Page 28 of Game Winner
“It’s hot.” Soren nips at my earlobe, unleashing a torrent of tingles down my spine and landing in my half-hard cock. “And you’re insanely talented. One of the best.”
I adjust myself, bumping Tyler’s hand, skimming the denim of my thigh, which does not help the situation in my pants. “I’ll take the compliment, but you might be wearing rose-colored glasses.”
“If it’s something I’m hearing, wouldn’t that make it rose-colored headphones?” He tilts his head to the side as he considers the question. The flashing lights shift his hair from pink to blue to green.
Laughing, I snag hold of his hand, and twist my other hand so I’m holding Tyler’s too. “I guess you’re right."
I’m happy they’re here tonight. They’re heading out in a couple of days for a week-long road trip, so I wanted to spend as much time as I can with them before they leave. With my work schedule and gigs, and their games and practices, it’ll be close to two weeks before we’ll see each other again. It feels too long to be without them. Already, my arms ache to hold them, and I miss the good feelings that come with being in their presence.
It’s unbelievable how quickly they’ve become such an important part of my life. In the span of nearly a month, I’vegone from that sexy dance floor encounter I’d assumed was a one-off to daily texts and seeing them whenever our schedules allow. They’re the ones I want to share my day with. Whether it’s telling them about the little girl in the kindergarten class who came in last week and asked if all the things in the museum come alive at night. Or the coworker who stinks up the break room by microwaving fish for lunch. Or how the closer we get to Winter Fest, the more nervous I get. Tyler and Soren are the first people I want to talk to.
Layne climbs onto the stage, snagging my attention. The singer of the band playing is someone we’ve known for years. He sways on unsteady legs, but she welcomes him to share her mic, and they belt out a cover of an eighties pop hit.
Tyler squeezes my hand. “You okay? You keep looking at Layne.”
“He’s always been all over the place, but this…” I jerk my chin toward the stage. “The way he’s acting tonight isn’t characteristic. He hasn’t been himself in weeks, but refuses to talk about why. I’m worried.” And I’m tired of feeling pulled in two directions. I want to enjoy the limited time I have with my boyfriends, trading stories, discovering secrets, creating memories. Instead, my attention is split, half on them and half on watching my best friend self-destruct.
Layne hops off the stage with a wobble and into a group dancing in front of it. He accepts a shot from someone, downs it, and wraps himself around the guy dancing beside him. They kiss until another song begins, then Layne is off again, bouncing to another group and downing another drink.
Anger, annoyance, and worry pulse bright. With a squeeze to both their hands, I push back my chair. “I need to check on him.”
I push through the crowd, nodding at friends, until I reach Layne, and catch hold of his shirttail as he sets his empty glass on the closest table. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”
His eyeliner, dark and smudged, makes his pale eyes pop, but can’t hide the shadows of sadness there. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” I drape my arm along his shoulders, partly to keep him from drifting off and partly to let him know I care. “Please talk to me. You aren’t yourself tonight. You haven’t really been yourself since I learned about the mystery person behind that song.”
He winces, lifts his empty cup to his lips and tips it back, catching the lone drop that rolls down the glass. “I don’t want to talk. It’s New Year’s Eve. I want to drink and dance.”
“This isn’t like you.” I motion to the crowded dance floor. “Kissing a ton of people. I don’t want you doing anything you’ll wake up tomorrow regretting.”
He shoves my arm off of him, and spins so we’re face to face. And his face is pissed. His hands on his hips and the jut of his chin would be intimidating if his gold lamé shirt wasn’t unbuttoned to his navel, making him look like he’s going to a disco. “So you get to have two people to kiss, and I can’t have any?”
Rough spikes of irritation scrape through me. I grit my teeth. “I didn’t say that. And you know it. Come on, Layne. You’re acting erratic, drinking too much, making out like there’s a prize for it. I’m worried you’ll end up in a situation you don’t want to be in.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Ha.” My laugh barks out fast and loud. “Do you?”
On the dance floor, Soren and Tyler move together, their attention angled in my direction. It’s getting close to midnight. The desire to be there with them and not here, scrapes like sandpaper. “I don’t have time for this.”
“It’s not like you have much time for me anyway.” His words are quiet and full of resentment.
“What?” My head jolts back with the smack of his accusation. Layne stumbles against me, grasping my shirt in an attempt to remain upright. Muttering a curse, I wrap my arm around him, supporting him as I walk us over to an empty chair. “I can’t do this with you right now. You’re not in any condition to have a conversation.”
“I’m fine.”
“So you keep saying. Even though I know it’s not true.”
He brings his finger up to his lips. The cloud of sorrow veiling his eyes eclipses his cheeky grin. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Fuck. Layne.” How the hell can I stay angry at him? He’s hurting. I just wish he’d stop being stubborn, let me know what’s really going on, and then maybe I could find a way to fix it.
His grin falters, and he rubs his forehead. “Think I want another drink.”
“How about some water?”
He pats my chest. “Boring. Let’s dance.”
