Page 1 of Gin & Sin (Last Call #2)

ONE

KIT

“Here you go, birthday boy.”

Florian, Moby’s bartender, slides a gorgeous orange and pink layered drink in my direction while my friends gather around me.

The bar has been open for more than six months, and we’re about to weather our first major semester break. We’ll find out how business goes when most students are out of town.

Indy squeezes my shoulder. “You gonna drink it or stare at it?”

“Definitely gonna drink it, ass.”

Indy chuckles, leaning on the bar next to me. “It looks tasty.”

Florian is busy pouring more of the fruity concoction into shot glasses for the guys. Hip-hop music plays from the overhead speakers, just loud enough to create a vibe but still allow for conversation. I lift my glass and take a sip, surprised by the tangy, sweet taste exploding on my tongue. I told Florian that for my signature drink, I wanted something gin based and that would lift spirits in the winter, reminding us of warmer days to come. He nailed it.

“This is incredible, Florian.”

He beams and nods. “It’s called Gin and Sin.”

“Ooh sin, huh?” Salem says from beside Indy. “Perfect name for our resident bad boy.”

“Is that what I am?”

Salem nods. “It was Indy, but he’s off the market.”

“Hey,” Ridley complains. “I thought I was the bad boy?”

Salem shakes his head. “Nope. You’re the wild one.”

“Do I even want to know your nickname for me?” Bane asks, his face scrunched in mock nervousness.

Salem chuckles. “It’s not that bad. I call you and Jerryn the twins.”

Jerryn’s cheeks turn bright red, but he shakes his head with a smile on his face. “It could be worse.”

“Way worse,” Bane says. “We’ll take it.”

“These look yummy,” Lowen coos as he takes one of the shot glasses Florian prepared. “And dangerous.”

“The fruity drinks always are,” Indy agrees.

“That’ll be good for profits,” Salem says. “And it’s so pretty, it’ll attract everyone.”

“You like it though, Kit?” Florian asks.

I nod, smiling. “Definitely worthy of a signature drink. Thanks, man.”

Florian smiles before wiping down the countertop. A few months ago, Salem had suggested we have a rotating signature drink for some fun marketing. It’s pretty genius. So far, we have a whiskey cocktail for Indy and the infamous dirty martini for Lowen. Now I have mine too. Gin and Sin. Fitting. I’m always down for an evening of sinful pleasure.

“We’re getting old,” Bane complains. “Two of you are forty-one.”

“Age is nothing but a number,” Salem says.

“Says the guy who isn’t even thirty yet.” Ridley winks.

“Dating the guy who is forty-one,” Salem replies. “And has zero trouble keeping up with his young boyfriend.”

Indy gazes at Salem like a lion watching his prey. Those two are so crazy about each other it’s kind of wild. I never thought Indy Hart would turn in his fuckboi card, but one look at Salem and he was a goner. Not gonna lie, ever since those two turned into something real, there’s been an emptiness in me I can’t shake.

I’m not ready for picket fences and wedding bells, but it would be nice to find just one guy I want to keep around for more than a few hours. The constant rotation of hot young college twinks is good for my ego, but it’s wearing on my mood. They don’t have anything interesting to talk about, and other than being eager and down for anything, I have nothing in common with any of them.

It suited me fine until I had a front row seat to Indy and Salem falling in love. My close friend of nearly twenty years is the same guy he always was, but his energy is calmer now. He radiates happiness, and the way his face lights up whenever he sees Salem makes me want to know what that feels like too.

I just doubt it could happen for me. Unlike Indy, I wouldn’t know what I wanted if it slapped me in the face. I’ve probably met ‘The One’ a hundred times but passed by them for a quick thrill. What I think I need is a guy like me—older, wiser, but still down for a good time. I’ve never imagined myself in a long-term relationship, much less thought about trying to find one, but more than a one-night stand might be kind of nice.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” Lowen asks, nudging my arm with his.

“Nothing important.”

I turn around to watch the happenings in the bar. We’re getting close to the time when the diners leave and the party crowd rolls in. Minutes from now, some cute, doe-eyed college twink with pretty lips and eager energy will bat his eyelashes at me and I’ll fall for it again, trading potential long-term bliss for a quick nut.

My gaze settles on Indy and Salem, swaying together as if in their own little world, and envy tugs at my chest. I should hold out for the real thing. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my perfect type will walk through the door, young and supple, hopeful and sweet. Just like it happened for Indy. A guy can hope.

“Hey, handsome. Can I get past you to the bar?”

I turn to face the voice, stepping back slightly. Sure enough, it’s another pretty college guy. This one has shoulder-length hair that’s dyed purple, blue eyes, and a glossy smile. He’s wearing a mesh tank even though it’s cold outside, and tight white jeans.

“Sure thing, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

“I don’t take drinks from strangers, but thank you.” He licks his bottom lip, making it very clear he doesn’t want me to leave.

“I’m not a stranger. I own the place.”

He raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Hmm. I guess that means I can trust you not to take advantage of me.”

“I would never.” I lean over the bar to motion to Florian. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Sex on the Beach. Cocktail, not shot.”

Oh yeah. He’s flirting.

Florian takes his order and hustles off to make it while I lean in a little closer. “What’s your name?”

“Michael. Yours?”

“Kit.”

Michael drags his hand down the front of my t-shirt, letting out a slight hum of approval. “Nice to meet you, Kit.”

“You go to the university?”

Michael nods. “Sure do. Graduate program.”

“Oh? What are you studying?”

“Finance.”

Florian drops the drink off and I gesture so he knows I’m buying.

“So, you’re what… late twenties?”

“Mid, thank you very much. You’re in your…” He pauses, tilting his head as he looks me up and down. “Thirties?”

“Cute. How do you feel about older guys?”

“I like them just fine, Kit.” He glances over his shoulder. “But I’m here with friends celebrating an engagement.” He steps closer so his chest is nearly touching mine. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever I want.”

“I’ll check in before we leave?”

“Please do.”

Michael wraps his lips around his straw and takes a sip. “Ooh, delicious. See ya later, Kit.”

“See ya.”

I watch him saunter away, swaying his hips. As soon as he’s gone, I deflate a little bit. I already know the drill. I’ll indulge in whatever he wants to give me and wake up hoping he’s gone and not expecting a repeat. The cycle is never-ending, but I wouldn’t know how to end it unless I plan on being celibate, and that doesn’t sound appealing at all.

For once, I wish someone interesting would walk through the door. Maybe that’s what it would take to get me to settle down for a little while. I guess for tonight, I’ll have to make do with another gorgeous guy I won’t remember a month from now.

There are worse problems to have.