The physical labor was a nice change from poking around computer code all day long.
“Is something else bothering you?” Lincoln asked.
“No.” Other than his lingering feelings for Van, and not knowing if he wanted to return to his IT job later in the year, things were actually okay for a change. “I miss Benji, I guess. But I always miss him when he’s on the road.”
“I get that.” Lincoln started arranging bowls of chips to his liking. “It’s hard when the one you love is a thousand miles away for half the year.”
Joshua rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you get it for sure. You with the boyfriend who lives a couple of blocks away, when he’s not overnighting it here.”
Annoyed for no good reason, he stalked into the living room and fiddled with the iPod dock and speaker that would serve as their entertainment for the night. Guests were due in the next ten minutes or so, and Lincoln had the food under control. A couple of decorations had been tossed up, including a huge helium balloon in shape of the number 20, and another that said “Happy Birthday.”
The living room was also spotless, thanks to Lincoln’s obsessive need to keep a clean house. Mostly Joshua didn’t mind it, but sometimes he didn’t appreciate a lecture from his roommate about a single dirty cup in the sink. He fluffed the pillows on the couch, mostly for something to do until people arrived. Even though the party wasn’t a surprise, Emmett had been told an arrival time thirty minutes later than everyone else. It was Lincoln’s way of making a fuss over his boyfriend by giving him a grand entrance.
Emmett would probably blush bright red and try to hide, but the affection in Lincoln’s plan was obvious. Sometimes the pair was nauseatingly adorable together.
The doorbell rang. Fate decided to mock Joshua that night, because the first three guests to arrive were Adrian, Melody, and Van. Joshua hated the lurch his traitorous heart gave at the sight of Van, dressed up in khaki pants and a black polo that made every angle of his face sharper, more distinct.
“Hey, you,” Melody said, all chirpy voice and sunny smiles. She handed off a bottle of Smirnoff. “My contribution to the BYOB.”
“Thank you.” Joshua moved so they could come inside. He left the storm door open, the screen door shut, so people didn’thave to keep using the bell. The night was mild enough that it wouldn’t affect the electric bill too much.
A waft of Van’s spicy cologne prickled across Joshua’s nose, and perked his dick up. He ignored it and took the vodka into the kitchen, adding it to the small assortment of liquor and mixers. No one expected a drunken kegger tonight, but he and Lincoln wanted folks to let loose a bit if they chose to. With Van there and already affecting him, Joshua was planning on a couple of drinks.
He nearly cracked the bottle right away to steady his buzzing nerves.
“Melody, right?” Lincoln asked, head tilted at the bottle. “She’s a sucker for vanilla vodka.”
“Who’s a sucker now?” Melody asked as she breezed into the kitchen, a stunning figure in a tight blue dress, her curly brown hair perfectly styled. Just enough makeup to highlight her pretty features. She looped her arms around Lincoln for a hug. “Hey, honey. How’s the head?”
“Very good, actually, thanks for asking. How’s the apartment hunt going?”
“Ugh, slowly. But Van’s been so sweet about letting me crash on his couch while I find a place that’s right.”
Joshua left them to their conversation, only to find a few more people had arrived. Van seemed to know them, so they probably frequented Off Beat, and Joshua tried to remember names. The living room quickly began filling with guests, so he turned on a party playlist on the iPod. It helped tune out the sound of Van’s voice, of which Joshua was hyper-aware.
Large gatherings like this were not Joshua’s forte. He’d attended his share of work functions over the years, and he’d spent most of them near the bar, trying to blend into the wall. Occasionally he’d find a hookup. Tonight that wasn’t possible,and he was still working on the whole “making new friends” thing.
Because that worked so well with Van.
Joshua went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink.
Van had tried not to stare at Joshua when he first let them into the house. The guy cleaned up well; even dressed down in tight jeans and a blue Fading Daze band tee, he was a walking temptation. He was also nervous, if his careful avoidance of speaking with Van was any clue. Not that Joshua had a reason to be nervous around Van. Van didn’t poach on other people’s boyfriends.
Didn’t matter that watching Joshua from across the living room threatened to give him wood. Van engaged in conversation with folks he knew from Off Beat and other venues. Some were aspiring musicians who took advantage of the open-mike nights and occasional karaoke. A few were really good, so it made sense that they’d gravitated toward Lincoln. The guy had connections.
The birthday boy arrived at seven thirty, and Lincoln and Melody immediately fussed over him, much to Emmett’s red-faced chagrin. The kid hated attention, but he’d bear it for Lincoln, who wanted to do something fun for his boyfriend. Van had never had anyone fuss over him like that on his birthdays, not even when he was a kid. Back then he got a hug, a card, and a savings bond. Bonds he hadn’t taken with him when he left, because he didn’t know where the old man had stashed them while they matured.
Whatever. He shoved away the old, timeworn memories of his former life. They didn’t matter.
Drinks were passed around, shouted offers made. Van was standing near the archway leading into the kitchen when Emmett appeared, smiling, with a red cup of something in his hands. “You want a drink? Adrian’s a good mixer.”
He felt Joshua’s presence before Joshua said, “Van doesn’t drink.” He came up on Van’s left side, his own cup clutched in one hand. Eyes bright and rosy cheeked, whatever Joshua was drinking was strong.
Emmett frowned. “Sure he does. I’ve seen him.”
Joshua turned to Van with a confused frown that only made him look more fuckable. “You told me you don’t drink.”
Van’s skin rippled with awareness of Joshua’s proximity. “I have a drink on special occasions, so maybe a few times a year,” Van replied. “For a bartender in his mid-twenties, that’s practically not drinking at all.”
