Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Back off,” Driver said to his friend and then to Tam, “Brando is a little obsessed.” Driver pointed to Brandon’s full sleeve tattoo. Part of it was hidden by the shirt sleeve but Tam could see various images along with words and titles to what he assumed were plays.
“Not obsessed, passionate.” Brandon rolled up the shoulder so the full impact of his tattoos could be enjoyed. “This here is Les Mis.” He pointed to a black and white portrait of a young girl. “It’s a classic and the original has one of the best lead actors ever, in my opinion. Now you can’t go wrong with Chicago, of course, you must’ve heard of Chicago? Seen the movie?” Big bold red letters with a cute blonde doing a split above them.
Tam shook his head and Brandon tsked. “Honey, where’ve you been living? This is New York City, the theater capital of the world.”
What could Tam say to that? Not the truth—that he’d been too busy trying to survive to pay attention to silly musicals. That wasn’t fair, or nice, so he just kept his mouth shut.
“Well, it’s good you came to Stage Left. By the end of the night you’ll be well educated.”
“We’re not here for show tunes. We’re just going upstairs to play some pool. He is not your newest inductee.”
Brandon rolled his eyes and poured the drink he’d been working on into a tall glass. “Nice meeting you, Tameron. Have fun.” And then he headed toward the other end of the bar to take more orders.
Not long after, Driver finished his creation as well and slid the drink toward Tam.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Driver circled around and took Tam’s hand again. “Ready to play?”
Tam was still focused on the gorgeously bright pink drink in the tall stem glass as Driver dragged him through the door to the back room and into a private hall that led to a staircase. He sipped it and the tart raspberry flavor exploded on his tongue.
“Wow, yum.” Tam took another sip as he followed Driver up the stairs. At the top, Driver pulled out his keys to unlock the door. “Where are we going?”
“Brandon’s apartment.” He flicked on the lights.
“You have keys to his place?”
“I stay here sometimes when I’m in town.”
“Oh.” Tam glowered into the drink as a strange, unsettling feeling squeezed his ribs.
“We’ve been best friends since before I can remember.”
Driver’s explanation didn’t help at all. Tam pinched his lips together and followed him into the apartment. Unlike downstairs, the apartment was kind of dull. It was a typical bachelor pad, complete with a fold-out pool table instead of a dining room set.
Driver shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossing it onto a chair as he crossed to the rack where the pool sticks hung.
As appealing as Driver had been practically nude in the laundry room, there was something about the way the thin cotton of his T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. It really should be illegal for clothing companies to make shirts that tight.
Maybe it was the light, but the intricate tattoos seemed so much more beautiful now. Tam wished he’d taken the time to really study them when he’d had the chance. Seeing as Brandon had a reason for his ink, Tam bet there were stories for each of Driver’s too. He wanted to hear them. When Driver turned, Tam looked away and pretended to study the scuffed green felt.
No, that was wrong. He didn’t want to know Driver’s stories. He certainly didn’t want to see his tattoos up close and personal. Except his heart was pounding, his fingers trembled, and he couldn’t focus. No matter how often he and the boys had spent long nights around Prism Center’s cheap pool table, in that moment he couldn’t remember a damn thing about the game.
Driver came forward carrying two long sticks and a wooden triangle thing. “I’ll rack and then you can break.” He handed over both sticks, forcing Tam to set his drink on the counter, then set the triangle on the table.
“What am I breaking?”
Driver chuckled as he began pulling multicolored balls from the holes on the table and arranging them within the triangle. “Records, baby.”
* * *
Tam was a siren.
Not intentionally, Driver didn’t think. It wasn’t flirting like he was used to, but it certainly was a seduction. Or, maybe that was just how Driver interpreted each move because he was desperate to believe it.
Those large brown eyes were coquettish and beguiling, either heavy-lidded in clear desire or blinking with innocence. Driver found himself spellbound.
And the grace, Christ. Tam didn’t just walk or take a shot or drink. He glided, he reclined, he fucking sipped. Everything was so elegant it was almost like watching a ballet. Insane to think Tam could move so naturally on five-inch heels and still seem awkward when it came to casual conversation. Although his initial discomfort at dinner had passed, and now he seemed more relaxed and open. There was still a skittishness about him that pulled at Driver’s protective instincts and curiosity.