Page 50 of As the Years Pass

I shake out of it and gesture for Adam to take his turn.

“Stripes, Adam!” I shout when I see him aiming for the solid green ball.

He barks out a laugh. “Right, sorry.”

He shoots toward the yellow striped ball and gets it in, in some wild turn of events because in no way should that thing have gone into the pocket. He pumps a fist into the air, then takes another turn and misses—badly. That makes more sense.

We lose this game, just like all the others, and do the walk of shame together to the bar to get the guys another round of drinks.

“I’m tired of losing,” he complains as we wait for the guys’ beers.

“Same.” The bartender hands us the drinks and we bring them over to the guys and let them know we’re done for the night. “We could go back to my place and play video games,” I suggest.

Adam smiles around his glass as he takes a sip. “Mortal Kombat?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”

“We’ll need to call for a ride.”

I pull out my phone and pull up the app. “It’ll be here in twelve minutes.”

We suck down our drinks and head to the bathroom. It’s a single-person bathroom, so we make a line in the narrow hallway to wait for the occupant to finish up.

A woman comes out of the girl’s bathroom across the hall, and I tug on Adam so he gets out of the way.

He stumbles, falling into me, his body pressing against mine. His gaze falls to my lips, and his tongue drags along his bottom one. My grip on his arm tightens, and I can’t stop myself. I lean in, needing to taste his lips. It’s beensolong, and I can’t take it anymore.

The men’s door is yanked open so hard it slams against the wall and snaps me out of my daze. I jerk away and hurry into the bathroom. It’s only when I’m closing the door that I realize he snuck in here with me.

“What are you doing?” I ask carefully, my heart beating a little faster.

Adam slips between me and the door. The lock snapping shut echoes through the small space. He doesn’t say a word, just watches me. His breathing grows heavier, or maybe that’s mine. Then, his hand is on my hip, searing my skin through my shirt.

“Adam…”

His gaze darts to my lips again. “Emmet.”

“What are you doing?” I repeat, this time slower, breathier.

Every part of me wants this, but there’s something in the back of my brain sayingnot now; not like this.

We’ve both been drinking, and I don’t think my heart can take an excuse, come tomorrow morning. I know him well enough to know that’s what I’ll get.

He’s still staring at my lips, eager for something I have to offer. As the seconds pass, his gaze darkens, until he looks like an animal ready to pounce. His hand comes up, fingers brushing along my throat, his thumb dragging along my bottom lip. I suckin a sharp breath, all the blood in my body flooding to my dick and making me dizzy.

“They’re still so soft,” he whispers in awe.

I’m not breathing. I can’t. My heart is pounding and my body is trembling, but I can’t fucking breathe. I’m terrified to move, to break this spell, to make him stop doing this, as much as I know he should.

He leans in, his lips less than an inch from mine, so close I can feel his breath, and then someone bangs on the door, startling us both. I step back as his eyes fall closed, and he sighs. I walk to the urinal to piss, then wash my hands. When he doesn’t move to use the bathroom, I unlock the door and pull it open.

“What the fuck?” some guy says when we both walk out.

“I was sick, asshole,” I grumble, shoving past him and heading to the front.

Adam and I wait under the awning for the car to pick us up, neither one of us mentioning what happened in the bathroom.

So, what? I’m just supposed to bring him to my house and kick his ass in Mortal Kombat afterthat?How is that possible?