Payne: Bottle.
Griffin: Now are you going to admit you like the guy?
Payne: I … WHY ISNT HE HIME?
Art: For someone who owns a brewery, I have a very low tolerance for drunk people.
Payne: Shit I think that’s him, what do I do?
Orson: I suggest you don’t demand to know where he’s been.
Griffin: Especially because you probably won’t like the answer.
19
Payne
It’s close to midnight when there’s finally noise in the hall outside. I’ve been turning my decision not to call Beau over and over in my head, questioning whether I actually made the right choice.
I wanted to be his knight in shining armor, but I also know that Beau is going to keep getting himself into these situations unless he can learn to say no.
I’ve been expecting him for hours. Hoping he’ll balls up and tell Lee to go fuck himself, then come back here and get drunk with me.
But nothing.
Until now.
I jump up and have to hold back from running to the door. Beau’s probably going to be pissed at me, which is fine, because the alternative would be that their date turned around, and I don’t want that either.
I give them a second or two outside, not at all being creepy and listening to the muffled voices, and when there’s a pause, I cross from the kitchen to the front door and yank it open. Beau topples backward, and I barely manage to catch him in time.
“What the hell?” I might be tipsy, but apparently my reflexes are still spot-on.
I look from Beau in my arms to where Lee is standing, arms extended, and take in their wet lips.
Were they … kissing?
I almost crack a molar.
“Good night, was it?” I help Beau back to his feet and whirl on Lee. “I’ve got him from here. Thanks, buddy.” Then I close the door in his face.
When I turn back to Beau, for the first time since I’ve known him, his eyes flash with anger.
“Excuse me?” He shoves me aside and pulls open the door. “Sorry about that.”
Lee’s stare flicks to me over Beau’s shoulder. “It isn’t your fault your roommate has issues.”
Beau starts to say something when it cuts off as Lee leans in for a kiss.
My gut churns as I anticipate it happening, but Beau turns his head at the last moment, and Lee connects with his cheek.
And takes entirely too long to pull away.
“Done yet?” I growl.
Beau pulls away from Lee and smiles. “I’ll text you.”
And as Beau turns back to me, Lee shoots me a victorious look over his head. Fucker.
“K, bye.” I swing the door closed again, and this time, Beau doesn’t reopen it.
“What the hell was that?”
“Welcome home, sweetheart.”
“Payne.”
“Bo-Bo.”
He plants his hands on his hips. “Don’t Bo-Bo me! You slammed the door in his face. That’s just rude.”
“And here I was waiting for gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” His voice pitches high. “What the hell for?”
“Well, clearly the date turned around. If I’d called with an emergency, you never would have had the opportunity to find out how Lee’s dinner tasted.”
Beau scowls, goes to reply, and then … stops. “You’re right. Thank you.”
That’s unexpected. “Ah … sure.”
“I’m glad you didn’t call.” Beau leads the way into the kitchen. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
“Good for him.”
“And he’s a great kisser.”
I huff. “What, like it’s hard?”
“Well …” He pins me with his gaze. “Some people are too sloppy.”
“That better not have been directed at me.”
“I didn’t mention you.” Beau blinks at me innocently. “Guilty conscience?”
“We both know I can kiss.”
“Right.” He pats my arm as he steps around me. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“The fuck …” I follow him down the hall to his room, where Beau strips off, unconcerned about me standing there watching him.
“I’m about to be naked any minute now …”
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“All …” Relaxed. Playful. Oh, fuck. “You guys hooked up, didn’t you?”
“Wow. Judgy much?”
“Did you?”
He whirls on me, shirt open, belt hanging loose, and stalks closer. “What’s it to you?”
“I … well …”
He cocks his head. “Careful, Payne. Someone sounds jealous.”
“And someone is avoiding answering the question.” Two can play at his game. I step forward, leaning into his space. “Afraid to tell me you sucked his cock?”
“Is it any of your business?” Beau presses forward, his chest against mine, and walks me backward until I’m in the hall. “Great talking with you, but if you don’t mind, I’m beat.”
He doesn’t make a move to step back though.
And neither do I.
We stand there, gazes locked, his body warmth seeping into my shirt and his bodywash filling my nose. He isn’t fidgeting. The calmness throws me. Hollows out my stomach as I think of the reason he might be so calm, the reason he’s meeting my eyes head-on. Lee. Lee’s hands on him. Lee’s mouth. His tongue.
My gaze drops. Beau’s lips are wet. Can he still taste him?
I want to find out.
If I lean down and kiss him, will he let me? Or has the crush run its course?
I inch closer. Lips tingling. Nose almost touching his.
Beau sucks in a breath that brushes my skin, and I want to ask him to do it again. To catch it with my mouth this time.
But I can’t.
No matter how foggy with alcohol I am, no matter how confused I might be, no matter how much I might hate Lee, I’m not a selfish person.
And kissing Beau right now, as hot as it would be, would be beyond selfish.
I can’t hurt him.
So instead of closing the few inches between our lips, I say, “I thought you were going to bed.”
His nose brushes mine. “Join me.”
“Beau …”
The tip of his tongue darts out and swipes my lip. “It’s okay. No feelings.”
And him saying that at all proves it’s bullshit.
“No.”
Beau jerks back, and the hurt that flashes across his face gets me right in the chest. He eyes me for a moment, then turns around, stalks into his room, and slams the door behind him.
If I’m hoping the next morning that everything will be forgotten about like it was last weekend, I’m very, very wrong. The moment I walk into the kitchen, Beau walks out of it without even a good-morning.
Well, fuck me. I knew I was going to screw this up at some point.
My head is too dusty to deal with this shit.
I make a coffee, then go and join him in the living room. “Can I sit?” I ask, nodding to the place next to him on the couch.
His feet bounce, so he definitely heard me, but his lack of answer doesn’t seem good.
I sit anyway, keeping more distance between us than I normally would. “I’m sorry.”