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That’s his ex he’s been on and off with for two years, madly in love but not being able to deal with the fact that Jamie’s workplace is less than gay-friendly, hence the fighting and breakups.
“I don’t want to go out tonight,” I say, wrinkling my nose in apology. My new story pumps my blood with excitement, and I need to keep writing.
Tito doesn’t seem discouraged by my answer. “Is Jace home?”
Jealousy pounces its claws at me. “Oh, I see.”
Just then, Jace steps out of his room, and my heart does a cartwheel.
He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and shorts that go down below his knees. Just an extra patch of exposed skin makes Jace even more delicious.
And Tito is trying to steal him away.
Not a chance.
He has a crush on Jace.
Ihave a crush on Jace—there, I said it.
So does Pushkin.
I’ve never met a guy who’s so quiet and elusive yet manages to get everyone under his spell.
“I don’t really feel like going out,” Jace says with a sympathetic gaze when Tito suggests bar-hopping, and Tito exhales through his puffed lips in frustration. “But hey, how about a drinking night at home? Here?”
Tito sits up like a ninja and points his forefingers like guns at Jace. “Jace! Buddy! I fucking love you!” Then he turns to me. “You’re in?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, failing to hide my excitement, and catch Jace’s smiling glance at me.
An evening with my two favorite guys? Yes, please. My book boyfriend is right here, ready to get drunk.
“And Jace picks the music so we don’t fight about it!” I say because we always do.
“Deal!” the two of them say at the same time.
While Tito and Jace run to the liquor store, I arrange plates of appetizers.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask Tito when they come back.
Tito exhales in annoyance. “You ask me again, and I won’t talk to you anymore.”
I smile playfully. “Then you won’t have that one sweet person you can always come to unannounced when you need a drinking buddy.”
Tito’s lips hitch in a cocky smile. “I’ll just call Jace.”
“Oh, you traitor!”
Jace grins. God, he’s beautiful when he smiles.
And his choice of music is a surprise—disco.
“Old school, I like it,” Tito says with his mouth full of the Georgian cheese pastry he snatched from the kitchen.
We settle on the couch around the coffee table loaded with plates of appetizers and do a round of vodka shots, the way my mom has done with her friends for as long as I can remember.
“Lemon or pickles afterward. Or sauerkraut,” Tito explains to Jace. “It’s the way the Eastern Europeans drink.”
“I’ve trained you well, my friend,” I say to Tito.
