Page 18 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

“Max Burnett, you want to die tonight?”

“Hey, Iplayedhockey, so I’m allowed to say it,” I protested.

“All I’m picking up,” Jesse said, raising a finger, “is that Andrew wants to see me and Mason fuck right here on this bartop?—”

“Gonna smack you, Sanocki,” Andrew said, holding up a threatening hand.

Mason was still scrolling through the comments on my video, transfixed by how many there were.

“Seems like a lot of gay dudes like your Cocktail Bro videos ever since you started posting shirtless, Max,” Mason said. “Is that weird for you?”

“I don’t mind,” I said, grabbing my phone back and looking through the comments. “It’s weird. All I wanted to do was share cocktail recipes. Now everything’s getting complicated.”

I couldn’t deny it. There was a lot of action from gay men. They liked my backwards hat, my biceps, and the way I wore my shorts low-slung, apparently.

I’d just thought I looked ready for a pool party, but apparently, I was bait.

Bait for freaks, both online, and on my own goddamn front porch.

“Who is thatRex67guy?” Andrew asked. “He seems to comment a lot.”

I shook my head. “Nobody. Just a random guy.”

“He said he wants to watch you sleep? Bit weird.”

“He definitely is a weirdo.”

“Stalker levels of weird.”

I missed when I lived in a frat house and always had tons of other guys around. Until now, I never realized how muchsaferit felt. Living with my frat brothers had been my favorite part of my life so far, and goddamn, I still missed college.

That masculine energy. Howfunit had been, too. I was fucking jealous that Andrew, Robbie, and Jesse were still at TNU.

Something was always happening over on the TNU campus, but since I’d entered “the real world,” most days had been the same.

Not that I didn’t love bartending. It was actually something I wasgoodat, after a lifetime of having no idea what I wanted to do for a career. Bartending wasn’t exactly making me rich, but making cocktails? I could do that all day, every day.

“Maybe you should send the stalker guy a cock pic and get it over with?” Andrew said with a shrug.

“Just because there’s a bar between us doesn’t mean I won’t slap you,” I told him.

“Max wouldn’t send a guy a naked pic,” Mason said. “He’s the straightest guy I know.”

“Thestraightest?What does that even mean?”

“Straighter than most frat guys I know,” Robbie added. “Most people in ours have at least smacked a dude’s ass before.”

“Who says I haven’t?” I asked.

I was used to this.

My…innocencewas a common topic of discussion among my friends. They knew I’d never been to a real concert, other than ones held in my high school. They knew I hadn’t traveled, or ever had an office job, or been in a skyscraper. They knew I wanted an easy life, drinking good drinks and eating good food and hopefully ending up married with kids soon enough.

I liked my life, though.

Even if the guys got on my ass all the time for being inexperienced.

“Hell, when’s the last time another guy eventouchedyou, Max?”

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