Page 31 of Rum and Rendezvous

“Yeah, exactly. He didn’t—”

“No. Leave him alone.” Carly narrowed his eyes dangerously, daring me to defy him.

I crossed my arms and sunk back into my chair, sulking. How could he? It felt like he was lying to me—cheating on me? No, that was ridiculous. But if you made a date with a stranger, shouldn’t you inform your coach? Ignoring Carlisle’s warning, I threw buttered kernels of popcorn at Ryan, pegging his shoulder and cheek. He turned around and glared, ready to rip my head off, and I smirked. His face, which transformed from outraged to incredulous, satisfied me immensely.

But instead of explaining or apologizing, he waved at my brother and turned back around, focusing on the movie and, to my great irritation, his date. When the leading characters on the screen kissed, Ryan’s date slid his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and leaned in closer.What the fuck?What kind of Grindr date was this? This guy was acting like the real deal, like he actually liked Ryan instead of merely trying to bed him in an hour and then ditch him.

I threw another kernel at him, and he turned to glare as I shrugged. I was prepared to fuck with him all night if it meant keeping his date’s hands off him until I could properly vet the guy.

The closing credits rolled across the screen, and the dim lights brightened. Ryan’s date ushered him from the theater, and I followed Carly out of our row, trying to keep them in my line of sight. I spotted them crossing the parking lot, hand in hand, Ryan gazing into the guy’s decent looking face. Jealousy burned through me, hot and swift, as I watched his date open the door for Ryan, treating him like the perfect gentleman he was.

It was nothing less than he deserved and everything I wanted for him. So why was I feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut?

15

RYAN

“Do you want water or soda?”I ducked my head into the fridge, checking our options. When I stood, holding a bottle of water, Dennis was standing in the doorway, looking gorgeous and available and…interested.

“Do you have anything stronger?”

His sexy smile almost distracted me from his hand sliding into his shirt, rubbing his flat stomach. The glimpse of his toned and tanned abs made my mouth go dry. All I had to do was take three little steps forward, lean into him and he would do the rest. Slide his arm around my waist and pull me in close, wrap his hand around the back of my neck and tickle the fine hairs with his thumb as he kissed me like Cary did when…

My heart somersaulted in my chest, and I reached out to brace myself against the counter for support. I had to stop thinking about him like that. Had he followed me to the movie? No, it had to be a coincidence, there was no way he could have known I’d be there. Dennis was easy to talk to, easy to look at, but I wanted to answer everything he said with a story about me and Cary. The more I tried not to think about him, the more obsessed I became.

“Wine, maybe?” He let his shirt drop and came closer, making my heart pound harder.

“Sure.” I turned back to the fridge for the bottle of merlot I’d opened last night and felt his hands grip my hips. He had to be checking out my ass as I bent over.

“I really like this shirt, but it might look better on the floor.” He tugged it from the waistband of my pants and slipped his smooth hands inside, caressing my skin.

Nobody likes this shirt. Carson said I’d most likely worn it in my third-grade class photo. He said it made me look boring and dulled the sparkle of my eyes. He was probably right. He was always right. Which meant Dennis was lying to get into my pants. He didn’t notice or appreciate my eyes. What if he didn’t even call me back tomorrow? I shouldn’t care. If I were smart, I’d let him screw me in hopes it reset my head. Yet, I continued to hesitate, pretending like I couldn’t remember where I stored my wine glasses.

“I’m suddenly thirsty for more than just wine.” He tugged me out of the kitchen.

Just before we tumbled to the couch, my doorbell rang. “Sorry, hold on.” It was probably my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Beasley, asking for eggs or sugar, but I was grateful for the interruption. I opened the door with a smile that quickly died when I saw my visitor.

“Hey, Boytoy. You busy?”

Carson stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. Which he should! Who shows up at ten o’clock at night to chat? He could have called or texted me instead.

“Yeah. I have company.” Carson peered over my shoulder and frowned when he spotted Dennis sprawled on my couch, sans shirt.

“I see.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “I guess he beat me to it.”

“Beat you to what?”

“Nothing. Go back to your date. Enjoy your evening.” He reached out, closing the open buttons at my throat. “What did I tell you about that shirt?” His smile, sly and playful, tugged at my heart. “It’s almost like you wanted to make a bad impression.”

He leaned in, and I was convinced he was going to kiss me. Like a fool, I closed my eyes and tilted my head, waiting for his lips to brush mine. But he disappointed me by placing a soft kiss on my cheek instead.

“Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later,” he whispered softly in my ear.

Carson looked sad as he pulled away, throwing one last glance in my direction as he retreated down the hall. I closed the door and leaned against it, trying to clear my head and convince myself not to go after him. But like Dennis, Carson wasn’t going to call me tomorrow either. Or he would, but he’d pretend nothing happened, and we were just buddies. Friends who sometimes fucked when we felt lonely or horny.

I wanted more.

I wanted to matter.

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