me to grab my wallet. “That’s all bullshit, Dax. We’re fucking rock stars, mate. Let’s go live like it!”
I glance over at the magazine and realize I’m too tired and too angry to deal with it right now. Maybe Adam is right. I need to loosen up.
“Let’s go. Lead the way, Mr. Reynolds.”
Why I thought doing anything Adam suggested would be a good idea, I have no bloody clue. The bloke is a walking disaster of epic proportions. Yeah he’s great and brilliant musician, but Adam’s judgment, especially post-Ellie, is total crap.
One thing I have to credit him with, he knows how to have a good time. We ducked out of the hotel without telling anyone and asked the cabbie to bring us to the nearest college bar. Women and alcohol are Adam’s answer to everything.
“That’s sooooo interesting,” a too-skinny redhead says, brushing her tits up against my arm as I try to scoot away on my barstool.
“Right, Dax. Sooooo interesting, isn’t it?” Adam copies with a smirk. He’s lucky we’re in public, or I’d smack that look right off his face. Okay, so I wouldn’t. He is my best mate, after all.
“What’s it like living in Seattle?” Adam asks a gorgeous blonde that has made herself quite comfortable on his lap. Huh, I guess we’re in Seattle. It gets confusing after a while. Too many cities. Even on a piss up Adam always knows where we are. It’s a talent.
“It’s not as fun as it must be in London,” she squeals. “Oh! Have you met Prince Harry?”
The redhead chirps in. “Yeah, he’s hot!”
“Ummmm, no. I haven’t,” Adam says, hiding his impending laughter behind his pint glass, his shoulders shaking in amusement.
These girls are idiots. Pretty to look at, but dumb as doornails. Perfect for a quick shag or suck in the loo. I blink hard, wondering why that though popped into my head. I have Kate. Smart, kind, brilliant Kate. I won’t ruin what we have for a nameless shag, no matter how hard my dick is right now.
“Dax, right?” the redhead asks, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Right.” I motion to the bartender who comes over straight away. “Can I have another pint?”
The dark lager slides across the bar into my waiting hand. I need it if I’m expected to deal with Red here grinding on me and no relief anywhere in my near future.
“You’re hot,” she says, dragging her painted fingernail down my pecs.
“Thanks,” I say blandly, keeping my ever-present composure up while my cock hardens in my briefs.
“Be right back, mate,” Adam says cheerfully, pulling the blonde towards the back of the bar. Fucker. The thought of him getting sucked off while I sit here drinking is depressing. And it makes my cock even harder from frustration.
Luckily, I’m an expert in self-denial. After years of having my urges controlled by my dad’s schedule, I know how to go without sex for extended periods of time. Six weeks is rough, but I can do it. I have to do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Kate.
“Chop chop boys!” Lila’s grating voice burrows right under my skin and starts crawling around like an army of ants.
