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He drops back into his chair a few minutes later and grabs some fries from the basket sitting in front of him as Jeremy and Preston come in and sit across from us. Preston is sporting an arm sling since he dislocated his shoulder about two weeks ago.
“Started without me, huh?” Jeremy ribs me, grabbing fries from the basket, and signals for a beer. Preston sighs but doesn’t say what we all know he wants to.
There’s a tension between Brendon and Jeremy, but Preston looks like the cat who caught the canary. My gaze flits between them, and I can’t quite figure out what is going on.
“All right, out with it,” I demand. Preston’s lips lift in a slow, knowing smile while Brendon’s face turns red, and Jeremy chokes on his water.
“What?” Jeremy coughs. I turn and stare at Brendon, waiting for him to break. It won’t take long. About sixty seconds later, Brendon slams his hands down on the table and exclaims. “I walked in on them fucking, and I’m going to have nightmares.”
Preston laughs and wraps a hand around Jeremy’s thigh, pulling him closer. Jeremy’s face pales, then turns pink while Brendon stares at nothing.
“I’m a little afraid to ask what you actually saw . . .” I look between the three of them, and Preston’s smug expression makes me a little nervous.
Brendon finally turns and looks at me. “We’ve all seen the marks, but watching how he gets them is a little scary. Preston is not nice.”
The waitress puts my beer down in front of me and brushes her hand against my arm. When I look up at her, she gives me a shy smile, and I tell her thanks. I’m not interested, but maybe I should give it a shot. No one but me has touched my dick in way too long.
The noise around us rises as Carpenter comes in, and the team cheers him on with drinks in the air. He smiles and bows dramatically before taking a seat.
One of the guys from the team last year slaps him on the shoulder and puts a drink in front of him. “First one’s on me.”
Our team captain takes it and lifts it to the team. “Thanks. I’m damn proud of you guys.”
Brendon and Jeremy are trying too hard to be normal but won’t actually look at each other, which I now find hilarious. Brendon’s red hair is rumpled like he’s been running his hands through it, and it makes my palm itch to do the same. I love Jeremy like a brother, but I’m kind of afraid of his sex life.
Brendon tries to grab my plate, but I slap his hand and move it out of his reach.
“Touch my food and lose a hand.” I glare at him, but he laughs, some of the rough edges smoothing out.
“I’m hungry. Feed me, Daddy.” He opens his mouth like a baby bird, and I pick up a fry to shove in his mouth. It goes too far, and he chokes but laughs along with the guys around us who heard him. “Dick.”
“Get your own damn food,” I say around a mouthful of my burger.
He huffs but flags down a waitress to put in a burger order, and Jeremy does as well. Preston gets a chicken salad and water because, of course he does. Brendon continues to eye my food, but I’m not sharing. I’m starving.
We all chat and eat while we sit around the bar. Brendon puts his arm around the back of my chair like he usually does. He’s a toucher, and over the last few months of living together, I’ve gotten so used to it that I miss it when I don’t have it. It’s also why I can’t fucking get over him. He’s in my space all the time, so fucking close, touching me, but I can’t have him. Not really. Not the way I crave.
Since Jeremy got with Preston and is no longer hooking up with Brendon, he’s been making out with a lot of sorority girls from what I’ve seen, but I’m not sure if he’s actually having sex with them or not.
A few hours later, Brendon is sulking into his beer, tossing back shots here and there, while some girl is attempting to flirt with him. He’s not stumbling drunk, but he’s on his way. If he doesn’t slow down, he’ll be there in an hour or so.
I order him a basket of fries to help soak up the liquor and tell the waitress to put it in front of him.
He’s not great at taking care of himself. So sometimes I have to do it for him. I like doing it.
As I lift my beer to my lips, I see the woman slide a hand on his thigh, and I want to rip it off. I have no claim to him, but tomorrow when he feels like shit with a hangover, he’ll climb into my bed and lay his head on my shoulder. He’ll let me take care of him, get his food, water, and meds, then demand I lie in bed all day with him. But he won’t kiss me. The man who has come to mean more to me than anyone else wants intimacy, but not sex. I can care for him, about him, but I can’t be in love with him.
She shakes her head and giggles, which grates on my nerves. She’s beautiful, though. Curly blonde hair that hangs past her shoulders, a sweet face with plush lips, and obviously isn’t afraid to make moves. That confidence will get you everywhere.
The waitress drops the fries in front of him and walks off without a word.
“Did you order me food?” He leans closer to the woman with that sexy smile on his face that I want directed at me.
“I did,” I snap before she has a chance to say anything.
Brendon’s eyes meet mine, and the smile changes to his normal dopey one.
“Aw, thanks, buddy.” He kisses my cheek and wraps an arm around my neck. “I knew you loved me.”
