Page 63 of Spilled Coffee

Ethan’s brows furrowed. “You think that’s what might’ve happened?” He shook his head as if trying to shake loose the possibility. “Shit… I didn’t even consider that.” He paused for a beat before adding, “I did feel kinda weird. Hell, it’s a good thing you were there or who knows what could’ve gone down.”

Devon’s grin widened—a fox who’d just been let into the henhouse. “Well… if you hadn’t been so trashed, even I might’ve taken advantage.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “But you already know that, right?”

Ethan flushed, not just in embarrassment, but in something far more complicated. Awkwardness clawed at his chest as the heat continued up his neck and settled uncomfortably on his face. He glanced up instinctively and froze.

Logan was watching. His gaze firmly locked on them and while his expression remained unreadable on the surface, there was no mistaking the intensity behind it.

“Uh-oh,” Ethan mumbled under his breath as nerves coiled tighter in his stomach. “Looks like the boss is watching.”

Devon twisted in his seat to follow Ethan’s gaze and immediately spotted Logan’s stare boring into him like a laser. Instead of backing off, he smirked cockily and raised his glass in an exaggerated toast before taking a sip.

Without missing a beat, he leaned even closer—close enough now that Ethan could feel the brush of warm breath against his ear. “Hey,” he murmured smoothly, “wanna ditch this place and go somewhere less public?”

Ethan’s mind raced as his heart thudded heavily against his ribs. Conflicting emotions warred within him: part of him wanted to stay where Logan could see them—where Loganhadto see them—and hope jealousy would do its work, while another part recoiled at how this whole situation was spiraling out of control.

“Uh…” he stalled, then cast another glance at Logan. “Let’s stay here awhile longer.” He managed an uneasy smile. “You cool with that?”

“Sure.” Devon gave an exaggerated shrug, then as he leaned back in his chair, one hand disappeared beneath the table and landed squarely on Ethan’s thigh.

It was bold—too fucking bold—especially with Logan watching from across the room like some silent sentinel perched atop stormy seas. Ethan tensed. The weight of Devon’s palm felt far too intimate, too possessive, and decidedly unwelcome given everything swirling around inside him.

“How about darts?” He blurted out. Anything to shift this increasingly uncomfortable dynamic into safer territory where hands stayed on darts instead of thighs.

“Okay, sure,” Devon said, amusement dancing behind his grin—the kind that said he knew exactly what game Ethan was playing, but wasn’t above indulging him.

As they stood, Devon’s hands found their way onto Ethan again, this time settling on his shoulders. “Relax,” he whispered,his lips brushing devilishly near his skin. “No one’s watching. They’re all too busy wrapped up in their own shit.”

Ethan knew better, but forced a nod as Devon sauntered to the dartboard. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter seemed to be overtaken by the rapid pounding of his own heart. He shifted his weight, trying to act as though Devon’s presence didn’t unnerve him.

“So, Ethan,” Devon called over, his smirk almost as sharp as the darts he was holding. “How’s it going between you and Logan? You gone all the way yet?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge beneath it—a challenge wrapped up in the humor.

Ethan’s stomach twisted violently. He felt heat rush to his face. “Uh…” He glanced around, paranoid someone might overhear this very public dissection of his private life. “Not good,” he admitted, coughing to mask the blush creeping across his cheeks. “We... you know, the other night.” He stumbled over the words as if saying them aloud made them more real. “But now he’s gone all cold. Don’t think he wants it to happen again.” His shoulders slumped as he shrugged, deflated.

“That’s Logan for you,” Devon let out a low whistle as he lined up another dart. “Leads you on, takes what he wants, then bails cause he can’t handle it.”

He threw the dart, hitting just shy of the bullseye, then turned, gaze sweeping appraisingly over Ethan before he added, “If you ask me, I think he’s nuts. Hell, who wouldn’t want that body of yours, over and over?”

Ethan bit down on his lip hard enough to sting. Devon’s openness—his brazen want—it felt too much. It felt like he was being stripped bare under fluorescent lights, every flaw and vulnerability exposed for scrutiny.

In bed with Logan, things had been different—private and yet electric in a way that made him feel alive. This? This feltinvasive, like stepping onto a stage when all he wanted was to stay in the shadows.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the scuffed wood floor. “He didn’t exactly lead me on.” The words felt like an apology. “I knew what I was getting into,” he added quietly. “Guess I just wanted more than he could give.”

He took a shaky breath and stepped forward to retrieve his darts. He threw them again half-heartedly, more out of habit than focus. His eyes flicked instinctively to the bar where Logan was now sitting with Brick—an easy smile on both their faces as they laughed at something. It was a genuine laugh that lit up his whole face, but when Ethan tentatively smiled in his direction, Logan’s expression shuttered instantly. Stone-faced, he turned away as if Ethan wasn’t there.

That rejection killed. It was sharp and breath-stealing and Ethan turned from the bar before anyone could see how much it stung.

“You know you’re right,” he finally said, forcing a brightness into his tone. “We’re wasting time here. Let’s take Brick up on that club idea.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Devon said with obvious relish as he clapped Ethan on the back. “Just need to hit the head and I’ll be ready.” He grinned, then swaggered in the direction of the men’s room.

Ethan lingered by the dartboard before steeling himself and approaching the bar where Brick sat nursing his beer.

“Need to hit the head.” Logan immediately stood up as Ethan neared, not looking at him but brushing past deliberately enough that their shoulders clashed. The brief contact sent a jolt through Ethan, not unlike the ones he’d felt when they were tangled together beneath sheets, but this one was cold instead of electric.

“Something I said?” Ethan frowned, turning to look at Brick with confusion etched into every line of his face.

Brick glanced sideways before finishing off his beer in one long gulp. “What d’you think of this Devon guy? Seem a little over-friendly to you?”

---