I sigh, veering toward the familiar route to the bar. It isn’t my favorite spot, but it’s where Holli always ends up with the twins. Right now, I need someone who won’t criticize me for being an idiot.
When I pull up to Silhouette, my chest is tight, and my thoughts are conflicted. Parking my bike alongside the twins’s clown bikes, I notice Dom’s is absent. I take off my helmet, run a hand through my hair, let out a shaky breath, and go inside.
The vibe is always the same here. The smell of stale cigarettes lingers despite not being allowed inside. Loud, drunk women looking for their next relationship while the guys are looking for their next lay.
My boots scuff against the sticky floor as I scan the room. My eyes land on Holli almost instantly. He’s sitting in our usual corner booth with one arm slung lazily over the back of the seat while he nurses a beer.
Next to him is Emilio, predictably loud and animated, gesturing wildly as he’s probably recounting another of his idiotic escapades. Across from them, Massimo leans back, his hands wrapped around a pint glass, his face open and readable as always.
“Micro dick!”
Em’s voice cuts through the din of the bar like a goddamn megaphone. He waves me over, his grin wide and mischievous.
“Look who finally decided to show his face. Let me guess. Got yourself into some trouble you need bailing out of?”
My jaw tightens as I slide into the booth next to Holli, who’s taking it all in like the king on a throne.
“Not now, Em.”
“Not now?” Emilio leans forward, his grin morphing into a smirk. “That’s not a no, bro. Come on, spill it. Did you finally crash your fancy bike? Lay it down like a pussy? Or is this about a chick? That old man back of yours not able to fuck a girl? Probably can’t get it up anymore. Sucks for the chick.”
“Cool it, brother,” Massimo grumbles, his deep voice cutting through Em’s chatter like a knife. He takes a long sip of his drink before setting it down with deliberate care. “You don’t have to be a jackass every time Diego shows up.”
“What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” Emilio shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me. “Relax, man. It’s not like the world’s ending if you can’t fuck anymore. You can take up gardening or some other old man shit.”
My fists clench under the table, my patience hanging by a thread. With all this suppressed anger, I’d love to go a few rounds. Bikes are my escape, but I can easily add bar fights to the list.
“You done?” I growl, slamming my fists on the table, ready to clear the fucking thing with Em if I need to.
He opens his mouth to retort, but Massimo grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him out of the booth before he can get another word in.
“Come on, let’s grab another round,” Massimo says, steering Em toward the bar. Emilio protests half-heartedly, muttering something about me needing to lighten up and stop being such a girl, but he lets himself be pulled away. Holli watches them go with an amused expression.
“All right.” His tone is quiet, more serious than his smile. “What’s going on?”
“I fucked up.”
I let out a sharp breath, running a hand through my hair. Holli slides his beer in my direction, and I down the remaining contents.
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“Everything with you is complicated, Diego. Start talking.”
I hesitate, my fingers drumming against the edge of the table. Holli’s probably the last person I’d turn to for this kind of thing under normal circumstances, but I need to get this out of my head before it eats me alive. Back that up, the twins are the last, so perhaps Holli isn’t such a bad choice.
“It’s the professor,” I say finally, the words heavy in my throat. “We had sex.”
I can’t bring myself to say “fucked her,” even though I did.
Aggressively.
It seems disrespectful to her.
I don’t want to paint her in the wrong light with Holli, even if he’ll never meet her.
“Holy shit.” Holli raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh, this should be good.”
“It’s not good,” I snap, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s a fucking disaster.”
