Page 3 of Light Me Up

"Gotta keep my girlish figure with all the good food you've been feeding us," he said, running his hands over his impossible washboard abs.

I had to roll my eyes to the ceiling to avoid following his hand down his torso. Seriously, who the fuck even looks like that? He's tall and lanky, but also somehow completely shredded. Every inch of his body is muscle, down to the ridiculously carved V that leads right down to his barely concealed-nope. Not going there.

He needs to put it away. And not bring it out again.

I can't even enjoy my morning coffee. I'm a meticulous guy. I have a routine. Every morning, I get up and go for a run, then come back and have a shower before I sit down and enjoy a quiet cup of coffee, scrolling through the news on my phone. It's how I mentally prepare for the day. But not today.No, I had to suffer through the distraction of watching Ian's back muscles flex through the butterfly stroke. Even worse, he caught me watching and fucking winked at meagain.

The summer hasn't even truly begun, and I'm already at my wit's end. Michael tried to talk me down, saying I'll get used to Ian's unrestrained personality, but I don'twantto get used to him. He even gave me the whole sob story about how he's got such a big personality because he's been ignored and caged in most of his life.

"I could understand why someone would want to put him in a cage," was my response to that.

Aside from putting me off my routine, the rest of the day has gone smoothly so far. Our Sunday regulars were happy to see Michael, and Ian managed to entertain them rather than chase them away. It helps that he has to wear clothes to work. Although if I have to overhear one more waitress mention his ass in those jeans, I might be looking at a staffing change.

It's towards the end of a long, but mostly pleasant, day. I'm sitting at the end of the bar, going through some ledgers, when Ian huddles down next to me. He's a little too close for comfort. I move away, but he leans further in, talking quietly against the shell of my ear in a way that sends gooseflesh down my spine.

"Look at that," he says, nudging his chin across the room.

I follow his line of sight to see Michael, leaning against the host stand, talking animatedly to a young woman. I can't make out her features from this angle. All I can see is her shoulder-length, mousy brown hair, light blue flowy blouse, and white shorts. She's cute, I can tell that much, and when she laughs at whatever Michael is saying to her, she throws back her head and laughs for real. He seems delighted to have entertained her so much, and there's a twinkle in his eye that I haven't seen since before.

"Who is that?" I ask, forgetting to be annoyed at Ian's proximity.

"Her name is Chloe. She went to school with us."

"Oh, really?" I’m the tiniest bit jealous that I don’t know anything about her.

"Yeah, I've been trying to talk him into getting the balls to ask her out."

I ignore the jab at Michael. "She seems interested."

He looks at me knowingly. "She totally is. He's just too busy being a fucking pussy—" He says the last few words loudly enough that anyone close by could hear. That's when I notice that Michael has walked up to us. He punches Ian in the shoulder before giving him the biggest, toothiest grin I think I've ever seen on him.

"I did it," he tells Ian.

"Hell yeah, man!" Ian says excitedly, patting my boy on the back.

"Aren't you going to ask what she said?" Michael asks, looking back and forth between me and Ian.

I shake my head, picking up my glass of iced tea to cover my smile.

Ian holds a hand to Michael's shoulder. "Mikey. My man. We don't have to ask, because we know. And you know what else I know?"

"What's that?" he asks, laughing.

"I know… that I fucking told you so." He taps Michael in the stomach, and they start play boxing like a pair of idiot kids. I can't help the grin on my face.

"Hey, Erin? Let's have a round of drinks for the bar, yeah?"

I stand up and clap both boys on the shoulder before heading back to the office. "Don't celebrate too hard, yeah? We've got real work in the morning."

I head back to my office to finish up my paperwork, and I spend a little while staring at the frame photograph of me and Michael when he was eight years old. It was taken the day I bought therestaurant from the original owner. Michael is sitting on my shoulders, hands raised to show off the sign behind us. He’s all grown up.

I'm surprised to see that both Michael and Ian have left by the time I come out of the office. I say goodnight to the closers for the evening, since they'll be here for another few hours.

It's a quick drive home, and all the lights are off when I arrive. It's only just now ten o'clock, so it's not very late at all by restaurant standards. But they both must have went to bed, because the house is quiet.

Or at least, I thought they’d both gone to bed.

The hallway bathroom door opens, and a cloud of steam follows Ian as he steps in to the hallway. I try to give him a friendly, casual nod and avert my eyes as I walk up the last two stairs, but I end up stopping dead in my tracks.

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