“Remind me again why you’re studying biology instead of something normal?” Sage asked.
“Because I enjoy torturing myself with lab reports.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Engineering’s no picnic either.”
Sage shrugged, mouth curving into a smile. “At least my disasters only blow fuses.”
The food arrived twenty minutes later, steaming hot and fragrant. Bryce inhaled the delicious aroma and smiled. It was just what he needed after the day he’d had. They spread it across the coffee table with a stack of napkins and cracked open a couple more beers. They spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind.
By the time the clock struck midnight, the cartons were empty, and the bottles had multiplied. Bryce’s head was pleasantly fuzzy, and he laughed at anything, even if it wasn’t that funny.
“You ever think maybe we just haven’t found the right women?” he asked, wiping beer from his chin.
“Probably.” Sage leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed. “Or they haven’t found us tolerable.”
Bryce snorted. “We’re very tolerable.”
Sage tilted his head, smiling faintly at Bryce. “Sure.”
Bryce studied him for a second. The smile softened the sharp lines of Sage’s face, made his gray eyes look almost silver. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction,” Bryce murmured.
Sage raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“I don’t know.” Bryce leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thigh and grinned at Sage. “We keep dating women who dump us. Maybe we should switch it up. Try men.”
Sage burst out laughing and shook his head. “You’re drunk.”
“Yep.” Bryce pointed his beer at him. “So are you.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m kissing you, Jones.”
Bryce grinned wider. “Why not? You’re not bad looking.”
“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” Sage rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Say I’m wrong.”
“I’m not feeding your ego.”
Bryce smirked. “Come on. Science experiment. Test the theory.”
Sage shook his head. “Pretty sure that’s not how science works.”
“Sure it is. Hypothesis, experiment, conclusion.” He leaned closer. “I hypothesize you’re a good kisser.”
Sage laughed, shaking his head again. “You’re an idiot.”
“Drunk idiot,” Bryce corrected. “I am most definitely a drunk idiot.”
“Same thing.”
Bryce closed the distance, his grin crooked. “Prove it.”
Bryce’s eyes dropped to Sage’s lips, and before Sage could respond, Bryce pressed his lips to Sage’s.
The kiss was quick, clumsy, and full of beer. For a heartbeat, nothing existed but the warmth of Sage’s mouth and the faint taste of hops. Then Sage made a startled sound against him—half laugh, half breath—and Bryce pulled back, blinking like the world had tilted slightly.
