“I wasn’t jerking off.” Fuck, now I’m lying, too? This isn’t me.
His eyebrows lift. He knows me too well.
“Fine. I needed a little release. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“You need more than a release.” He chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s disappointed in me. His messy, sun-streaked hair falls in his face the way it always does. He doesn’t like taking the time for regular hair cuts, and as a marine biologist, he travels a lot, so he has this tendency to buzz it super short and then just let it grow out until he can’t tolerate it anymore. The current length tells me he’s probably been out at sea for a while.
His deep tan is another indication. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off the tattoo on his upper arm. Is it a mermaid or a merman? I’ve never been able to tell, since the being is looking away, surrounded by sea life. I dream about that fucking tattoo far too often.
“You need to get laid,” Phoenix says, stretching his arms overhead and revealing a small sliver of his abs when his shirt pulls up. “So who’s the hottest teacher on campus right now? You always did go for those smart, competent types.”
My shoulders tighten with irritation. Phoenix likes toshow up unannounced and hound me about my personal life, blowing in and out of town like a whirlwind. Back when we were younger we always talked about packing up, but that was a long time ago. Now, we know better. We’re too different. I need stability, and Phoenix… Well, Phoenix is like seaweed on the tide.
“I didn’t know you were back in town.” I pull the towel off my hips and toss it on the bed, then move to the dresser, not bothering to hide my nudity. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. Hell, we used to play helicopter as teens, spinning our flaccid dicks around as fast as we could.
“My legs were turning to fins. I needed some land time and to see my best friend,” Phoenix says by way of explanation. “It’s been too long since we hit the town. And don’t think I didn’t notice you avoided my question.” He rolls onto his stomach, then tucks his hands under his chin. “So, tell me about them.”
“Who?”
“Whoever’s got you so worked up you sounded like a whale in the shower.”
“I don’t sound like a fucking whale.” I throw the boxers I was about to put on at him. He swipes them off his face and gives me a long perusal. If I don’t shift his focus, he’ll be like a dog with a bone trying to get the information out of me. I smirk.
“How’s ‘Sebastian’doing?” I use air quotes to emphasize the fact that I don’t believe Sebastian exists. Not once has Phoenix brought him around. The guy sounds like a myth. Billionaire. Hot as hell. Emotionally available, but doesn’t want to settle down. A ruse.
I suspect Phoenix uses the ploy as a defense mechanism,an excuse not to get too attached and stuck in one place. I try not to let it sting.
“Why? Are you jealous?” His gaze lingers at my crotch. A smirk lifts the corner of his lips when it twitches in response. I spin away to keep him from seeing the way it’s slowly thickening under his attention.
Phoenix has never hidden his attraction to me, but he’s attracted toeveryone. And I’ve never wanted to be just another conquest he left when the next boat came in. So ever since our one and only hook up five years ago, I pretend I’m not interested, and he pretends to be dating Sebastian.
“I’m not jealous. I was just asking about your boyfriend. It’s a very typical question between friends.” I tug on a pair of boxers. In the bedroom mirror, I see Phoenix roll onto his back with an exaggerated sigh.
“Seb is perfect, apart from the fact that he won’t let me bond him.”
“Maybe you should bring him around, and I can talk some sense into him.”
“Uh huh. Nope.” He tosses a pillow in the air and catches it. “No way am I bringing him anywhere near you. You’ll just steal him away from me.”
This is the excuse he always uses for not introducing us and the biggest reason I don’t believe Sebastian exists.
“How long are you in town this time?” I grab the towel off the bed, and run it over my hair.
Phoenix doesn’t answer right away. His head lolls to the side, and our eyes catch. “Depends.”
“On what?” I ask, mouth suddenly feeling dry.
He shrugs, but doesn’t give me more of an answer than that. For the first time in years, hisplayful, happy-go-lucky demeanor drops by a fraction. He looks almost sad. I take a step toward him, but before I can dig or offer any comfort, he’s off the bed.
“Put these on.” He grabs a pair of pants I left draped over a chair and throws them at me. “We’re going out.”
6
Hunter isn’t the only one who needs this. I need to dance, drink, and flirt. Not that I’ll take it further than flirting—no matter what I let Hunter think—but there’s nothing like a little positive attention to get you out of a bad mood.
“You can’t wear that.” I wave a hand at the tweed jacket Hunter pulls on. It doesn’t get moredean of anthropologythan a tweed jacket with elbow patches. Sure, he is who he is, but as his wingman, I can’t let him sabotage his chances before he even leaves the apartment.
“People like this look. It’s sophisticated.” He tugs on the lapels, and my heart does a little flip.
