A trap door opens beneath me, in me, around me, as the words and the meaning sink in. I flounder, unsure where to look or what to say. Luke bounds to the house before I have time to formulate a response. He grabs me into a bear hug and lifts me off my feet, bringing me back to the present.
“Lukey,” I bellow as I wrap my arms around him.
Jessie rolls his eyes and reaches for Luke’s hand in a gentle attempt to extricate him from me. I look up expectantly. Jessie shakes his head, flicking his eyes to Stuart. Wyn concedes, giving me a barely acceptable sarcastic and droll “Pookie,” but I decide to allow it.
“How’ve you been, Gouldie?” asks Luke. “I’ve missed you, man. Don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without seeing you.”
“I know. Sorry, I’ve been, like, busy and whatever. Busy but good…really good.”
“Come in, come in,” says Stuart when I’ve introduced him to everyone. “Make yourselves at home.”
Will, Mat, and Trouble arrive as Stuart and I start fixing drinks for the others. Trouble’s wearing a skintight low-cut white V-neck top pushed up to his elbows and a pair of black skinny jeans. His eyes are smudged with black liner and his hair is a little disheveled. It’s a very, very paired-back look for him, but dammit, he still looks eye-wateringly beautiful.
I cast an eye over to Stuart, belly clenching uncomfortably, fully expecting to see a dreamy blue glaze in his eyes. The same dumb look that takes everyone over, regardless of gender or orientation, the first time they meet Trouble. To my surprise, he doesn’t flinch. He greets Trouble as if he’s a mere mortal and makes Will and Mat feel welcome too.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks.
“Sorry we’re late, Gould,” says Trouble, batting his lashes. “It was Mattie’s fault. Will and I were…well,innocent victimsisn’t quite the right phrase, but it’s close.”
“Yeah, Mat finished his job at Bowman’s last Friday, and he’s had the whole week off work,” explains Will, looking tired but disgustingly happy. “He’s been…high energy.”
Will and Trouble cackle like hyenas, under the idiotic impression that this conversation, which is literally dripping with sexual innuendo, is going over anyone’s head. Mat accepts his drink from Stuart, feet planted together, rocking back on his heels, with an enormous shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. The goddamn Cheshire cat has nothing on him.
“So,” I say, eager to nip this kind of talk in the bud, “when do you start your new job, Mat?”
“Monday,” he replies. “Still have the whole weekend to expend my, er,energy.”
I clear my throat. “You must be looking forward to it. I know you never really loved your old job.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be great. It took a while to find the right thing, but I’m psyched. JCC is much smaller than Bowman’s, so I’ll be involved in management and working with people, not just sitting in an office crunching numbers. Thought I’d have to take a hit financially to make the change, but it’s actually turned out to be a nice little sideways move.”
“JCC will be lucky to have you,” says Will as if it’s a fact, not an opinion.
He and Trouble both look at Mat, subconsciously moving a little closer to him. Their mouths twisting and eyes misting over.
Seriously, looking at them, you’d think Mat hung the fucking moon.
Ew.
I glance over at Stuart to see how he’s coping with the full onslaught of my friends.
Looks like it’s going okay. His eyebrows are in their normal position, not raised sky-high, so that’s something. He’s been backed into a corner by Luke and Jessie. Stuart’s talking and Luke’s and Jessie’s heads bob periodically. I suspect Stuart might be undergoing an intense interrogation on dog obedience training.
Stuart catches my eye and holds it, unsmiling, for a second. Sparkling blue eyes wind their way around me. He’s a picture of rules and boundaries wrapped in an olive-green button-down shirt and jeans. His mouth slashes open. Not a lot. Just a sliver of white. My ass cheeks quiver at the sight. My hole flutters around the plug, reminding me of everything.
Who I am.
Who he is.
Who we are together, and what he’s going to do to me later.
“Anyone hungry?” I ask, voice cracking slightly.
I show everyone to their seats and help Stuart serve, dashing back and forth to the kitchen to get the plated food out as fast as possible. Conversation flows well. The placemats look good. Everyone seems fine. Looks like they’re all having a good time. Stuart looks happy, and so do the guys. Wine is flowing, and food is going down well. My jaw unclenches and my shoulders drop down a couple of inches. I take a big swig of beer, take a seat, and start to relax.
Well, I relax as much as one can while entertaining a room full of people they care deeply about, sitting on oversensitive, ruddy cheeks with a metal plug shoved up their ass.
“Everything’s delicious, Stuart,” says Luke.
