But nope. I am very much lucid.
Kissing Devon.
While getting hard.
Not a little bit hard. Not maybe-this-could-be-nothing hard. Unmistakably, undeniably, my-dick-is-now-fully-alert hard.
Panic floods my system. I need to stop. I need to pull back right now before anyone notices, before this gets even weirder, before—
Devon breaks the kiss.
He pulls back, and I'm still leaning forward slightly, like my body hasn't gotten the memo that we're done.
Our breaths come out uneven. His face is flushed, lips red and slightly swollen, and his eyes are darker than before.
What the hell just happened?
Around me, the bar erupts—cheering, whistling, someone's screaming—and I jerk back like I've been electrocuted, putting distance between us.
Devon's staring at me. I'm staring at him. Neither of us is saying anything.
But then, he grins, back to his usual self, leaning over the bar sideways. "Well, then." He waggles his eyebrows. "Not bad for a—"
"What the puuuuck?" Hendrix screams, cutting out the rest of the sentence.
The team's losing their minds. Becker's on his feet, hands in the air like his team just won the Stanley Cup. Petrov's laughing so hard he's bent over. Even Washington's grinning.
I should probably say something, or at least roll my eyes and flip them off, but my brain is all static, panic, and the growing realization that I'm still half-hard and need to stay behind this bar for the foreseeable future.
I risk a glance at Devon. He's already turned away, grabbing a bottle from the shelf, back to bartending like nothing happened.
Like we didn't just make out in front of fifty people.
Like I didn't get hard from kissing him.
Well, it's not like he knows that part.I hope.
The front door opens and Marcus and Parker walk in, taking in the chaos.
My eyes automatically find Hendrix, who's already looking their way.
I am scared of that bird.
"Kiss kiss."
His wings are already spread, and he's flying before he lands on the table closest to the door, dipping the tip of his wing into some poor sap's drink.
He looks at Marcus. "KISS KISS!"
Marcus and Parker exchange looks. Then, Marcus crouches down, gets eye-level with Hendrix, and plants a kiss directly on the bird's beak.
The bar goes silent.
Hendrix blinks. Once. Twice.
Then he ruffles his feathers, makes this pleased clicking sound, and waddles away looking satisfied.
"WHY DIDN'T WE THINK OF THAT?" Becker yells.
