Page 2 of Safe
“You okay, man?” Amusement tilted the corners of Trevor’s mouth upward.
“Fuckin’ fantastic.” He shot back the same response Trevor had used and then threw back the new drink the waitress had just put in front of him and prayed the burn would wake him back up into reality. Reality where the man he fantasized about did not fantasize about him. He slammed the glass down a little too hard and watched Trevor’s lips twitch. “Why?”
“You were staring into space giggling.”
“I don’t giggle.”
His stone-faced denial made a full-fledged grin spread across Trevor’s handsome face, lighting him up, lighting up the entire corner booth, and making Cruz’s stupid, tequila-saturated heart slosh in his chest.
God, that smile did things to him. Things he didn’t like. Because if his dick was the only thing interested in Trevor, he’d be fine. He’d find a distraction. Nail a pretty young thing and move on. But his dick was sending messages to other muscles in his body, important ones, and he was too drunk not to smile back at the beautiful bastard.
“I don’t.”
“You do, actually.” Trevor smirked.
“You totally do.” A high-pitched feminine voice that reminded Cruz of nails on a chalkboard piped in, and his eyes flickered to the bimbo waitress all but falling into Trevor’s lap.
Big boobs, probably fake just like the color of her hair. Her roots were showing, and so was her desperation. He fought a growl, hating the green-eyed monster inside him that wanted to act like an overdramatic boyfriend and claw her eyes out for touching what he considered his.
Dammit. Women. He shuddered at the intrusion. Sometimes he could handle them. Sometimes they were what he preferred. Soft and sweet and delicate. But from the moment he’d shaken hands with Trevor, all he’d wanted was more of that firm grip, preferably around his cock. And he was just drunk enough to snarl at the waitress without thinking it through.
“Was anyone talking to you?”
Big blue eyes blinked at him in surprise. Huh. Blue. He hadn’t noticed that before. Maybe she really was a blonde. Not that he cared. He wanted a different blond. He wanted the gorgeous blond across the table with muscles and planes instead of curves.
“I thought…” The waitress opened her mouth, but a stern, masculine voice cut her off.
“Rodrigo.” He shivered when Trevor used his first name, his eyes darting back to Trevor in time to see those baby blues narrow on him, and oh, damn, that shouldn’t have made his cock twitch but it did. Stern Trevor always got to him. He had a thing for Bossy Trevor. It punched every one of his buttons when the older man ordered him around. “Apologize.”
He pouted instead of complying. “Why?”
“Because you’re being rude.”
He shrugged unapologetically. He was being a brat. He knew he was. A drunk, dramatic brat. But damn if he cared with tequila coursing through his veins and his cock wanting something it could never have. He stuck out his bottom lip for good measure.
Trevor chuckled, and another shiver ran down Cruz’s spine. There was a twinkle in those blue eyes, one he knew from experience was for him and him alone. Sometimes he thought it was simple amusement. Other times, interest. Right now, drunk and irritated, he wanted to believe it was a flirtation or at the very least recognition of Cruz’s bitchy behavior for what it was: jealousy. Whatever it was, the look his friend gave him made him all hot and bothered, made him wonder what kind of lover Trevor was for the millionth time.
Firm. Demanding. Bossy. Dominant. Cruz bit his bottom lip to quell a moan at the very thought. Blue eyes flickered to his mouth, and he couldn’t help wondering if Trevor’s eyes had gone there of their own accord or if he hadn’t actually managed to stifle his moan. Not that it mattered because whatever Trevor saw there, it iced his eyes like the flip of a switch.
Trevor’s lips pursed, and there was zero amusement in his voice when he spoke again, “Apologize to the lady for being rude.”
It was an order. Blatant. And as unapologetic as Cruz was, he shrugged in defeat.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s fine.” Nails began to climb Trevor’s arm, but Trevor pulled away from the woman before Cruz snapped again.
“It’s not okay. He’s drunk and he’s being rude.” Trevor pretended to look at a watch Cruz was fairly certain even in his alcohol-fueled state Trevor wasn’t wearing, “It’s late, and we should get upstairs anyway. Game tomorrow and all.”
Cruz blinked through his haze. Game tomorrow. They were drinking on a game night. Why had they gone to the bar again? He tried to remember, but everything other than the loss to the Sun Devils was cloudy with tequila.
Something about blowing off steam?
Hell, he couldn’t really remember anymore. They’d lost. Trevor had been in a mood. They’d gone to grab some dinner and drinks. Only they’d never ordered dinner. They’d filled up on booze instead and now the world was fuzzy and Trevor was mad at him and Cruz was too drunk to care if he was making a scene in front of their teammates.
“Sorry, guys. The kid can’t handle his liquor. Enjoy the rest of your night, and we’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.” Trevor apologized for the both of them, but there was steel in his voice when he motioned to Cruz. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Cruz squinted at Trevor as he stood. He wanted to tell him he wasn’t a kid and he could handle his liquor just fine, but really, it would only make the scene worse to argue with his captain. And he was drunk. Really drunk.
