“That guy.”
Linc squinted, like that would help. “Who?”
A hand slithered along his ribs, then appeared on the other side of Linc’s body and pointed in the direction of four men sitting around a table. Linc hadn’t noticed them before.
“Which one?”
“The one with the hair.” Avery slid in closer.
Of the four men seated at a table across the room, two were dark-haired, two fairer. The one with the hair had to be the guy with the man-bun piled up on top of his head.
“Who is he?” Linc said as he turned back. His fists clenched. If that guy had hurt Avery before, even made him feel uncomfortable, Linc would not be okay with that.
Avery darted another nervous glance beyond Linc. “His name is Oliver.”
The beer sloshed in Linc’s veins as he looked Oliver up and down one more time. “I could take him.”
Avery squeezed his knee and shushed him. “Someone will hear you.” His hand on Linc’s thigh was warm and soft.
“I could. Stupid little man-bun. I could totally take him.”
“It’s not like that.” Avery rested his forehead on Linc’s shoulder. “I maybe spent a month or two last year pretty sure we were into each other. Turned out it was only a one-way thing.”
Linc stiffened. He put a hand over Avery’s, but he didn’t take his eyes off Oliver. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I mean—” He sighed. “I thought he felt something, he didn’t. It was kind of awful, but the whole thing was my fault.”
“He led you on?”
“No!” Avery unwound himself, and Linc missed the contact. “Just a misunderstanding. He was super nice, right up to the end.”
“What happened at the end?” Linc’s pulse thumped in his ears. Maybe he was going to have to talk to this guy after all.
“What? No. I ruined it. He was into someone else. The guy sitting next to him.” He glanced away, putting his hands over his cheeks. “Can we change the subject?”
They could, but changing the subject didn’t mean Linc would stop thinking about it. Oliver sat at his table, getting cozy with another guy, a few years older and built like a tank. Solid muscle and dark eyes were the first things Linc noticed. If he was the kind of guy Oliver was attracted to, then Oliver was a bastard for letting Avery think otherwise.
Oliver put his hand on the dark-eyed man’s back, and his thumb swept up and down with casual affection, like it didn’t matter who would see. The easy gesture was so unfair when Linc had been trying hard to keep some platonic distance between himself and Avery.
“Are you still interested in him?” he said.
Avery shook his head, while beer sloshed over the sides of his glass. “No. He’s too old. I knew that then.”
Linc wasn’t. They were exactly the same age. They’d be so good together.
Avery did his best to make Oliver’s arrival seem like no big deal, but his smiles weren’t as bright, his gestures less animated. He held his beer between his hands instead of drinking it. The sight of him deflating, when they had been doing so well, made Linc finish the rest of his pint faster.
He checked over his shoulder again. Oliver had his head tipped back, laughing at something the other blond man was saying.
Avery’s face was still sad. “I have to pee.” He pushed himself off the stool, then frowned when Linc did the same. “What are you doing?”
Going with him? Trying to put the smile back on his face? Hooking up in a bathroom wasn’t his favorite way to get busy, but for Avery, he’d do it.
Linc sat back down. “Nothing.”
When Avery was gone, Linc finished his beer and ordered another one. He stared at Oliver. The unfairness thrummed beneath his skull. This guy was here, enjoying himself, showing off everything he had, while Linc couldn’t get what he wanted.
He pushed off the stool, but instead of heading toward the bathroom, he weaved his way across the bar toward Oliver.
