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Muttering under his breath, Holt grabbed two sodas and a bottle of water from the fridge, then chucked one of the cans at Larkin. It nailed him in the side, making Larkin let out a wheezing breath.
“The fuck, dude?”
“Don’t get soda on the couch,” Holt said snippily as he sat back down and handed me the other can.
“You’ve shook it all up now!”
“Then you’ll just have to wait to open it.” Holt unscrewed his bottle and took several deep gulps. I tried not to stare at the bob of his throat as he swallowed, my belly clenching.
Just as I was cracking open my can, a booming voice came over a microphone in the cavernous room below, making me jump out of my skin and spill some soda into my lap.
“Time to start taking your seats, folks!”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I was hurriedly setting my can down on the side table to try and use my sleeve to soak up the soda on my jeans.
“No problem.” Holt leaned over and grabbed a stack of napkins to hand to me.
I could feel him watching me as I dabbed at my crotch with them, and heat crept up my neck. When I looked over with a rueful smile, he quickly averted his eyes to look at the room below us, shifting on the couch to cross one long leg over the other. His foot bobbed restlessly.
He still looked tense. Suddenly, I felt even more like a sad loser than I usually did. He didn’t really want me here. I’d guilted him into inviting me, and now he had to sit up in his private box with the dork who looked like a sleep-deprived dad and had already spilled soda on his own crotch.
I swallowed and crumpled up the damp napkins in my fist. “Look, I can go—”
“Holt.” A loud, imperious voice rang out as the door to the private box was flung open.
My eyes widened as I looked back and saw an enormous, ridiculously muscular man sweep into the room. Seriously, I could count every single muscle group individually. He had a freaking eight-pack. And all he was wearing was an open baby pink silk robe that barely reached the tops of his tree-trunk thighs, and a pair of tiny pink bikini briefs in a shiny material that… clung.
Every inch of skin had been painted a pale, mossy green. He had the same pointed prosthetic ears as a lot of the others, and his long, lustrous black hair was shaved at the sides and tied back into a gorgeous fishtail braid.
A tiny, russet-furred Pomeranian was clasped in one giant hand, tucked against the side of his chest, its tongue lolling out as it panted merrily.
“I just want to reiterate again that I am not happy with the last-minute changes to the match line-up tonight,” the green giant said in a deep, smooth voice with perfectly clipped pronunciation. “You know the crowd is always ravenous to see me take on Frank and Beans.”
“Corey,” Holt grated, jumping up from the couch. “Now isn’t a good—”
“Who’s this?” Beefcake Corey was staring at me, so I hurriedly stood and clasped my hands together in front of my crotch to try to hide the soda stain.
“H-hi, I’m—”
“Taylor is just a friend,” Holt interrupted, trying to subtly get Larkin’s attention by jerking his head at Corey, but Larkin just stared back at him blankly before looking down at his phone. Corey was eyeing me up and down.
“Why is he still in his… Oh. Oh. He’s your friend for the night, is he?” With a dramatic sigh, he looked at Holt and shook his head. “Oh, honey. I know you like to get the strippers every now and then to help you… feel something, but I’m sure you could at least find a nice man you don’t need to pay just to sit with you in here.”
Holt’s grey cheeks flushed darker. “He’s not—”
“You have some nice qualities, sweetie. It’s not all bad.” Corey paused, seeming like he was trying to think of something. “You always dress nicely. Well, not always. You were wearing sweatpants earlier—”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Holt spoke over him loudly.
I tried to keep the disbelief off my face as I stared at Corey. This was him not ready? There was already pink hair tinsel threaded through his braid. Perfectly blended pink eyeshadow and impossibly long, thick lashes framed his jewel green eyes, somehow looking amazing against the moss-coloured body paint. Pink glitter was dusted all over his collarbone and chest.
“Hold on, I want to meet your ‘friend.’” Corey shot him an imperious look and stepped closer. His robe fell open a little more, revealing a pink tassel on his nipple.
Oh my god. This was the nipple tassel guy? It felt like I was meeting a celebrity.
“Hi, darling, I’m Corey. The Tasselled Tussler if you’re nasty,” he added with a coy smile, showcasing the two big tusks jutting up from his lower jaw. Tiny pink jewels were embedded in each one. He extended his hand—palm down, like a lady-in-waiting. “Charmed.”
I awkwardly grasped his fingers, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss the back of his hand. “I’m Taylor. Nice to meet you.” Letting go, I grinned at him. “Amazing costume. You’re an orc, right?”
