Page 27 of Crossing Lines

“Fuck no, I’m here to get laid.” Mason tore his hand free from mine.

“It’s easier to find a guy when you’re taken.” I released a sharp laugh. “Just sayin’.” I sauntered up to the bar with Mason on my left and Ace on my right, then perused the shots on the chalkboard behind the bar. “What are we starting off with tonight?”

“I say we go with the Fuck U of A tonight, even though we didn’t play them.” Ace pointed to the shot handwritten in neon green.

“Sounds good to me.” Mason’s smile widened. “BecauseFuck U of A!” He lifted his fist in the air and pumped it.

“Dude, don’t get in a fight tonight. Okay?” Patting Mason’s forearm, I looked around us. There could be U of A students up here for the weekend. The university was only about a two-hour drive south of here in Tucson.

“Naw, tonight I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Mason sniggered.

“You’re a moron. Every night, you’re a moron.” Ace grabbed Mason up in a bear hug and lifted him off the floor, then kissed his cheek. “But my favorite moron.”

Shaking my head, I snickered. “Damn, you two.” I flagged down a bare-chested bartender. We needed our drinks and fast.

He sauntered to us, and we ordered our shots along with beers for each of us.

“I’ve got this round.” Mason fished his wallet out of his pocket and slid out a credit card.

“That would mean we’re having more than one shot.” I watched the bartender set our drinks down, then grab Mason’s card. I didn’t want to get too shitfaced tonight. I had studying to do tomorrow.

“That’s exactly what it means.” Mason snatched his shot off the bar and held it up. “To the win and the Frozen Four.”

Ace and I grabbed our shots, tapped them on Mason’s, andwe all downed them. Fruity sweetness glided down my throat. I had no idea what was in this thing, but damn. One was enough.

As I set my empty shot glass on the bar, my gaze hit a dark head of hair at the corner of it. The dude looked like that Owen guy from behind. I narrowed my eyes at him. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to be back here. The guy was probably here cruising every weekend if he were queer. I mean, why wouldn’t he?

“What are you looking at?” Ace edged in beside me and looked toward the corner of the bar, sipping his beer.

The guy at the corner turned around, his gaze finding mine, then looked away.

Ticking my chin at him, I said, “That’s the guy Coach Gibson had a problem with.” I clenched my jaw as heat swirled my chest.

“Problem?” Ace cocked his head. “Shit, that’s the guy we both confronted the last time Coach was in here.”

“What’s going on?” Standing on his tip-toes, Mason glanced around the corner of the bar. “Is there someone who needs to be taught a lesson?” With a chortle, he peeked at me.

“No, no one is getting taught a lesson.” I huffed a laugh. We didn’t need Mason getting kicked out of the gay bar. Not so soon after getting here, anyway.

Ace faced me. “Did the guy do something fucked up to our coach?” He eyed me. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“What?” Mason stared at me, his mouth dropping open. “Who?”

Jesus, I hadn’t told these guys about my lunch with Coach Gibson. “Yeah, that guy down there, Owen, he sort of stalked Coach and he finally had to block him.” I scoffed. “Coach didn’t want to date him, and he wouldn’t listen. The dude even told me they were boyfriends when they weren’t.”

Both Ace and Mason swung their gazes to the corner of the bar.

Owen glanced at us, scowled, and then stomped off into the men milling about on the other side of the bar.

“Well, he knows we’re here.” I turned to the bar, planting my forearms on it and hanging my head. I was supposed to be forgetting about Gibson, not talking about him. I slugged down half my beer, then slapped Ace on the back. “Come on, let’s have that second shot.” I wagged my brows at Mason. I knew he’d be in.

“Oh, hell yes.” Mason bellied up to the bar.

An hour or so later,I stood at the bar, nursing my second beer while Ace and Mason were out grinding on guys on the dancefloor. None of the many hot men in this place had sparked my interest, not a single one. And it wasn’t like multiple men hadn’t come around looking for my attention. No, I was a sorry-ass motherfucker.

I tapped my fingers on my glass, then pursed my lips. Maybe I should go home. As I glanced at the door, a head of messy brown curls caught my attention. I peered at the man standing in front of the bouncer. A black crop top showed off his rippled abs and tight jeans formed around his perfect ass and muscled thighs. As my heart faltered, my eyes widened. “Holy shit. Ryan.” My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hard.

He stepped into the bar, his gaze sweeping across it and stopping on me. He dropped his jaw open, then pursed his lips, his chest expanding as if taking a deep inhale.

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