Page 29 of College Town

He backs up, mouth open, tongue out, and collides with the edge of the chest cooler. “Shit!” he laughs. The chip pings off his forehead and gets lost in the holes of the rubber mat behind the cappuccino maker.

“Dude!” Melissa calls, laughing, hands thrown up in overdramatic disappointment. “That was right to you?”

“No, no, flag on the play, that was overthrown, ref,” he says, turning to Jen for appeal.

She peers at them through the open doorway that leads into the kitchen and then nods at the register. “You have a customer.”

“Ah, shit.” Lawson smooths his apron, adjusts his visor, and slots himself in place. “Hi, welcome to Coffee Town, home of the…oh fuck.”

Noah Cattaneo glares at him and says, politely, “Hi, Lawson. Good to see you again.”

Noah was rangy as a colt the last time Lawson saw him, much as he himself had been. Mile-long legs, big knees and elbows. The features that were refined and, daresay, pretty on Tommy were harsher on Noah. A good-looking guy, to be sure, just not Lawson’s preferred guy.

Twenty years hasn’t changed that, but Noah’s grown into his looks, and then some. Lawson grew into his height, but Noah is fuckingjacked. Like Tommy yesterday, he wears a very expensive, very tailored suit, the sleeves of which bunch and stretch tight over massive biceps. He’s grown up handsome – movie star handsome – with his dark hair gelled neatly back, and his strong, square jaw, and his eyes – dark like Tommy’s, but angled, narrow, harsher. He’s a hairsbreadth taller than Lawson, and bowed up to take advantage of the fact.

He's gonna hit me, Lawson thinks, mouth dry, muscles locked up.And I’m gonna sit here and let it happen. Holy shit.

Melissa leans into his side and stage whispers, “Law, who’s your hot friend?”

Noah doesn’t react to her, gaze boring darkly into Lawson’s.

Lawson swallows a few times, throat sticking, and then says, voice breaking like a damn teenager’s, “Hi – um, hi, Noah. Long time no see. You want…” He jabs a finger at the chalkboard mounted behind him. “Coffee?”

“Tall. Black. Meet me over there when it’s ready.” He points to a window table, tilts his head meaningfully, and then goes to sit down.

“Fuck,” Lawson mutters.

Melissa leans in closer, her elbow digging into his ribs. “Isthatthe guy your mom wants to set you up with?”

“No.”

“Can you setmeup with him?”

“Absolutely not. He’s an asshole.”

“But he’shot.”

“Hot isn’t everything,” he says, as he turns to make Noah’s coffee.

13

They might have dubbed themselves the Fantastic Four, and they did spend hours and hours all four of them together: at Stardust, at Lawson’s house, or Dana’s house. At the park, first watching, then attempting to skate themselves, and failing, pretty spectacularly on most occasions, skinned knees and busted tailbones soothed with laughter and Mountain Dew from the vending machine. But they spent plenty of time in pairs, too.

Lawson and Dana, the OGs, the Dynamic Duo. But as Lawson spent more and more time with Tommy – fingers linking sneakily as they walked home at dusk, lips meeting, and pressing, tongues flicking shyly, hearts knocking hard against one another – Dana spent more and more time with Noah.

“You don’t think they’re, like, doing it, do you?” Lawson asked one Saturday, late afternoon sun lying in fat bars across the bed where he lay flat against the coverlet.

Tommy’s mouth left Lawson’s throat with a wet, sucking sound that zipped straight down his spine and wrapped tight around his cock. Tommy sat up, pink-cheeked, hair tousled. His shirt was off, and his blush went all the way down his chest. “What?” He frowned, gaze glassy and unfocused. “Who?”

“Dana and Noah. Do you think they’re…” He lifted a hand off Tommy’s hip to gesture.

Tommy stared at him a moment, lips shiny and spit-slick, then snorted. Rolled his eyes. “Are they having sex, you mean?”

Lawson was already flushed, but he felt his face heat another few degrees. “Yeah.”

“You can do it but you can’t say it?”

Make that another few dozen degrees. Lawson squawked and, and waved his hands, and said, “Well, I mean, technically, we’re not…doing itdoing it, I mean…”

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