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I laugh, shaking my head at him. This right here is why he’s my best friend. The easy back-and-forth, the teasing, the way he knows exactly what to say to get under my skin, but never pushes too far. It’s familiar and comfortable in a way I can’t put into words.

I look around the bar to see who else we know here, and I immediately regret it when my eyes find Pete’s.

“Logan! Ryder! You’re up next. I need some real competition,” Pete calls out, pointing dramatically at us with a dart in hand. That man loves darts. He’s here every night just to play, and he always beats everyone who dares compete with him. I’ve played a few times to appease him, but most nights I try to stick to talking to Logan instead of getting my ass handed to me.

Logan shakes his head, setting his glass down. “Not happening. My hands are for designing, not darts.”

I grin, leaning forward. “You sure that’s what your hands are for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Logan shoots back with a wink. “Plus, watching you embarrass yourself is way more entertaining. Go on now. Pete’s waiting.”

Mia chimes in as she slides a beer to a guy in flannel. “If you two spent half as much time playing as you do running your mouths, Pete might actually have some competition around here.”

“Exactly!” Pete shouts, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“We’re good tonight, man. Maybe next time,” I call back.

“I’m holding you to that!” Pete yells, smiling as he turns back to the board.

When I turn back to face Logan, he starts talking about work and decompressing from his week. Every time he complains about his job as a graphic designer for a local company, it sounds like hell to me. I guess you don’t naturally decompress by talking about the good, easy-going clients, though.

“She told me she wanted a logo that wasapproachable yet exclusive,” Logan grumbles. “Explain that to me, Ryder. How can something be both? It’s like saying,make it hot, but cold at the same time.”

“Sounds like a winning brand strategy to me,” I declare to rile him up.

“Shut up. You’re lucky your audience doesn’t get to tell you how to sound,” Logan reasons, pointing his beer at me.

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “That’s because I already give my audienceexactlywhat they want. The personalized fan mail and five-star reviews prove it.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “How could I forget, you’re just out here stealing hearts through a microphone.”

“Damn right I am,” I smirk. “And yours was free before I ever hit record.”

He groans. “I set myself up for that one.”

“Sure did.” I wink at him—mostly for the bit, but also because this is just how we are.

We’ve always had this kind of easy banter. Maybe it’s just the years of friendship. Or maybe it’s because Logan’s bi and doesn’t seem to mind it when I toe the line between teasing and flirting. It’s never serious—we both know that—but it makes the playful back-and-forth more fun.

Logan drains the last of his beer before waving Mia over for another round. I let my gaze wander around the room again to see who else is here while we wait, and that’s whenthey land on a guy at the end of the bar I’ve never seen before.

He looks a little older than us, in his thirties, with dark hair that’s clean cut, wearing a worn-in leather jacket. The thing that really catches my attention, though, is that his dark gaze is locked right on me. It’s not a passing glance, either. His eyes seem to linger on me, and he doesn’t look away when he notices I’m looking back at him. Most people would break eye contact the second they’re caught staring, but he seems unfazed, and something about it feels off. Strange enough to make my skin prickle and for discomfort to set in.

“Earth to Ryder,” Logan sighs, nudging my foot under the table. “You good?”

I look away from the man at the bar and turn back to him, shaking off whateverthatjust was. “Yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

He looks at me for a beat longer than usual, like he’s making sure I’m truly okay, but drops it a moment later. “Don’t scare me like that, man. You’re the only one who listens when I spiral about work shit.”

I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, Mia appears with two fresh pints.

“Another round for the dynamic duo,” she says, sliding the glasses onto the table.

“Thanks, Mia.” Logan grins, nudging one toward me. “Maybe now he’ll focus.”

“My bad,” I mutter, giving him a faint smile as I lift the glass. “Cheers.”

I try to focus on the drink in my hand and what Logan is saying, but it’s so hard because I can’t ignore the feeling of someone staring at me. It feels like this guy’s eyes are burning a hole into the side of my head.