Page 46 of Bassist With Benefits
“What’s with you two anyway?” Derek eyed Alan and Jeremy. “Just punch each other in the face already. Get it over with.”
A surprised laugh escaped Alan’s throat, and he challenged Jeremy with a raised brow and tilt of his chin.
Jeremy slowly cracked a smile. “Don’t even think about taking another swing at me, bruh. I’ll kick your ass this time.”
Their smiles deflated as their eyes locked, and they silently shared the pain and yearning to be together. It took Alan’s breath away, and his body melted into his seat. “Let’s go back to our room so we can talk.”
Jeremy nodded.
“Where are you going?” Derek asked. “Now you got shit you can’t talk about in front of us?”
“That’s fucked up,” Brandon agreed. “Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”
Alan stared at Jeremy, hoping his friend would supply an answer, and he did.
“Everyone needs a little privacy sometimes, Bran.”
Cam returned to the suite just as Alan and Jeremy were leaving. “Don’t forget we’re supposed to be on the bus in an hour,” Cam called after them.
Alan snorted a laugh. “Cam is starting to sound like Felix.”
“God help us.”
As Alan walked the few yards back to the suite with Jeremy, he contemplated how much his friend meant to him, and he knew he needed to make a hard decision. Hard, because moving forward with their relationship, which was really the only decision to make, could quite possibly be the demise of their friendship. He’d have to risk everything in his life that mattered and leave destiny in fate’s hand. And everyone knew that fate could be a real fucking bitch sometimes. Every time he thought about it, fear gripped him in the throat and cut off his air. He couldn’t imagine not having Jeremy in his life.
As they neared the door to their suite, Alan noticed a large bottle of Jack Daniels with a big red bow tied to the neck sitting on the floor in front of their suite. It was Green Label, only available in select states, mostly in the Northeast, so it was a nice surprise. “What’s this?” Alan picked up the bottle and admired it before he read the small card attached to it. “To Jeremy, the best bass player to ever grace our hotel. Enjoy this select bottle of bourbon. Regards, Avery Powers, Head of Hospitality.”
“I guess I have a fan.” Jeremy took the bottle with a greedy hand. “Nice. I had a conversation with the guy about this. I can’t believe he got his hands on Green Label. Cool. Want a shot?”
“Sure.”
Once inside their suite, Jeremy poured a nice splash of Jack Daniels into two glasses and handed one to Alan. “What should we toast to?”
Alan stared into the amber liquid, hoping to find something to say that would embody the connection that he and Jeremy shared. “How about we drink to friendship?” Alan’s eyes pleaded with Jeremy.
“To friendship,” Jeremy repeated.
The special edition bourbon was smoother than the original, and Alan licked his lips. “I wish a fan would give me a two-liter bottle of Green Label Jack.”
“Don’t be jealous.”
Alan wondered if Jeremy was teasing or not, because the guy had a straight face. He also wondered if Jeremy meant jealous of the gift or jealous that a fan had given it to him. “I get plenty of gifts,” Alan replied.
“Yeah, but herpes is a gift you can’t give back.”
Alan laughed, relieving the tension that knotted his shoulders together. “It wasn’t herpes. It was a rash.”
“If that’s what you want to call it, I’m not gonna argue about it.”
The smile widened on Alan’s face. He was so fucking enamored with the gorgeous, taunting man in front of him that he just wanted to kiss him. He didn’t care that they were supposed to be on a break or that he was supposed to be figuring out what their relationship meant or where it was going. He dropped his glass on the table, unsure if it landed right side up or rolled to the floor, and pushed his fingers through Jeremy’s long dark hair.
Jeremy stared back at Alan. There was fire burning behind his eyes, and it was clear that he was waiting for Alan’s next move. No pressure, just pure longing spilling from every emotional wrinkle punctuating Jeremy’s forehead.
Alan’s lips hit Jeremy’s with a hot burst of passion. The slight taste of bourbon still graced his friend’s palate, and he drove his tongue deeper to steal some of the flavor. He inhaled a long breath, filling his nostrils with Jeremy’s scent. One hand cradled the back of Jeremy’s head, lost in the long dark tresses. The other hand pressed into the center of Jeremy’s lower back and held their bodies together.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispered against Alan’s lips.
“For what?”
