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Booming laughter. “Yikes,” Taylor said, “even for the game that’s too much info.”
Lake folded back and closed his mouth on saying more.
“Our connection means everything,” Knight said quietly to Taylor, in a matter-of-fact way.
Lake’s chest fluttered, ridiculously hopeful. Was he acting . . . or not?
Cameron shoved himself out of the pool, a gleeful expression on his face. “My brother’s back. I gotta . . .” He charged off, water spraying over Lake’s arm. “Brandon!”
Taylor snagged his dad in conversation, and Lake shuffled over to Harry, who had paled considerably. “You okay?”
Harry gulped. “I wasn’t expecting Philip.”
What? Lake scoured the backyard and spotted shiny alligator shoes moving toward them.
Next to Philip was the guy from Josh’s party. The one Cameron worked with. Lake should have anticipated this, but he’d thought Philip would never agree to come. Not after . . .
Ugh. Uncomfortable.
Poor Harry!
“He’s not worth getting upset over, Harry. God, I’m so sorry for ever trying to set you up. Okay, he’s coming over. Smile and nod, and remember you’re amazing and deserve better.”
Harry settled his hands and bumped their shoulders. “Thank you, Lake. You’re a good friend.”
Harry’s tenderness made Lake choke. What a sweet, wholesome man he was. Lake was lucky to have Harry in his life, pineapple-print shirts and socks be damned. In fact, that was something Lake would also get into. The socks, anyway.
He slung an arm over Harry’s shoulders and braced for Philip’s approach. His ears really did stick out.
Lake could barely look at him without remembering. The compliments on Harry’s photos, the monologues, the horrible lemon incident . . .
Philip said hello and introduced his new boyfriend, and Lake and Harry bore the moment, flushed and quiet.
The boyfriend seemed an uptight, clever man with terrible taste. What on Earth did he see in Philip?
Thankfully they quickly moved away toward the drinks station.
Harry let out a relieved breath. “What do you think of the boyfriend?”
“A little blunt. Beautiful—in a lucky-genetics-and-good-taste-in-clothes way. But he didn’t seem particularly invested in Philip. I can’t see it lasting.”
“I hope they do,” Harry said, far too kind for his own good. “I am over the whole thing. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever into him to begin with. It’s not comparable, the curiosity I had with him, and what I feel—felt—with Martin . . .” He shrugged, and pulled out of the pool. “I need a drink.”
Lake climbed out after him. “Make that two of us.”
An hour later, he slowly sipped a martini, Knight’s words playing in his mind. Our connection meant everything. I prefer a man who thrives in the moment. Who happily disagrees with me, who I can disagree with. A man one-hundred percent himself.
West returned, interrupting his nerve-wrenching preoccupation.
West’s somberness had vanished, and he talked and laughed loudly, but Lake noted his slight agitation. He seemed uneasy about someone seeing him flirt who shouldn’t.
West shook himself. “I want to dance. Come with me?”
Lake liked the idea of dancing, but not with West. Not if it might look like something it wasn’t.
Knight was laughing with his son. Lake gnawed his lip, and pointed to his drink. “Maybe later?”
West happily pivoted to Josh, standing nearby, quietly surveying the party. “Would you dance with me?”
Josh smiled and West tugged him toward the dance floor.
Josh excelled at dancing, of course. But this time, fiery jealousy didn’t consume Lake.
Knight was alone now, hands in his pockets, staring ahead. His thoughts were elsewhere. Fairy light fell over his face, revealing a shiver of vulnerability in his expression. It made him look younger. Like he struggled with things too; wasn’t quite a know-it-all.
As much as Lake didn’t care how handsome Knight was, he couldn’t help noticing that Knight was.
Tall. Strong. Confident.
He was the sexiest man Lake had ever known. No one compared to him.
Knight caught his eye and smiled.
Lake’s heart jumped into his throat, and he smiled shakily back. He sipped his drink, feeling the prickle of Knight observing him.
He sternly told himself it might not mean anything more than friendliness.
Still, his palms grew clammy and he set his glass down before he dropped it.
Harry sidled up to Lake, slurping the last of a cocktail through a straw. “They can dance.” He gestured to West and Josh. “Gathered quite the crowd.”
The guests hemmed the dancefloor, watching them.
Within earshot of Lake and Harry, Philip enthusiastically exclaimed how much he liked to dance. “The Lindy Hop is my favorite. I’m wearing the right shoes for it, too.”
Philip looked beseechingly at his boyfriend, who shook his head. He’d eaten too much and didn’t feel like dancing.
Harry pressed his glass against Lake’s chest and asked him to hold it. “Sure.” Lake grabbed it. “What are you doing?”
“I can dance the Lindy Hop.”
Lake startled. “With Philip?”
“It’s only a dance—something I’ve wanted to do all evening.” Harry squared his shoulders and strode over to Philip. Lake admired Harry’s braveness. It was a show of forgiveness. Of moving on. Of saying they might meet each other again, so couldn’t they be friendly?
