Page 58 of Must Be Love - Irresistible Bachelors

I can’t wait until the next time I get to see him. He’s like an addiction.

I just can’t get enough.

18

AJ

I haven’t seen Mike since our bowling night last month. We were supposed to have another this weekend, but the idiot went and broke his ankle. Looks like our monthly bowling nights will be on pause for the time being. It’s hard to bowl on a broken ankle.

Instead of canceling altogether, Mike and I decided to go to a dive in his neighborhood. It doesn’t have a sign out front. The only way to know about it is if you hear it from a friend, or if you’re brave enough to wander into a random building in Queens. The bar isn’t too far from where Amber lives in the borough.

I know about it because Mike’s brother runs the place. He gives us a heavy discount on beer and food, which is always delicious, despite the sketchy location. The place has to be good if word of mouth is all that keeps it alive.

Mike stands outside the nondescript door, leaning on his crutches. He holds out a hand to shake mine carefully when I approach.

“Hey, man. Glad we could make this work.”

“Whatever, just heal fast so we can get back to bowling.”

He laughs. “I’ll do my best.”

We head inside the bar and find it as busy as it usually is on a Saturday evening. It’s only five, but about half the tables are already full. Mike’s brother, Dave, stands behind the bar, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I’ve never seen him do anything but watch. He’s the opposite of me. Dave has no problem delegating to his employees.

“Hey, Dave,” Mike calls out, hobbling toward the bar. He takes a seat in front of his brother, and I take the one to his left. “How’s it going?”

Dave leaves his perch to shake Mike’s hand. “Bro. What’d you do to the foot?”

“Broke my ankle.”

“How?”

“I was walking and not paying attention. I stepped off the curb and landed wrong.”

Dave bursts out laughing. “You would break your ankle in the stupidest of ways.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. It happens.”

I chuckle. “It is kind of lame, Mike. Maybe you should make up something more interesting.”

“Like what?”

“Shark attack,” Dave suggests. “Or a fight with a bear.”

“Maybe something believable. Like a skydiving injury. You’ve been a few times.”

“I can jump out of a plane and be fine, but I try to walk down the sidewalk, and I snap my ankle. I’ll stick with the regular story. I’m okay with being a wimp.”

“A least you accept it, little brother,” Dave says. “What can I get the two of you?”

Mike laughs. “You’re taking our order?”

Dave calls for one of his bartenders to come over. “No, Bill is taking your order.”

“Sounds more like it. I’ll take whatever is good on tap and the speakeasy burger.”

“I’ll take the fried chicken sandwich and an IPA.”

Bill nods. “Be right up.”

“Take good care of them, Bill.”

The bartender rolls his eyes. “I take good care of everyone.”

“That you do.”

Dave returns to his perch against the wall while Bill takes our order to the kitchen and serves up our beers.

I take a sip of my IPA, my mind wandering back to my date with Amber last night. I was nervous at the start, but I think it went well. We made things official. That was my main goal. I realized this week that she and I have been dating without a label for too long. It occurred to me that if I didn’t specify that I wanted to be exclusive, she might not know. It killed me to think that she might be seeing someone else.

Guilt settles in my stomach. We may be official now, but I’m still keeping a massive secret from Amber. What is she going to do when she finds out the truth?

She’ll hate me. I should have taken the serum back as soon as we had oral sex the first time. I shouldn’t have given it to her in the first place. Briana’s warning echoes in my mind. If I had listened to her, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

But then, would I be dating Amber? We got together because of that serum. For all the harm it might eventually cause, it has done some good, too.

I down nearly half my beer. It’s a Saturday night. I want to let loose and have a good time. That’s not something I do very often.

“How’s the beer?” Dave asks, his arms still crossed.

He doesn’t look at me. His eyes scan the bar. He looks more like a bouncer than the owner. Despite his imposing look, I’ve never seen him kick anyone out of the bar. The best part of being a hole-in-the-wall is that it keeps the miscreants out. Regulars don’t usually fight each other, and when they do, they know enough to take it outside.

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