Page 10 of Advanced Chemistry

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For taking this chance on BS.”

Part of why we named our company Beverage Solutions was so that we could call it BS as a nickname, which ensured we never took ourselves too seriously.

He leaned on the table, gazing at me with his dark eyes, his arms bulging against the fabric of his tight T-shirt.

Resisting his charm was the fight of my life.

“So what happened with Kamran?” I changed the subject to his current hookup to remind myself that Anton was incredibly off-limits.

Anton rolled his eyes, teasing that there was quite a story he had no interest in rehashing. “Kamran is gonna Kamran.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Seb, he said the M-word.” Anton gritted his teeth. “Moving in together.”

“Already?” A flash of jealousy raged through me, which was what I deserved for bringing up Anton’s love life. In addition to being a friend and business partner, Anton was also my roommate, so I was technically invested in this outcome, and thus could continue digging. “How long have you guys been together?”

“We were never together. We were dating, hooking up, hanging out for like what? A few weeks?”

“Those are all suitable synonyms for being together.” Scarlet and crimson were synonyms for red, the color lighting up my brain at the thought of other guys getting to hook up with Anton.

Anton was probably a really good kisser. He probably knew that about himself, too.

Ugh. So confident. So fucking hot.

“Being together implies being a couple, and we both know that’s not my speed. I thought we were having fun. But then on Tuesday night…” Anton steeled himself to keep going. “He invited me over, and hecookedfor me, and wecuddledon the couch and watched the final two episodes ofBridgerton.”

Anton shuddered, as if he survived a hostage situation that would haunt him the rest of his days.

“You’re acting like those are bad things.”

“It was so…normal and boring and…couple-y.” He shuddered.Shuddered.As if those adjectives were fates worse than death. “Like we were some old, married husbands squared.”

“It sounded sweet.” What I wouldn’t give for a good cuddle? I was a wolf in the boardroom, and a cuddleslut in the bedroom.

“Seb, you know me.”

I nodded. The only thing that Anton liked sweet was candy. This was a common occurrence for him. We’d had this conversation many times before.

“You keep finding yourself in these situations. You start hooking up with a guy, but then you get upset when you find out that you’re actually dating. Is that technically a Catch-22?”

“Why can’t things stay fun? Why do guys have to get clingy? That’s not my style.”

“A home cooked dinner and watching TV isn’t clingy. That sounds nice!”

“That sounds like my parents.” Anton made a retching sound.

“Your parents have been happily married for thirty years. You poor thing. The generational trauma you must be walking around with…”

Anton lovingly flipped me the bird.

“I’ll happily trade you happily married parents for my broken home.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, man.” He bowed his head, contrite and unsure how to respond to my joke. Dark humor was what helped me survive watching my dad walk out, but it would never resonate with people from happy families.

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