10. Nicholas #2
Brianna ignored the ribbing, her hazel eyes bright with a combination of amusement and sincerity.
“To us,” she began, looking around the table.
“To showing up for each other, even if it’s just for one night out of the year.
And to keeping this crazy, ridiculous friendship going no matter where we are. ”
“Cheers to that,” Faith chimed in, clinking her glass against Brianna’s. “I’m impressed with us."
"Here’s to us being disasters in our personal lives, but absolute legends as a squad," I chimed in.
“And,” Brianna continued, her grin turning sly, “to finally finding love in the new year because, let’s face it, the lot of us are a disaster in that department.”
“Oh, come on,” Wyatt groaned. “Do we really need to bring up our collective lack of game right now?”
Kyle smirked over his mug. “Speak for yourself. I’ve got a very active dating life, thank you.”
“Active isn’t the same as successful,” Parker quipped, dodging the lime wedge Kyle flicked at him.
I laughed along with the group, the warmth of their banter a welcome distraction from the weight I’d been carrying. For a moment, it felt easy to be here, surrounded by the people who’d known me before life got so damn complicated.
It was a rare night when everything felt simple—just friends, drinks, and the comfort of old connections. Even if the ache for something—or someone—more still lingered in the back of my mind.
Before long, the dance floor was calling their names, and four headed off, leaving Kyle and me at the booth. The upbeat music and laughter of the crowd filled the space as I sipped my drink, watching them disappear into the sea of moving bodies.
Kyle didn’t waste any time. “You’re quiet tonight, Nicholas. You okay?”
I gave him a tight smile. “Yeah, just not in the mood to dance, I guess.”
He leaned across the table, eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, you gotta at least try to have some fun tonight. Dance. Hook up with someone. I’m pretty sure you can find someone here to—"
“Please,” I cut him off, laughing but rolling my eyes. “You’re worse than some of the residents at the home, you know that?”
Kyle tilted his head, momentarily confused, before his expression shifted into mock offense. “Me? No way.”
“Yes, you. I know all of you mean well, but none of you are subtle at all.” I shook my head. “Ughhh!”
Kyle’s grin widened. “Ooh, retirement community drama? This I have to hear.”
“It’s not drama.” I waved him off, leaning back against the booth. “Some of the residents, particularly Beverly and Mrs. Thompson, have this ridiculous idea that I’m…” I trailed off, my words faltering.
Kyle arched a brow, his grin stretching wider. “That you’re what?”
I sighed, staring into my drink. “That I’m into the new doctor. Markus Webber.”
He lit up like a Christmas tree. “They’re trying to set you up Parent Trap-style? Are you serious? Tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell!”
“Does Dr. Webber know about this?”
“Of course not.”
Kyle leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “So… are you into him? I bet he’s hot.”
“No, I’m not into him,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
“Oh, but he’s hot, isn’t he?”
“He’s… alright.”
Kyle wasn’t buying it for a second. “Come on, Nicholas. Hot doctor. Small town. This is a romance novel waiting to happen.”
I groaned, letting my head fall into my hands.
Somewhere in the distance, the DJ switched songs, and the bass thumped loud enough to vibrate through the table.
A quick glance toward the dance floor confirmed Brianna and the others were still out there, laughing and spinning each other around like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Kyle tapped his fingers on the table, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “So, hypothetically speaking, if you were into him, what’s stopping you?”
“It’s not hypothetical. I’m not into him.”
“Uh-huh.” He propped his chin on his hand. “But if you were…”
Another song ended. The crowd erupted into cheers. My drink was half empty before I could respond, and Kyle hadn’t stopped looking at me like I was the juiciest piece of gossip he’d stumbled across in months.
“I hate you,” I muttered.
He laughed, clearly unaffected. “You love me. Now spill. Tell me about the hot doctor.”
“Did I just hear ‘hot doctor’?” Brianna’s voice cut through the conversation, catching me by surprise and making my heart leap into my throat.
She slipped into the booth, her cheeks flushed from dancing, and the others followed close behind, still buzzing with energy. Wyatt set a tray of sodas on the table and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “What’s this about a hot doctor?”
I groaned, sinking lower in my seat. “I never said he was hot.”
“Not denying it though,” Kyle muttered.
Wyatt grinned. “Oh, this just got interesting.”
Brianna clapped her hands together. “Alright, Nicholas. Start talking.”
I buried my face in my hands again, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I could say something,” Wyatt added, laughing when I glared at him. “He is hot… smoking hot. I saw him when I visited Grandpa a couple of days ago. Total DILF vibes.”
Faith choked on her drink, laughing so hard she nearly dropped her glass. “Wait, wait, wait. Are they trying to set you up with a Daddy?”
Heat flushed my face as all five of them dissolved into laughter. “First of all, no. Second of all, ew.”
Kyle slung an arm around my shoulders, grinning broadly. “Come on, Nicky. A Daddy might be exactly what you need. Someone to spoil you, keep you in line—”
“I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself in line, thanks,” I snapped, shrugging him off. “I don’t need anyone hovering over me, telling me what to do.”
Brianna tilted her head, mock-serious. “But what if it’s less about telling you what to do and more about... taking care of you?”
I groaned again, louder this time. “You’re all insane. I like my independence, alright? I don’t need someone to ‘take care of me.’”
Faith winked. “You’d make an adorable boy, though.”
“Stop. Right now.” I drained the last of my stout, setting the empty glass on the table. “I am changing the subject before I have to hurt you all. Who’s coming to dance?”
“Running away from your feelings already?” Kyle teased, but I didn’t stick around to answer. I pushed through the crowd toward the dance floor, needing to lose myself in the music before their jokes burrowed too deep.
The beat throbbed, drowning out the buzz of conversation. I let the music carry me, swaying and moving until the tension in my chest began to ease. A few strangers tried to dance close, and I humored them for a while, but it felt hollow. Forced.
My friends would say I was overthinking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that dancing with anyone else right now wasn’t what I wanted.
Who was I kidding? I knew exactly what—or who—I wanted. And it pissed me off.
By the time the night ended, my legs were sore, my shirt clung to my back, and I was more tangled up than when I arrived. All the noise and laughter had done nothing to quiet the storm in my head.
When I got home, the house felt too quiet. Too empty. The kind of silence that settled in my bones and refused to let go. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer.
But it didn’t.
All I could see was Markus. That sharp jawline, the faint stubble that framed his mouth, the way his smile made his eyes crinkle just enough to feel like he really saw you. My chest tightened as the image refused to leave.
With a frustrated groan, I shoved my hand under my waistband, like this was just another night and not one where my thoughts were betraying me. It didn’t mean anything, I told myself. Just a release, a way to blow off steam.
But it wasn’t just physical.
My fist moved in a rhythm that should’ve been mindless, automatic. Except it wasn’t. Every movement dragged me deeper into that picture behind my closed lids—Markus’s face, his hands, the way his voice wrapped around me like something solid.
My breath hitched, my body tensing as the heat built too fast to ignore. My toes curled, and my thighs shook as I chased that edge, every nerve in my body alive.
When it finally hit, it was like my whole body unraveled at once. My cock throbbed in my hand, release spilling over my fingers and onto my skin. For a few seconds, all I could hear was the sound of my breathing, loud and unsteady in the quiet room.
And then the ache came back. Not in my chest this time, but somewhere deeper.
I swore under my breath, reaching for tissues on my bedside table to clean myself up. My body might’ve been satisfied, but my mind was a mess. Markus wasn’t just under my skin—he was everywhere.
God, I was so screwed.