Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
The Library. Huh, cute name.
Upon entering, I quickly realized where the bar’s namesake came from. The place looked like it had actually been a functioning library at one point. The entrance was dim, the circular check-in area turned into a bar that was stocked with dozens of different beers, all named after famous literary characters. Some book aisles still remained, serving as more private seating areas where you can go and get cozy with a date. There were comfortable-looking booths against the walls that were packed with books upon books upon books, the spines organized by color to complement the three main colors: taupes and grays and blues. There weren’t many people around, which I didn’t mind. Shouldering my way through a bunch of drunk and sweaty bodies was never my cup of tea.
I sat on a high-top stool and got the bartender’s attention, a smiling girl with bright pink hair and an art gallery’s worth of tattoos on both her arms. She was the kind of person I was always surprised about seeing in a small town. Then again, Blue Creek consistently found ways of surprising me.
“Moscow mule, please.”
“You got it,” she said, rapping the polished bar top with one tattooed knuckle before grabbing a copper cup and getting to work. I pulled out my phone and decided to brainlessly scroll through whatever memes people were sharing, only to immediately regret my decision when news stories and gossip posts of the Pegasus flooded my timeline. The story was beginning to reach critical mass, becoming more and more salacious and ratings-generating by the day.
The bartender handed me my drink, and I shut my phone. There was nothing on there worth my time right now. I had already spent the entire day working on this case, and I expected to work much of the night, too. This was my break time, and I wanted to be as far away from work as I could get, considering the circumstances.
Which was why I was equally floored and pleasantly surprised when I spotted the next two patrons to walk into the bar. And no, they weren’t priests, rabbis, or ministers.
It was Harry and Jason Quill. My best friend and his little brother, together, in the same small town I had found myself brought to.
What in the fuck are the chances?
I stood and caught Harry’s eyes first. He opened his arms and gave me a “holy shit” as he patted my back with his strong hands. When the hug was over, I turned to Jason and was offered a handshake. Part of me—a very distant but rabid part of me—wanted to slap that hand out of the air and kiss him instead, with a force that would blow us right back into the past, when we’d lose hours of the day just playing with each other, teasing and kissing and—
“Want to grab a booth?” Jason asked, pointing toward one of the many open spaces. A slow pop song played low over the speakers, making it easy to hear one another while still providing a gentle ambiance. I nodded and stretched my arm out.
“Lead the way.”
Jason did, walking ahead of us, giving me a view that did nothing to tamp down my rising urges. He’d always filled out his jeans, both in the front and the back, tonight being no exception. His favorite day at the gym used to be leg day, and it clearly hadn’t changed since we last worked out together.
We slid into the booth, an awkward and unusual quiet settling over the group. Normally, I could shoot the shit with Harry for hours. The two of us never ran out of conversation topics, flipping between mindless chatter and deep introspection effortlessly. We were clearly made to be best friends.
Jason, on the other hand, was a harder nut to crack. Conversation between us had also always been easy with a small caveat: the undercurrent of wanting to fuck each other’s brains out sometimes made it difficult to focus on actual words. That was the thing about us. When we worked, we fucking worked. Like magic. Jason and I together could make stars explode and planets dance. We were a force of nature, blowing through everything in our path.
Everything except for Harry. His brother, my best friend, a barrier neither of us wanted to topple over to get to the other. I loved Harry like he were my own brother, and getting with his younger brother—regardless of the fiery passion between us—was an unwritten no-no. A rule that both Jason and I had broken quite a few times in the past, but ultimately, the barrier proved too tall to climb without hurting someone in the process.
So we hurt ourselves instead. We pushed each other away when the flames between us became too intense, threatening to turn all our cautions and worries to ash. We stopped talking outside of work, and we no longer had our late-night hangout sessions.