I roll my eyes, but it’s kind of nice that they think it’s cool. I don’t embarrass easy, but I felt a little weird leaving the house, and somehow the fact that two very fucking masculine, blue-collar dudes like it is helping me feel comfortable. Even if they’re queer dudes. It still counts. I wish I didn’t need that kind of validation, but baby steps. I’m working on it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, affecting indifference. “You’re just jealous no one will ever pay you to be pretty.”
“Technically, I live rent-free at Ford’s house. So he’s paying for me to look pretty. Among other things.”
Tristan flinches hard as Ford elbows him in the ribs, but it only makes him cackle like an idiot. Ford immediately reaches for a sip of his beer, a look of chronic exasperation on his face, but I can see him smiling behind it.
“So, I know where my mechanic is, where’s yours?” Tristan asks, about twelve seconds before Silas makes it over to the booth.
“Are we having a party or something?” he asks, putting one beer down in front of me and what I’m sure is a seltzer with lime and no alcohol in front of himself.
“Yes, Silas,” Tristan deadpans. “Four people in the back of a bar who will all be home by midnight definitely counts as a party.”
“Sorry, have we disappointed you since you moved here?” I ask, side-eying Tristan. “I didn’t realize you were expecting a town called Possum Hollow to have its own branch ofHedonism.”
Tristan whistles low. “Someone’s been doing research for vacation plans, I see. I didn’t realize you two were swingers.”
Silas rolls his eyes again, but there’s no heat behind it as he takes a sip of his seltzer. Tristan doesn’t know any way to have a relationship with people other than endless snark interspersed with super-serious, soul-baring talking to’s.
We’re saved from more of Tristan’s rambling when Tobias pops up out of nowhere, a feral grin on his face.
“Hey! Look who’s here. Can I sit with you? Gunnar kicked me out from behind the bar because he hates me. He’s intimidated by my natural charisma and he’s worried it’ll raise the bar for all the other guys.”
He doesn’t wait to get an answer before sliding in next to Silas. He’s a little out of breath, like he ran over here, but in a playful way, and there’s a dark flush crawling up his cheeks.
Gunnar walks over from the bar to stand next to him, having clearly heard everything that was said, despite the ambient noise. He puts a mostly empty tumbler in front of Tobias, a sad piece of lime floating at the bottom.
“Uh, I believe I said, ‘I love you, but you can’t stand behind the bar when you’re drinking.’ Oh, and also, you don’t fucking work here.”
“That’s a technicality,” Tobias replies, still grinning.
“I’m pretty sure the state liquor board has quite the hard-on for technicalities,” Tristan says, inserting himself into the conversation.
I gasp, lifting my hand up to Tristan’s forehead like I’m checking his temperature.
“T, did you just encourage rule-following? Are you well? Is he well?”
I turn to Ford, but he shrugs, still pretending he’s not amused by the conversation.
“Tristan just realizes that if I lose this bar, all y’all will have to start hanging out in your own homes at night. If he has to experience that much silence, he’ll end up spending time with his mom voluntarily just so he has someone to fight with.”
“I’d rather suck Lucifer’s nutsack, but whatever.” Tristan takes a swig of his beer, Ford now completely failing to fight back his smile.
Gunnar lets it drop, looking down at Tobias with that love-sick-puppy expression. I get it. Right now, Tobias is full of energy, red-cheeked from the alcohol, shifting in his seat as he finishes his drink and gets ready to continue the Tristan trash talk.
It was not that long ago that he was sitting right here, getting checked out by me and T after nearly being beaten to death by his abuser, convinced he had no future. This version—full of life and enthusiasm for everything—is still new enough that we all get a little emotional to see it. I can’t imagine how Gunnar must feel, watching him heal like this.
I know how I felt watching Silas recover from his dad, and it was like mainlining joy. I might have gotten addicted. Maybe that’s why I’ll do anything I can to keep him smiling.
A thread of something bittersweet hits my brain, but I ignore it. It’s a nice night. Now’s not the time for thinking through shit.
“You need another drink?” Gunnar asks Tobias, leaning down so he can murmur it close to his head.
“Nah, I’m good.” Tobias looks back over his shoulder, grinning up at him for a second before hitting him with a quick kiss on the lips. “Go do work. Be responsible. Someone has to be the sugar daddy in this relationship, and it ain’t going to be me.”
Gunnar exhales through his nose like a sexy dragon, but he doesn’t address it. He knows it would only invite more teasing.
“Anyone else? Drink?”
