We parkedin the lot next to the gray building housing the bar, a two-story blocky thing with the bar on the bottom floor. A patio rested in the front with black iron fencing, while small older houses sat across the street from it. It would be too cold to sit on the patio tonight.
As I stepped from the truck, my gaze caught Ethan, strolling toward me, his brown hair cut shorter than when I’d seen him over the summer, his dark eyes focused on me.
“Wren.” He jogged to me and hugged me. “Damn, it’s good to see you, man.”
Hugging him back, I said, “Same.” As I stepped away from him, I held my arm toward Eli. “You remember Eli.”
“Hey, man, good to see you.” Eli held his hand out and Ethan shook it, then side-hugged him.
“It’s awesome to see you two together again.” He patted Eli on the shoulder. “You’re as big as a damn house.”
With a chuckle, Eli said, “Yeah, they’re feeding me well in Arizona.” He glanced at the bar. “Is thisplace?—”
“It’s basically queer-friendly, but I wouldn’t, like, make out at the pool tables, you know what I mean?” Ethan hitched his jeans up and straightened his puffy jacket.
“Yeah.” Eli made to grab my hand and then stopped. “Let’s read the room before any PDA.”
“I agree.” I strolled inside behind them and into the bar.
NINETEEN
ELI
I’d never frequented this side of town when I’d been home. But then, I hadn’t lived here for four years and didn’t attend school here like Ethan and Wren. As we walked inside, I scanned the place, the dark wooden bar lining one wall with shelves of liquor bottles behind it. At an angle was another bar with a long row of beer taps jutting from white subway tiles. Two pool tables occupied the rear, with four-top tables dispersed on the dark tile floor. Most clientele occupied barstools near the bar. I sniffed, the scent of greasy food and stale beer assaulting my senses.
“Looks interesting.” It definitely was not The Club on Mill. I wasn’t sure about showing Wren affection here, no matter what Ethan advised.
While approaching an opening in the bar, a man twisted around, and a smile broke on his face. “Eli? Eli Dawson?” He stepped toward me, arms opening.
Fuck, it was Kit, one of the guys who’d said shit about Wren in high school. Hopefully, he’d mellowed with age. “Hey, Kit. Good to see you.” Walking toward him, I gave him a bro-hug and glanced at Wren, strolling with Ethan toward the bar. “How’ve you been, man?”
“Great, I’m still playing at the University of Washington. Are you still at ASU?” He lifted his brows.
“I am.” I snuck a peek at Wren and Ethan. Obviously, they still wanted nothing to do with Kit. But they’d never been friends in high school either.
“Cool, I’m here with Patrick.” Grabbing my arm by the elbow, he said. “Come on, he’ll shit himself seeing you here.”
“Uh, okay.” I let him lead me toward the end of the bar where Patrick, our second-string running back, sat on a stool, chatting up a woman.
“Hey, Patrick. Look who’s here?” Kit pushed me toward Patrick.
“Oh my God, Eli Dawson?” Patrick hopped from his stool. “I hear you’re a superstar linebacker at ASU now.” He gave me a side-hug, clapping his hand in mine.
“Hey, yeah, I’m going into the draft in the spring.” Had Patrick even stayed in football? I twisted and swayed, attempting to find Wren.
“Can I buy you a beer?” Kit flagged down a bartender. “Come on, it’s on me. What do you want?”
I peered at the taps. “Give me the IPA.” My attention drew to Patrick. “Are you still playing?”
“Naw, I quit after high school.” He shook his head. “I never matched your skill.”
“What are you doing now?” I thanked the bartender as he set my IPA on the bar, and then I picked it up.
“I’m at the University of Washington with Kit. We’re roommates up there.” He plucked a beer from the bar and sipped it.
Shit, I should go back to Wren. With a nod, I said, “Well, it’s been?—”
“Hey, are you still hanging around with Wren Lewis? I saw you walk in with him and his buddy.” Kit narrowed his eyes at me.
