Page 34 of Him

A part of me hopes Sam is one of those sensitive egomaniacs who can’t handle losing, but Mr. I-Teach-Second-Grade seems delighted by Wes’s awesomeness. He simply stands there and whistles as my buddy circles the table like the pool shark he is, even breaking out in applause after Wes cleans the table without once letting Sam take another shot.

Sam accepts his defeat by chugging the rest of his beer, then slamming the empty bottle on the ledge behind the pool table. “Another one?” he asks Wes.

Wes glances at me as if to check if I’m cool with it. I just shrug. I know there’s no prying Sam away from Wes right now. He’s too fucking enamored with my buddy.

They play another game.

I order another beer.

They play a third game.

I order a third beer.

The drunker I get, the handsiertheyget. Sam’s palm grazes the small of Wes’s back as he leans in to line up his next shot. Wes glances over his shoulder and winks at Sam, his gray eyes gleaming.

Eventually I wander back to the table, alcohol buzzing in my bloodstream as annoyance builds in my gut. Fuck this Sam guy. I take it back—he’s not decent. He seems to have no problem monopolizing my best friend’s time. Doesn’t even give a shit that they’re both ignoring me.

And he won’t stop touching Wes.

My fingers curl around the beer bottle. When Sam steps closer to Wes and whispers something in his ear, my knuckles turn white as my grip tightens. Is he asking Wes if he wants to get out ofhere? Telling him how much he wants to screw him right now? Offering to blow him in the bathroom?

I drain the rest of my beer. Yeah, I’m buzzing hard now. And the alcohol has done something to my brain. Short-circuited it somehow, flooded it with memories I don’t usually allow to surface.

The soundtrack of that last day at camp four years ago runs through my mind.

“What are you waiting for, Ryan? Suck it already.”

“Fuck, Wes, you’re making me come.”

It bothers me that I remember every word I said to him. I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty phenomenal blowjobs these past four years, but can I tell you what was said during them? Can I repeat, verbatim, every single word I uttered to those chicks? To Holly? Every dirty command that left my mouth?

No, I can’t.

My gaze shifts back to the pool table, locking on Wes’s mouth. My dick stirs, remembering that mouth wrapped around it.

Shit, maybe I’m more drunk than buzzed.

Sam and Wes’s laughter wafts toward me. Looks like Sam finally won a game, and knowing Wes, he’s taunting the guy about it being a fluke. Or hell, maybe Wes let him win. Maybe he decided to throw the guy a bone before he…throws the guy a bone.

My chest goes rigid. The thought of Wes hooking up with someone tonight pisses me off.

Jealous? a little voice mocks.

Screw that. I’m not fucking jealous. I don’t care what Wes does—orwhohe does—but we were supposed to hang out tonight. Me and him. Not him and some random guy he met through a hook-up app.

I abruptly hop off my stool and make my way back to the pool table. They’re not even playing anymore, just standing closetogether, chuckling about something. Sam’s hand rests on Wes’s hip. A casual gesture. Light, harmless.

But it sparks resentment in my gut. Why the hell is he touching him? He doesn’t even know him. Presumptuous asshole.

“Ready to go?” I raise my voice, because neither of them notices me standing there.

Wes blinks. “Now?”

I answer through clenched teeth. “Yes. I want to take off.” I can’t help but offer a cool look. “You’re my ride, remember?”

Wariness floats through his expression. Then he gives a quick nod and turns to Sam. “Thanks for the games, man. Looks like we’re taking off now.”

The other guy’s disappointment is impossible to miss. He glances at me, then back at Wes. “Uh, yeah…sure. Let me just grab your number before you go?”