Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Chapter 7
THREE hours and twice as many drinks later, Asher had the uncomfortable feeling that a dancer was besting him in a mind game. And he didn’t even know the reason for the game or what they were playing.
Chase was all bright smiles and loud laughs, whispering in Daniel’s ear, bringing up stories from the good old days, and constantly finding reasons to touch him. It wasn’t anything overtly sexual—a shoulder squeeze here, an elbow grab there—but it was almost nonstop and it was driving Asher crazy.
It was that Vegas chemical-infused air thing. That had to be the reason for Asher’s behavior. There could be no other rational explanation. He didn’t normally get drunk, didn’t normally obsess over skinny guys who needed a haircut, didn’t normally notice, much less care, about whether someone should be wearing a jacket or at least a long-sleeved shirt. But there he was, slamming back one drink after another and watching Daniel—who was wearing a baseball cap so old that the emblem wasn’t recognizable and a shirt so thin and threadbare he might as well have been nude—shivering and rubbing his hands up and down his arms, but still smiling and talking with every person in the room except for him.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Daniel had talked to him, but between Chase and the slew of strangers who made a beeline for Daniel and started chatting him up, Asher felt like he was playing second fiddle for Daniel’s attention, something he didn’t appreciate. So he decided to get a drink, hang out with Oliver, listen to music, do something else mature and reasonable and in no way resembling a temper tantrum. But apparently sometime during the night, logical thinking had vacated the premises and Jack Daniels had taken over the lease, at which point the only thing Asher seemed capable of doing was getting drunk off his ass and sulking.
“What’s up with you?” Oliver asked as he sat down on an empty barstool next to Asher.
“What do you mean?” Asher barked. “I’m just having a drink. We’re in a bar. That’s what people do in a bar. You have a problem with that?”
“Damn, Asher. Chill out. You’re wound tight, even for you.”
“You’re the one accusing me of being jealous,” Asher snapped defensively.
Just then, Chase leaned close to Daniel and whispered something in his ear while he moved his hand to the small of Daniel’s back and looked at Asher with a smirk. Asshole.
“Jealous?” Oliver asked, but Asher was too distracted to respond. “Uh, Asher, nobody said anything about being jealous.”
That comment filtered through and Asher finally looked at Oliver. He tried to replay their conversation in his mind, but he hadn’t been focusing. He had been watching Daniel talk with Oliver’s friends, mingle with strangers in the bar, smile and laugh, and bump into just about every table and chair in the place. It was adorable, actually. Or it would have been adorable if Chase hadn’t been attached to Daniel at the hip.
Thankfully, Oliver kept talking so Asher didn’t have to respond to his question. At least he could count on his old friend to be consistent in his inability to shut up.
“I just asked what was going on with you. Are you drunk?”
“No,” Asher said, somehow managing to slur the one-syllable word. It was as if Oliver had the power to make his accusation a reality merely by the power of suggestion.
“Yes, you are. You’re drunk. You never get drunk and suddenly you’re getting wasted two nights in a row. Something is definitely up with you. And what did you say about being jealous?”
“Please.” Asher rolled his eyes and then hated himself for acting like a twelve-year-old. “I’m not jealous of Chase.” He spat out the name. “I mean, come on! Look at him. He’s wearing makeup and giggling. And is that a scarf around his neck?”
With that comment, he grasped his glass and tilted it back, not realizing it was empty until he was looking up at the ceiling and still had a dry mouth.
“You are such an asshole.” Initially thinking Oliver had made the comment, since they’d been talking, Asher was surprised when he realized it wasn’t Oliver’s voice he’d heard. It was Chase’s. “I have no idea what Daniel sees in you,” Chase continued.
Asher slammed his glass on the bar and drops of liquid flew out. How that was possible when no liquid had been available to go into his mouth, Asher didn’t understand and he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to deal with Daniel’s annoying gnat of a friend.
“He sees a man. Am I actually supposed to believe you’re his ex? What were you two, girlfriends or something?”
“Wow,” Oliver gasped.
Chase scowled. The bright smile and guileless expression he had been wearing all evening vanished. He squinted and leaned close to Asher. With Chase standing and Asher sitting on a barstool, they were face to face.