Page 1 of Poolside

PROLOGUE

JUNE 2017

Chuck McCormac was the perfect amount of buzzed as he led his friend Tommy through the crowd at The Grove. Their local outdoor bar was packed with people, and it took longer than usual to reach the bathrooms.

He pulled open the door and nudged Tommy through with a firm hand on his back. His fingers lingered for just a second too long, brushing against the crisp cotton of Tommy’s pale blue button-up. A little fleck of blue paint in the corner of Chuck’s thumb nail caught his attention—shit. He’d deal with that later.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

Tommy walked up to the wide mirror, tilting his chin down while frowning at his reflection. He patted the flattened brown hair that had to be held down by something stronger than the pomade he usually styled it with.

Chuck came up beside him, his arm brushing against his shorter friend’s shoulder. Shaking his head, he tried to imagine the time and effort Tommy must have put into getting his hair to lay back like that.

Tommy’s hair didn’t lookawful. It was just long enough up top to cooperate with the slicked back style, but it didn’t match the rest of what Tommy had going on. It didn’t work with the deep laugh lines at the corners of his hazel brown eyes or the classically handsome structure of his face. It didn’t work with the hint of chestnut stubble that gave off the illusion of roughness even though he knew that Tommy was a man who trended toward refinement. It didn’t fit with the playful, easy smile that was a constant on his face.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Chuck reached a hand up and ran his fingers over the completely crisped strands. “But you’re giving me greased-up Jersey mobster.”

“Fuck, man.” Tommy studied himself in the mirror, scrunching his nose and turning his head from side to side. “How does Keaton pull it off?”

Chuck snorted a laugh. Tommy was the kind of guy who moved through the world like he owned it, so it was always endearing to see a glimpse of insecurity under the bravado. “Keaton is the textbook definition of Southern, old family wealth. Just be yourself, T. You’re perfect the way you are.”

Chuck swallowed. It was the truth—Tommy was, in his mind, as perfect as a man could be, but that didn’t mean it was the thing he should throw out there on a Saturday night in a bar bathroom.

Brown eyes met his in the mirror. There was a vulnerability there on Tommy’s face, like maybe the man in tailored suits with a well-paying job didn’t know he was perfect. But then his expression shifted, his mouth twisting into a teasing smile as his chestnut-brown brows arched. “So you think I should lean into it? The sad divorcé thing?”

“Seems like you’ve already committed to it,” Chuck teased. “Lean forward,” he instructed, softly cuffing the back of his neck. Tommy obeyed, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink. Turning on the tap, Chuck cupped his hands and scooped up handfuls of warm water onto Tommy’s head. Carefully, he started to loosen the product, running his fingers through the thick hair.

For a moment it was quiet between them as some 80’s ballad scratched over the speakers.

“I thought I was good at it, you know?”

Chuck looked down at Tommy’s slumped shoulders. “At what?”

“At loving her.”

Chuck’s heart sank. It had been a year since Courtney had left him, and for some reason Tommy just couldn’t move on. Chuck had never been married and had almost no experience with long-term relationships, but even he could tell that Tommy’s fixation on his past marriage wasn’t doing him any favors.

Tommy was a good man. One of the best. Sure, he was a workaholic who had a tendency to showboat in new social settings, but he was loyal and consistent and, sometimes, when it was just the two of them, Tommy was softer. A little bit sweeter. Chuck cherished every second he got to spend in Tommy’s company.

He just wanted to see him find his groove again.

“You’ve gotta move on, T. She’s moved on, and it’s time for you to do the same. For your own sake.” The product was mostly rinsed out, leaving only soft, damp hair between his fingertips.It’s so soft, he caught himself noticing. “Alright, shake your hair out a bit.”

Tommy shook his head from side to side before starting to swing it around in circles. Without stopping his wild head swings, he put his hands on his knees and started popping his ass out like he was dancing.

Chuck started to laugh, reaching a hand out and grabbing Tommy’s arm to stop him. “You’re going to eat shit if you keep that up.”

Tommy straightened, stumbling a bit before bracing himself against the sink, his exposed forearms tan under a smattering of dark hairs. He looked up at Chuck with another glimpse of that vulnerability Chuck wasn’t used to seeing from him. “I’m over it,” he said quietly. “I swear I am. Courtney’s settled in her new place in Boston. She’s happy to be closer to her family. We’ve texted. Things are as fine as they can be.” He exhaled, training his gaze up toward the ceiling like he was gathering himself. “It’s just nights like tonight, you know? Seeing everyone with their people. Seeing David so fucking happy. It just makes me miss havingsomebody, you know?”

Chuck swallowed against the familiar ache of loneliness. He thought about their friend David and his new girlfriend, Sage. Chuck had spent enough time with the new couple to see that what they had together was special. The start of the kind of relationship Chuck craved, but didn’t think he’d ever have. Catching Tommy’s eye again, he nodded. “I know.”

Just then the song changed, the opening lines of guitar sending a delighted laugh bubbling from Chuck’s lips.

Tommy’s face transformed into a smile so wide the deep laugh lines that carved into his golden cheeks and radiated out from his eyes made an appearance.

Just like they’d done a million times in the fifteen years they’d known each other, Chuck and Tommy started dancing. Chuck swayed his head back and forth and shimmied his shoulders as he lifted an imaginary microphone up to his mouth.

Stacy, can I come over after school?He sang, without holding anything back.

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