Page 16 of Stupid Dirty

And more importantly, he’s super fucking warm. I let him pull me tight against his body and siphon off some of the heat that always seems to roll off him. I’m a big guy, but I’m lean. I look like a dirt bike racer. If Silas wants to use his bulk to block out the wind and warm me up, I’m not going to argue with it.

Especially when I know how big a deal it’s been to get used to touching anyone in the first place. From the first time he hugged me in a drunken haze, I realized it was not something he had a lot of practice with.

I do reluctantly peel us apart when we get to the door, though. I don’t want anyone to crack a joke and hurt his feelings. They don’t get how big a deal it is for him to just be here in the firstplace, and I don’t want any asshole behavior setting back the progress he’s made.

He watches me silently as I put a few inches of distance between us, but he doesn’t say anything as he slips his hands into his pockets. Maybe I should explain? It’s possible that drawing attention to it would only make things more awkward.

The window of opportunity closes before I get the chance to say anything when the door swings open.

“Oh my God you actually caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.”

If the way Wish launches herself into my arms is any indicator, she’s already having a good time. Her mohawk is slightly askew and there’s a smear of dark lipstick at the corner of her mouth.

I wipe it away with my thumb, making her giggle. Silas watches the movement intently.

“I told you, you’re supposed to warn me if it’s a sex party, Wish. I’m not sure Silas is ready for that. And I know I’m not. Your friends are terrifying.”

Even Silas laughs at that, although he sounds a little uncertain, and Wish punches me in the arm for my troubles.

“Dick. Don’t be biphobic. We’re not all sluts.”

“I never said that. My aunt Jaz is bi and I don’t think she’s had sex since the Bush administration. Bush Senior. That woman fucking loves quilting. You, though, light of my life, are a slut. And I love you for it. It’s important that someone in this relationship is getting laid. Now let us in, woman. I’m freezing my nuts off out here.”

She tries to scowl at me, but I keep grinning at her in the most charming way I know how and eventually she relents. Stepping back from the door, we finally cross the threshold and get into the fucking warmth.

It’s loud and hectic inside, in a way that always settles me. Which seems counterintuitive, but I blame my childhood. Silas, however, looks like he’s trying to become one with the wall.

It probably doesn’t help that Wish is giving him the once over. This is the first time they’ve really met since the time she dragged me off him at Braydon’s house.

Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.

Her face is intense, which makes her next question for him seem more ominous than I think she intended.

“So, Silas, what’s your deal? Girls? Guys? Threesomes? Pet play? You have but to name it, and I shall try to acquire it for you.”

She ends this kind but incredibly invasive offer with a slightly wobbly curtsey, and Silas gives me hishelp meface. Drunk Wish is not good at boundaries.

“Ignore her. She doesn’t know how to mind her own business.”

Grabbing Silas’ hand, I pull him away from the bisexual inquisition and towards the other side of the room for a drink.

I’ve lived here for my entire life, so I know everyone in the room and I’ve partied here a hundred times before. Which is nice, because it means I can ignore these knuckleheads and focus on making sure Silas isn’t secretly having a meltdown. There’s a table with a bunch of half-drunk liquor bottles scattered over it and I pour us both a drink out of habit.

He’s already taking a sip from the jack and coke I handed him before I realize it might not have been a good idea.

It’s only been a few weeks since the quarry. Every time we’ve hung out, I’ve either been on my way to work, or we’ve been riding together. There weren’t any situations where alcohol came up, so I hadn’t given it any thought.

But he was fucking wasted at that party. And I have no idea whether that was more of a root cause or an unfortunate coincidence.

Tread lightly here, Cade.

“So, do you drink a lot?”

Smooth.

He looks perplexed for a minute, but then shakes his head. There’s a long pause while he finds his words.

“My dad, he drinks. I’ve seen what it’s like. Plus, he never liked anything that interfered with training. Parties, girls, whatever. If I wanted something other than training, I had to fight for it. And twice as hard if it was something that directly impacted training, like ‘empty calories’.” He air quotes and it’s so dumb it’s almost endearing. But the idea that his dad kept track of his calorie intake puts a queasy feeling in my gut. He keeps going, though. “The party at Brayden’s was probably the first time I got truly shit-faced. Booze never seemed worth fighting for, especially if it was just going to make me more like him.”

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