Page 26 of Numbers Boy (Working Boys #2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Noah

MY PHONE PINGS from where it’s sitting on the coffee table, and Blake sends me a knowing look.

“Is that your boyfriend?” he singsongs, making kissy faces when I reach over to set my water down and pick up the phone. Blake knows we made it official after I stayed the night at Steve’s the other day, and he’s been taking any opportunity he can to give me crap about it.

I can’t even be mad because when I see that it is a message from Steve, or Princess, since I changed it as soon as I saw him blush at the pet name, my heart beats faster, and I just know there’s a stupid smile on my face. So, I ignore my best friend and open the text instead.

Princess: Happy Friday! I hope you’re having fun with your free evening. *kissy face emoji*

Me: Sure am. Just getting settled in for a movie and take out.

Princess: *waving emoji* hi Blake!

“Steve says hi,” I mutter, happiness filling me at the words. I had offhandedly mentioned hanging out with Blake when Steve said he didn’t need me to walk Stacy tonight, but I didn’t expect Steve to remember. He really is the sweetest man. And I love that he so easily involves Blake.

As for Blake, he tilts his head to one side, a slow smile growing on his face, like he’s not sure what to make of Steve saying hi, but likes it. “Tell him hi back. What’s he up to tonight?”

“Not sure.” I shrug and send through Blake’s greeting, then ask.

I was curious, too, but didn’t want to push since we’ve been seeing each other more days than not recently.

My favorite times of the day are when I know I might see Steve and Stacy out for a walk.

My phone pings again, this time with a picture along with the message.

Princess: The Working Boys are playing football. Somehow I ended up on the skins team *image attached*

My eyes widen and my mouth drops when I see the picture he sent.

Steve is standing next to Stu, both of them holding an arm out, football between them, with exaggeratedly serious expressions on their faces.

And just like he mentioned, Steve is shirtless, miles of smooth, ivory skin dotted with freckles on display in the March sunshine.

I barely spare Stu a second glance as I drink in the sight of my boyfriend.

I trace my eyes over his long, lean frame, pausing way too long to stare at my favorite freckle just above his belly button.

I still haven’t licked that spot, and that fact needs to change the next chance I get.

A low whistle right beside my ear startles me out of my freckle-based fantasy, and I shove Blake away from where he’s leaning over my shoulder to look at my screen.

“Damn, I forgot how cute he is. And that’s the best friend, right? The personal trainer?”

“The straight personal trainer,” I confirm, reminding Blake that Stu is off-limits.

Over the past few months, I’ve told Blake everything I’ve learned about Steve, and since Stu is important to Steve, he was important to mention.

I just didn’t expect my friend to take an interest in the other man, especially given his history.

“I can still think he’s hot. And it doesn’t hurt for the two best friends to get along since we’ll be the best men at your eventual wedding.

I’ll order us food,” is all Blake has to say.

I ignore the feeling of elation that accompanies the idea of me and Steve getting married and let the subject drop.

I go back to texting while Blake pulls out his phone to figure out dinner.

Me: Looking good, sexy. But why aren’t you and Stu on the same team?

Princess: It’s against the rules. The other guys are worried we’ll use our best friend mind powers and trample them all *eye roll emoji*

Princess: Greg and his boyfriend weren’t allowed to be on the same team either. Which is working out real well for everyone *image attached*

I chuckle at Steve’s sarcasm and at the image of two guys clearly off in their own world, the shirtless blond straddling the other one, who’s flat on his back on the ground. Before I can reply, another text comes through.

Princess: Alright, the love birds are done making heart-eyes at each other. Time to play *football emoji*

Me: Kick ass, Princess. If you need something to do after you win, you’re more than welcome to come join movie night

Princess: Thanks, handsome. I just might take you up on that offer *heart emoji*

I give a fist pump at his answer, and Blake laughs.

“I take it Steve is coming over later?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay?” I turn to my best friend, realizing I didn’t think to ask if he minded. It’s been a long time since anyone but my family has been a part of our movie nights.

Blake shakes his head, soft smile on his face. “Dude, of course that’s okay. I want to meet this guy.”

Relief courses through me, and I nod. A few hours later, we’re just finishing up our first movie when the buzzer sounds.

