Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I do like shiny things,” he says with a conceited grin. He turns and eyes Ryan as the guy sets up the rack at the pool table and waves at us.
Greg raises his glass to me and drinks before grabbing Ryan’s Long Island Iced Tea and heading over to the pool table. The place gets busy, and I end up mixing a lot of cocktails and taking some orders for food back to the kitchen. We don’t have much more than bar food—fried everything. I’m in the middle of making six vodka sodas when I catch something out of the corner of my eye at the end of the bar.
Mark leans over and checks my ass out, whistling loudly.
I raise my finger to let him know I’ll be free in a bit.
“Take your time, Timmy,” he says with a wink.
He’s more confident than when I first met him. He’s playful. Frisky. Fun.
He’s so much better than I deserve, and a hell of a lot better than that asshole Greg ever deserved.
His friends Danny and Sean stand beside him, chatting with each other. As they separate, I see Keith is behind them.
Fuck.
Mark said he talked to him, and he’s cool now. I hope that’s true. Don’t want to handle any weird nights of him crying or begging for me to talk to him via text.
He approaches the bar, rubbing his right palm against his jeans the way he used to do whenever he’d get uncomfortable about something. In a black jacket, his hair gelled to the side, he has an uneasy expression on his face as he says, “Miller Lite.”
I grab one and pass it to him.
“I’m sorry that I got all weird there,” he says.
“Not an issue,” I lie.
“I’m friends with Mark, and I’d like it if we were cool, too, if we can be. If not, I get that too. I know I had a hard time with everything when it went down, but I’m good now. I was just—”
“Don’t sweat it,” I say. “It’s not anything that we can’t get past for Mark.”
He smiles. “Yeah.”
I hand him his receipt and merchant copy and a pen.
Mark and Keith and their friends find a pool table to play at for a couple of hours while I do my job, walking by occasionally to check on them and slap Mark’s ass. When we close up, Mark slides onto the stool across from me while I wipe down the mats on the bar, a playful light in his eyes.
“I like the black polo and jeans look,” he says. “The name tag is a little much, but very sexy.”
“You have a thing for bartenders?”
“I have a thing for guys with big dicks.”
I laugh, and we share a knowing look—one that reminds me of how comfortable we both are with where we’re at. How at ease we both can be. How relaxed. When we curl up in bed and watch a movie or TV show, me holding him in my arms, I know I could do that for the rest of my life and be perfectly content. I cherish the time we spend together. Even stupid shit like when I wake up before he does and get to watch him sleep right up until his alarm goes off. I’ve gotten into the habit of licking his cheek to wake him—something he likes a hell of a lot. And I’m getting even better at hitting his spots, pleasing him the way he needs to be pleased.
“Mark, hey,” Greg says as he approaches with Ryan.
Greg’s been eyeing him all night, but since Mark and his buddies were at a pool table on the opposite side of the bar, he never had a convenient opportunity to approach.
Mark turns to Greg. “Hey, man.” He doesn’t seem as playful as he did when he was talking to me, and I’m pissed that Greg had to pop by and kill the mood.
“This is my boyfriend, Ryan.”
“Hi, Ryan,” Mark says. They shake hands. “Hope this one’s not giving you too much trouble.”
Ryan smiles. He seems nice and innocent. I would say that’s Greg’s type, but I know better now.
“No, he’s great,” Ryan says with his blind faithfulness.
Mark glances at Greg. I can tell he’s judging him for what he’s going to do to this poor guy.
I wonder if he’ll call him out, but he just says, “It was nice meeting you.”
They chat briefly before Greg and Ryan say their goodbyes and head for the door.
“Keep an eye on him, Ryan,” Mark calls out. “He’s got a few tricks up his sleeve.”
Ryan laughs as they head out, and Mark turns to me.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He takes a moment before saying, “You think I should have said something? On one hand, I feel like I should, but then on the other, I’m like, ‘What if it was just me? What if he’s good with that guy, and I’m the one that he wasn’t…satisfied with?’ ”