Page 16 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
“Yeah, right.” Liam snorts. “Says the guy who’d rather spend all his free time fucking her instead of practicing.”
I raise a brow. “Disrespectful. I’m right here.”
“You want to talk disrespectful? I’m in the next fucking bed.” Liam lewdly cants his hips. “Oh, oh, oh, yes. Right there.”
“So wear headphones. Or, fuck one of your fan-club members.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Where do you think I am every night?” Liam grumbles.
Padraig’s mouth twitches like he wants to smirk but doesn’t quite get there. It’s one of the many things I love about him. He lets me fight my own battles. Even with his twin.
“Maybe you should choose more wisely.” Padraig palms my thigh.
“Oh, I’m picky.” Liam stands in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair.
“Yeah, right. For someone so picky, is there anyone youhaven’tfucked on campus?” I roll my eyes.
He throws a sock at me. “You wound me, Hayes.”
“You’ll live.” I pull on one of Padraig’s sweatshirts and hop off the bed. “I’m only pointing out your reputation’s practically mythic at this point.”
Liam shrugs into a denim jacket. “It’s college. I’m exploring. Maybe the two of you should try it sometime.”
“Don’t be an ass.” Padraig laces up his boots. “Let’s go. You might actually enjoy yourself.”
“Doubt it,” Liam drones, sliding on a black beanie.
I take point, leading them down the narrow stairwell of the dorm. The party’s ten blocks off-campus, in a rickety rental. It probably used to be a frat house before it got excommunicated.
Padraig grips my hand as we approach the house. “Thanks for arranging this.”
“No worries. Rumor has it, the lead guitarist once opened for Modest Mouse,” I offer helpfully.
It’s enough to get Liam’s interest, even if he pretends otherwise, as evidenced by how quickly he bounds up the steps to the front door.
The porch sags under the weight of us. Inside it’s like a dive bar. Sticky floors. Thrift-store couches shoved against the walls. Strands of dying Christmas lights cast everything in a weirdly colorful haze. Someone set up the amps in the corner and cables snake along the ground through half-crushed beer cans and a piles of discarded pizza boxes.
Bass pulses through the floorboards like a second heartbeat. Bodies cram into every corner. Dudes wearing thrifted leather and scuffed boots. Women in low-cut tops and glitter eyeshadow. It smells horrible. Like weed mixed with sour beer and body odor.
A beach ball bounces off Liam’s shoulder. He doesn’t flinch.
Padraig grins and slings his arm casually around my back. His fingers brush my waist. “You sure this isn’t a rave?”
“Wrong kind of bassline.” I lean up for a kiss.
He cups my face and plants one on me in the middle of a room full of strangers. I melt against his chest, content and happy.
It’s funny. Even in a new environment, I’m always comfortable when I’m with the two people I’m closest to in the world. Bailey once asked me how I ever chose Padraig over Liam. Which is funny to me. Obviously, I love them both deeply. Liam burns hot and fast. Even as a kid, he was sharp edges and swagger. Dangerous. Unpredictable.
Padraig, on the other hand, hasalwaysbeen mine, Quieter. Steadier. Persistent. Safe. Our friendship morphed slowly from childhood playmates to best friends.
“For someone who didn’t want to come, he’s diving right in.” Padraig gestures to Liam, who’s in front of the makeshift stage where a girl with ink-black hair is yowling into a mic.
Her voice is scratchy in a way people mistake for edgy. It works, though. The guitarist’s decent. Drummer’s loud and showy, all biceps. Padraig and I hover at the edge of the room. He analyzes the band with the same hyper-focused intensity he uses to ace his exams. Or, figure out song structures.
“They’re decent.” Padraig rubs his chin.
I nod. “They’ve got a look.”
