Page 25 of Love Story

Ben flushed red.“I… I’m not sure what—”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Haider said, patting Ben’s arm and leaning closer.“You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Ben glanced at me, looking for help, but I could only raise an eyebrow.Haider was a storm that you waited to pass, and I wasn’t getting in the way despite my visceral feeling Haider shouldn’t have his hands on my Ben.

Ben.

NotmyBen.For fuck’s sake.

“Come have a drink with us,” Haider said, tugging Ben toward the door as though the decision had already been made.

“I really shouldn’t intrude,” Ben protested, his tone hesitant and his feet dragging as Haider led him down the sidewalk.

“Of course, you can,” Haider replied breezily, his grip on Ben’s arm firm and his confidence unwavering.“I insist.”

Ben cast one last pleading glance in my direction, his expression a mix of uncertainty and embarrassment, but I didn’t step in.Haider had this way of sweeping people along, and to be honest, I was curious to see how Ben handled it.

As they passed me, Haider glanced back, his grin widening, making me want to roll my eyes.He tilted his head, locked eyes with me, and mouthed one word: “Dibs.”

I groaned under my breath, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as I followed them toward the bar.Haider’s flirting was like a freight train—unstoppable, relentless, and borderline absurd.Ben had no idea what to do with it, and I couldn’t tell if that would make things better or worse.But one thing was clear—Haider was in full pursuit, and whether Ben realized it or not, he’d just been pulled into the chaos of Haider’s orbit.

I didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

Lucy’s Bar was our usual haunt, and we always claimed the same corner booth and sat in the same places—until tonight.Ben sat between Haider and Conor, throwing off the balance of things.Haider was glued to his side, chatting and laughing as if they’d known each other forever.

It irritated me, though I couldn’t figure out why at first.Maybe it was because Ben wasn’t part of our foursome.He was an outsider, an interloper.The dynamic felt off.Wrong.

Or maybe it was the way Haider kept touching him.Not in an obvious way—Haider was always tactile, always draping himself over Conor, Ryan, or me—but it felt different tonight.He rested a hand on Ben’s arm, leaned close when Ben spoke, and reached up to adjust Ben’s scarf as if they were an old married couple.

Usually, Haider would’ve been curled up next to Conor, calling him his“favorite pillow.”But tonight?He was focused on Ben.

Ben, for his part, seemed a little uncomfortable, not about the touching—he appeared to lean into that and blushed as though he couldn’t understand the affection.Or maybe I was imagining it.He tried to keep up with the conversation and explained his job in Boston in as few words as possible.“I worked in IT,” he said, his voice steady but not relaxed.“Supported a dealing desk in an investment company.Burned out.”

There was more to the story.I could feel the weight behind his words and saw how he glanced down when he said,“burned out,”like it didn’t begin to cover it.

Before I could ask, Conor jumped in, steering the conversation toward Founder’s Day in May.“So… Fire risk management is a nightmare for the stage this year,” he said, shaking his head.“The manager for one of the acts wants a bunch of pyrotechnics for their show and isn’t taking no for an answer.”

“Who’s the act?”I asked.

Conor leaned forward, lowering his voice as if he were about to spill state secrets.“No sharing, but it’s The Dallas Blade Band.”

I blinked.“Uh… who?”

Haider’s mouth dropped open as if I’d insulted his mother.Ryan froze mid-sip, then set it down with care, as though he couldn’t trust himself not to hurl it across the table.

“You’re kidding, right?”Ryan said.

I glanced between them, confused.“Are they… famous?”

Conor let out a disbelieving laugh.“You havenoidea.”

“What’s the big deal?”I asked, still not getting it.“Why are they playing here, in Caldwell Crossing?Did they lose a bet?”

Conor shrugged, looking as baffled as me.“No freaking idea.”

“It’s not all stress, though, Con; tell them about the parrot,” Ryan prompted.

---