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Another lie. My belly cramped with guilt, and I hated it. Felt like I was condemning my ghoul soul—already a questionable concept, honestly—by lying to someone as sweet as Ricky.

“I’m sure it’s still rad.” He nudged me again. “Especially if you’re the one making it.”

I huffed a little sound that was supposed to be a laugh. I hoped he didn’t notice that it was lacking its most fundamental component—humor. The guilt was getting to me. That door in my mind was bulging outward again, the monster within trying to escape and ruin everything. “You’re too fucking sweet, Ricky.”

He was. He was perfect. My perfect, sweet little sugar muffin.

Our hands were still linked, and I felt him give mine a gentle squeeze. His skin was hot in the best way, and I just wanted to snuggle into him and let him keep me warm. Instead, I tugged his jacket tighter around me with my free hand and discreetly breathed in another hit of his scent.

I was going to do everything in my power to stop him noticing I still had this jacket so I could go home with it. Just so I could wear it all night in bed.

And jerk off.

“I’ll still see you tomorrow though, right?” he said, bringing the conversation back to work. The hopeful edge to his voice made my heart fucking melt right in my chest.

“For sure.” I squeezed his hand back. “Gonna be pretty bogus closing up tomorrow without you.”

Honestly, I was gonna hate it. I could already feel myself getting ready to be in a bad mood tomorrow evening after Ricky left work. Then I was going to make sure I stayed in a bad mood all night, and the following morning, until I saw him again.

Maybe I’d keep going to Liz’s little office to bug her constantly with inane non-problems, just to punish her for unknowingly ruining my day by scheduling Ricky on a different shift to me. That seemed like an appropriate response, and a decent use of my time.

“We’re both closing on Saturday, though,” I said with embarrassing eagerness, realizing a split second too late that I’d just outed myself as a very softcore stalker. One who just liked to keep track of his work schedule, that was all. Then I decided I didn’t care. “So maybe we could—”

I stopped mid-sentence when a shout came from nearby, much closer than I’d realized anyone was to us. We’d made it a lot farther down the beach without really noticing, and now the glow of that fire from the party that had previously been in the distance was much bigger and brighter.

And the voice we’d just heard yelling something was kind of familiar.

Familiar in a heinously bad way.

Chapter Ten

Elliot

Ricky must’ve recognized that voice too, because he squeezed my hand hard for a split second, and I squeezed back before we both reluctantly let go and drifted a couple of inches away from each other. A few seconds later, a big stupid frame I knew all too well was lumbering toward us in the dark, stumbling and swaying on the sand.

“Yo, dudes, either of you got a smoke I can—hold up. No way.”

I shoved my hands into the pockets of Ricky’s jacket and scowled as Brett gawked at us from several feet away. His eyes were bloodshot and hazy, and he was still swaying even while stationary. Totally wasted.

He was staring between us, back and forth, as if his little pea brain simply couldn’t understand why we’d ever be hanging out together. Eventually, his unfocused eyes tried to settle on Ricky, effectively dismissing me, and a lopsided grin that made him look even more stupid stretched his mouth.

“Rick, no way! You decided to come after all.”

“His name is Ricky,” I said.

Brett ignored me, still grinning at Ricky. “That’s epic, bro. You want a beer?”

Ricky stiffened beside me. “Uh, no. I forgot you said you were having a beach party. Elliot and I were just—”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry, bro, but it’s kind of like, a closed party?” Brett was looking at me now. Addressing me. Obviously. Even though he was slurring most of his words, he still managed to sound disdainful, like the mere sight of me was threatening to ruin his night. When he looked back at Ricky, that stupid lopsided grin reappeared. “Dude, Tiff’s girlfriends are gonna be stoked you’re here.”

Ricky made a face before he could stop himself, but Brett was too wasted to notice. “Why? I’ve never met them before. Besides, I’m not coming to your party, Brett. I’m hanging out with Elliot.”

It was like I no longer existed to the drunk fratbro dick in front of us. Like I was invisible. He just ignored the last part of what Ricky had said and forged ahead.

“’Cause I told ’em about you, duh! Said I had a new homeboy at work. They all wanna meet you.”

“No. I’m good. I’m hanging out with Elliot.” Ricky’s tone was brusque now. I wished I could take his hand and squeeze it again.