Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
So I’d ordered a table of food and a round of drinks, which turned into two rounds of drinks, then three for me. Every so often, my eyes found the large TV screens by the bar—hoping, praying, that nothing about me popped up on the screen. Oh, and that no one recognized me. I’d come there hoping someone would, and now I was thankful they didn’t.
Beau was pretty quiet. I felt his eyes on me more than once, so I’d look at him, make a joke or tease him. He’d get annoyed and roll his eyes, and Lincoln would laugh. The laughter was familiar in a time when nothing else was, so I clung to that, did everything I could to keep making Lincoln chuckle.
At one point there was a lull in the conversation, and damn it, nothing witty or funny was coming to me, so I asked a question that had waited impatiently on the tip of my tongue. “So…are you guys…”
“Together?” Beau asked.
“God no,” Lincoln replied.
“Gee, thanks,” Beau scoffed. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you have any interest in me either,” Lincoln answered, then looked at me. “I love Beau. He’s my best friend/babysitter/there better never be anyone in his life more important than me, but it’s not sexual. He’s the most stable, responsible—”
“So basically, boring,” Beau cut him off.
“Your word, not mine.” Lincoln reached over and squeezed his hand. “Anyway…he’s a great guy. Obviously hot as hell, but no, we’re not like that. Never have been. I basically annoy the shit out of him and enjoy it.”
“Hey! Me too,” I added. “Or at least, I used to. What gives, Cranky Campbell?” I asked.
“Maybe the fact that you call me that?” he answered.
“Nah, that’s not it. I annoyed you before that.”
“And this is why we love our Beau. He wouldn’t know how to have any fun without us. But again, not that kind of fun. We wouldn’t be compatible in bed, if you know what I mean.”
I stared at him, his body blurring a little around the edges—probably a mixture of alcohol and…okay, so probably just because of the alcohol. Also…I had no idea what he meant. “Actually, I don’t.”
“We’re both catchers.”
“Jesus Christ, Linc,” Beau practically growled at him. “Could you not spread my business to the whole restaurant?”
“I didn’t.” Lincoln shook his head. “Just to Ash. Oh, look, he’s blushing.”
My face flamed to the extent I thought I might pass out. I wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t as if I didn’t ever talk sex with my friends, but this was…different. This evening had to break some record. I was pretty sure I hadn’t blushed this much in my life.
Beau liked to be on the bottom… Beau liked to be…fucked?
“Let’s change the subject.” Beau rubbed his hand over his face, and I noticed it looked like he hadn’t shaved that day. A dusting of stubble danced across his jawline and cheek. He’d been smooth-shaven when we’d been in high school. It was a strange thing to remember about him, but I did.
His black hair was a little longer than it had been, a little wavier on top. The sides were shorter, though. It looked really fucking soft.
“Can I have one more?” I asked the waitress, and she said she’d be right back with my drink. Beau’s eyes were on me again. I could feel them even though I wasn’t looking at him, and I was positive he was frowning.
“What’s the frown for?” Lincoln asked.
“I wasn’t frowning,” Beau replied, but he had been. I’d called it before Lincoln had spoken.
“Okay, we’ll go with that.” Lincoln winked at Beau, and I realized how much I liked him. He was a fun guy, friendly, and apparently didn’t give a shit about football. He hadn’t asked me about my career, what went wrong, or chastised me for throwing it all away. Neither he nor Beau had. That thought made my eyes get drawn to Beau again. He had his arms crossed on the table as he and Lincoln went back and forth about his frown. His arms were bigger than I remembered them being…not that I’d paid all that much attention to Beau’s arms back then, and I wasn’t now really either, but they were definitely bigger, more defined.
There were three small moles on his bicep, above a scar. I remembered that, but only because it had always looked like a happy face—two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
We’d been about sixteen, I thought, when I saw it. We’d been lifting weights in PE, and much to Beau’s annoyance, we’d been partnered with each other. I’d stood above him, spotting him, watching his arms for any sign that he needed help, when suddenly it looked like his muscle was smiling at me, or at least the little face on it was. Strange that I would remember something so small, that many years later.