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“Squir-what?” What the fuck was aSquirtle?
“Squirtle,” Lake said slowly. “Pokémon?”
“The kids show?” The name was familiar, but Grady wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone an individual name if his life had depended on it. He supposed he now knew one. Pikachu was another, though, wasn’t it? There had been a movie about it plastered everywhere a few years back.
“It’s not just for kids,” Lake said. “But yes.”
He shouldn’t ask but— “Is your ringtone Pokémon as well?” Who evenhadringtones for their messages? Grady had to keep his off silent at all times because of his job, but he just had the genericdingthat alerted him, not something specific.
“Nah.” Grady thought maybe he was in the clear and Lake kept it on silent or vibrate like normal people, but then he said, “It’s the Mario theme song. The old style, from the Super Mario World game on the Super Nintendo. It came out in 1990.”
Well, that amount of knowledge was scary. “Right. Okay. Anyway. Now you have my number.” That realisation almost felt like a nail being driven into his coffin. He could not believe he was going along with this madness. Grady didn’thang outwith people and especially not people likeLake. What were they doing? Beingfriends?The fuck was that?
“It’s a fifty-minute drive to where you are,” Grady said, mentally calculating the best route in his head from there to Canley Heights. “And I’ll be half an hour behind. That work for you?”
Lake shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Works for me!” he confirmed. He looked so goddamnedhappyabout their plans that Grady had no idea what to say or think about it. It had been a long time since someone had just genuinely enjoyed being around him. Mal had stopped wanting to, hence the cheating and dumping, he guessed. Mal hadn’t really stopped to explain anything to him, though Grady pretty much knew the reason behind it.
Quinn, maybe, but they’d been partners for so many years now that Quinn was used to who Grady was as a person.
Lake waved at him through the window as he merged into traffic and took off with that same easy confidence that Grady was trying so hard to ignore. It wasn’t his fault that competence was so sexy.
Fucking Christ. What was he doing?
Lakecouldadmitthathe wasn’t the world’s best cook in the world. Facts were facts, and more of his budget went towards ordering in with Uber Eats than his financial planner would be comfortable with. Not that hehada financial planner, but if he did, he was sure they would give him the same disapproving look that his mum did. Except at least his mum dropped a lot of food off for him along with the disapproving look. She had the innocent “I was just in the neighbourhood” look perfected. He didn’t think that was a service that financial planners provided. Or maybe they did. He hadn’t really thought much about what the day-to-day tasks of a financial planner were.
The point was that he wasn’t the greatest cook, and he relied too much on other people for his sustenance.Butsausages weren’t that hard. Stick them on the barbecue, and Bob was your uncle. Turn them after a few minutes, give them another few, and then take them off. Easy. They practically cooked themselves. Lake had done it before, in fact. More than once. Sausages in bread were basically an Aussie staple. His onions had cooked just fine this time, like every other time. The sausages… well…
Lake stared at the crispy charcoal and couldn’t decide where he’d gone wrong. Turned too early or late? Had he had it up too high? He didn’t think he’d gotten distracted. He’d been outside the whole time,andhe hadn’t even had a swim during. The cover was on the pool as proof that he hadn’t gone for a swim and forgotten about whatever it was that he’d been attempting to cook.
He entertained people all the fucking time, and it only just now occurred to him that he’d gotten some form of help or catering for all of those times. Even dinners at his place were usually some kind of potluck, and he always managed to find a way out of bringing anything but dessert, which usually came out of a cardboard box from the frozen section of the supermarket.
Fuck.
There went his chance to impress his new friend. Grady was gonna laugh himself sick and leave. He seemed like the kind of guy that appreciated a well-done barbecue. This was not one of those.
Lake needed a fucking beer. He put the plate of charcoal on the kitchen bench and then pulled off his shirt and threw it in the direction of the dining table, uncaring if it landed or slid to the floor. He was hot, and he didn’t want to wear it. Maybe it would look like he’d had hot sex. He missed hot sex. His last girlfriend hadn’t been that hot. She’d been attractive, and a lovely person, but they hadn’t heated up the sheets together. Neither had the one before her. The one before that had been smoking hot sex that had left him winded. But more misses than hits lately. He wasnotenvious of his best friendsorhis brother, because that would be fucking weird. So, he wasn’t. The end.
He was halfway through his beer and still glaring at the monstrosity he’d turned dinner into when his doorbell rang. Maybe some of Grady’s awesome whiskey would save this mess. If they got drunk enough, they wouldn’t even notice that the sausages just tasted like burned toast. Charcoal was good for you anyway.
Lake flung the front door open and couldn’t help but stare at the picture that Grady presented. He was in jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt was a deep burgundy, with a low collar and three-quarter-length sleeves. He had a black band around his left wrist just above his thick watch. His sneakers were scuffed and worn and looked comfortable. Based on the fresh smell of soap and shampoo, he must have showered too. He smelled nice.
“Relaxed Grady,” was interesting. Like a whole other persona from “suit Grady.” Even his beard looked different, which couldn’t be true, because how could a beard look different? Maybe he’d brushed it. It looked long enough to brush. Not like biker length; it wasn’t really something someone could grabhold ofexactly, but it was long enough that it looked like it could possibly get unruly.
Grady glanced down at Lake’s naked chest. “You don’t own another shirt? I could have brought mine back.”
Lake laughed. “Clothes are so restricting,” he said. He opened the door wider to let Grady through. “You should get a necklace,” he said, the thought falling out of his mouth before his brain had even finished thinking it.
Grady frowned. “Why?” he asked gruffly.
“Aves wears them, and Zach and Felix seem to like that,” Lake said, shrugging. “Likesexually,” he stage-whispered.
“If you’re trying to give me sex tips, just don’t,” Grady said. “I have no problem in that department, thanks. Shoes?”
“Just kick ’em anywhere,” Lake said, still stuck on the sex tips comment. Grady was a big guy, with a lot of muscle and bulk. He bet that guys liked that. Women liked it, so it made sense that men did too, right? Despite the fact that his brother and both his best friends were gay—all for each other—Lake probably should know more about being gay than he did.
He had to ask because he couldn’t stop staring and wondering. “Do you brush it?”
“Excuse me?” Grady asked, glancing up at him as he moved his shoes out of the way. Probably a good call. Lake could trip over nothing; he didn’t need help.