“I got it!” Blake says, bouncing up off the couch before I can react. He gives me a cheeky grin when he presses the button and singsongs into the microphone, “Hey, Stevie!”

“Hi, person I’m assuming is Blake,” Steve’s voice replies, a clear smile in his words. “Want to buzz me up?”

Blake does, and soon after, he tugs the door open, and my best friend and my boyfriend are face-to-face.

“Holy shit,” Steve says, green eyes sweeping over Blake, “The girls told me you had long hair, but they didn’t tell me it was absolutely gorgeous.”

I stifle a laugh as Blake visibly preens at the compliment. He’s been growing it out since high school, so it’s a point of pride for him. “Yours isn’t so bad either. I don’t think I could maintain curls that well. And the color? Did you sell your soul for that or what?”

Steve shrugs, an overly nonchalant look settling over his features as he lets his light jacket slide down his arms. “What’s a little deal with the devil in order to look good, am I right?”

Blake spins on his heel, massive grin on his face. “I like him. He can stay.”

Taking that as my opening into the conversation, I stand and open my arms toward Steve. He slips into them without hesitation and hugs me tight. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I reply, bussing a kiss to his lips and breathing in his citrusy scent. It’s overlaid with a faint hint of grass and fresh sweat, like he came here as soon after his football game as he could. I smile at that thought.

All three of us settle back onto the couch, me in the middle with Steve curled up next to me like we’ve gotten accustomed to.

“So, what are we watching next?” Steve asks, eyeing the credits rolling across the TV screen.

Blake leans forward to grab the remote off the coffee table, then switches to a different app. “I hear you like Lord of the Rings ?”

Against my side, Steve stills. He peeks his head around me to address Blake. “Are you sure? You don’t have to change your whole plans just because I’m here.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Blake says, clicking on Fellowship . “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, settling back into his spot as the opening sequence starts. “I’ve seen this a million times, so I’m probably going to be talking a bunch. Just let me know if you want me to stop.”

Neither of us has a problem with that, and when Blake jumps in with the fact that Sir Ian McKellen actually hit his head in one of the scenes, he and Steve start swapping trivia throughout the film.

Overall, the night goes quickly, filled with laughter and making me glad these two finally got to meet.

MY GIG THE next night is at a bar I’ve never been to before.

When I get there, I don’t see anyone who looks like they’re in charge, so I head to the bar to chat with one of the two people working there.

In my experience, if you don’t know something, the bartenders can always point you in the right direction.

As I get closer, I watch as the guy making drinks masterfully fends off a flirty patron and still gets a sizeable tip. Now, that’s talent.

I slide onto an empty stool near his end of the bar, and the guy turns my way. He’s got a polite smile on, but his light blue eyes are guarded until he takes in the guitar case slung over my back. Then his smile brightens, and he holds out a hand.

“You must be Noah,” he says as we shake. His voice is soft but strong enough to be heard over the din of the patrons around us. “I’m Mark. Our manager Kimberly said you’d be here around this time.”

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Mark. Is there a spot I can put my jacket and case, or is it just on the stage?” I’ve performed at places that have done it both ways, but I always feel a little bit more welcomed and put together when my stuff isn’t cluttering up the performance space.

“Absolutely.” Mark nods and turns slightly toward his fellow bartender. “Hey, Zoe, I’m going to show Noah where he can store his stuff and make sure he’s got everything he needs for tonight. You good for a few?”

“No problem, Mark. Go ahead and take your fifteen when you’re done, too.”

Mark nods an acknowledgment and then slips out from behind the bar top. I follow a few steps behind him as he leads me to a back storage room, which he unlocks with a key that he grabs from his pocket.

“Feel free to leave whatever you want back here. Kimberly and I are the only ones with the key, so you shouldn’t have to worry about anything getting stolen.”

“Thanks, Mark, I appreciate it.” I send him a smile that he returns.

“No problem. I’ll let you get settled, but let me or Zoe know if there’s anything else you need. The mic and amp on stage should be all set to go.”

“Awesome.” I nod my thanks again, and Mark leaves to take his break.

Once I stash my stuff and do a quick tune, I head back out to the main room of the bar and get everything plugged in so I can check sound levels.

Like Mark said, the sound system is ready to go, so it doesn’t take long before I start my set.