Leah crinkled her nose, choking through her laughter. “What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t act all innocent now, Jäger. The bulge in his pants the other day when we were playing rugby wassoobvious.”
Alcohol on an empty stomach was probably helping, but this wasn’t an I-won’t-remember-tomorrow boozed version of him. Chris was just blunt as fuck. Probably the reason he didn’t have many female friends—most women couldn’t stand his vulgar tongue, at least not in a conversation. But with Leah, it was different. He could be himself, no judgment. She was like a dude with tits.
“If you like it so much, why don’t you fuck him yourself? You’re obviously obsessed with Aussie dick.”
“Doubt he’s into dudes.”
Leah lifted a brow. “Are you?”
“Right now, any tight hole would do.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“I have needs.”
“You’re a whore.”
“And proud of it.”
“Go tell him.” Leah motioned towards Ethan with a palm up. “He might surprise you.”
“Nah, I’m too comfy over here.” He leaned back.
“What you guys talking about?” Marc plonked himself in the empty chair next to Leah, a spliff between his lips.
“How well-hung Ethan is,” Chris answered.
“Jesus, poor guy. His ears must be ringing like crazy,” Leah said.
“He really is.” The bassist ignored her remark as he passed her the joint. “I’d fuck him,” he flat out admitted while putting his hair into a low ponytail. Marc usually kept these kinds of comments to himself. He was way more respectful than Chris, but he was clearly too high and drunk to behave. “I like them brattier, but he’s defo the whole package; handsome, talented, andwell-equipped.”
A burning sensation coiled in Chris’s stomach. The same feeling he used to have when he was a teen and his insecurities kicked in, making him feel possessive of his friends.
He knew it was absurd, irrationally so. Yet every time Luca and Leah had accepted an outsider into their friend circle, the thoughts that this new person would steal them from him, shadowed everything else. He would even sulk for weeks. And this trait apparently hadn’t gotten better with age.
So, yeah, Chris didn’t like Marc praising that guy this way. Much less when he’d been recently getting offers from other bands.
“You’re too high,Marco Polo.” Leah patted his head as if he were a puppy. “Stop talking.”
“It’s true.” Marc reclined and intertwined his fingers on his stomach.
“You’d fuck anything with two legs and boobs or a cock,” Chris retorted, trying to ignore the ridiculous idea that he’d leave him and Buried Alive for another band. They were really good friends, and he was one of the original founders. Deep down he knew Marc wouldn’t abandon them like that, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.
“No need to get jealous, Schmidt. I could do you, too.”
“Thanks for the offer, but no.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” He waved dismissively as he took the weed Leah was handing him.
“Too bad. I bet you’d be a brat.” Marc flashed the most alluring smirk ever.
Chris had never cared about admitting when someone was pretty or hot. Actually, he and Leah used to play a game when they were still in high school where they’d rate people’s sexiness, whether they were guys or girls. He had eyes, and this man with his perfectly straight nose, sharp jaw, sculpted muscles, and silky, long hair took beauty to another level. In another life, he’d probably have been a model for classical Greek artists.
“Do you want me to leave you two alone?” Leah quipped.
