Chapter Fifteen
Mars
I leaned forward across the counter at the Steel Rose, biting down on my bottom lip. The bartender’s jeans clung to the firm globes of his ass, and when he turned back with some full glasses, I admired the way his shirt lifted, revealing the V of his hips.
Don’t flirt with the bartender. Don’t flirt with the bartender. Don’t flirt with the bartender.
After all, I was there on much more important business. Namely, making sure Rip and Clark made it through the evening without devolving into their high school selves again.
“You leaving a tab open?” the guy behind the bar asked me. He was about my age, with the kind of rakish good looks that probably got him in loads of trouble.
“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good.”
“Gunner,” he said, sticking his hand out. “You new around here?”
“New to town, yeah,” I said.
Gunner nodded toward the table where Rip sat, waiting for Clark to arrive. “That your boyfriend?”
I laughed. “People always think that,” I said. “But no, just my buddy from way back.”
“He’s hot,” Gunner said. “You two should come around here more often.”
I ran a hand through my hair, and all my flirting instincts kicked into gear despite myself. “I’d give you my number,” I said, “but a guy I’m dating is on his way. You should ask my friend out, though.”
Gunner laughed, then shook his head. “I’ve got two guys waiting for me at home. But I do have a little extracurricular fun from time to time…”
“Sounds relaxing,” I said.
“It is,” he answered with a wink, then turned back to the sink full of glasses he was washing.
I got back to the table and joined Rip, who was busy scowling at himself. The bar was dimly lit, with a cavernous back room and some regulars scattered about the tables. I set the glass of beer in front of him, then coughed to force his attention.
“If the goal is to show Clark that you’ve changed,” I said, “maybe try not to look like you’re about to spit nails.”
Rip chuckled to himself, then rubbed his hand across his face. “Easy for you to say,” he growled.
“Trust me,” I said. “If we can chill and have a good night, this will be a success. If you get yourself worked up, Clark will just go home thinking you’re the asshole he grew up with.”
“Hey,” Rip said sharply.
“I didn’t say you are an asshole,” I pointed out. “Just that you used to be an asshole.”
Rip rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the clarification.”
Light flashed across the bar as someone opened the door to the outside, and when I turned, I saw Clark entering. He had on a purple sweater and a pair of jeans, topped off with a gray denim jacket, and his hair was neatly styled to one side. A grin filled my face when I spotted him, and I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was all over again.
“Over here,” I said loudly as I waved my arm.
Clark joined us, and we said our awkward hellos. Rip stuck a hand out, and Clark took it like he was picking up a rattlesnake. Rip’s eyes were strained, but the corners of his mouth were pulled back in a smile. An attempt to look casual like I suggested, I figured.
As awkward as those two were together, though, I felt hyper just sitting with them. After a few weeks of nerdy hangouts with Clark and fun at home with Rip, the two of them were the centers of my Seattle life, and I felt excited about them finally hanging out together. Sure, the circumstances were hard, but all three of us were used to that kind of thing, and a big part of me believed that they would like each other, if they could get through the hurt feelings.
“How’s the store?” Rip asked. “Northstar?”
Clark adjusted his glasses. “It was fine,” he said cautiously. “Just a regular day.”
A tense silence stretched across the table. Seated with Clark to my left and Rip to my right, I could practical feel the nervous energy on my skin.
