Chapter 9Stiles
CHAPTER
NINE
STILES
I roll down the window and McCormick leans over me and yells, “Get in, Bitches. I’m starving.”
Brandt and West climb in the back, scrunching in beside Mandy. Nash honks his horn behind us and Jax and Nacho flip us off. I can see Rhett in my sideview mirror, laughing his ass off.
West leans forward between our seats. “So, who was too cool to come with?”
“Riggs, Brewer, and Pharo.”
“Figures.” He leans back. “Where’s your man?” he asks Mandy.
“Tex isn’t my man, dickwad. And he’s working. Said he didn’t want to miss out on the fat tips from closeted gay vets today.”
“Respect,” Brandt murmurs.
West snickers. “Speaking of… who’s got the list?”
I hold it up. “We’re riding point, so I’m navigating.”
“Dude, you realize this used to be my job. I’m point man. I navigate, Reaper drives.”
I turn in my seat and wink at him. “Well then next time, don’t oversleep and we can waste your gas instead.”
He grumbles under his breath and leans back. “Where to first?”
“First stop is 7 Eleven for a free coffee.”
“I just had coffee,” West complains.
Jeez . “Then sit your ass in the truck and wait.”
Mac adds, “Next stop is Denny’s for breakfast. Then we move onto Cracker Barrel for second breakfast. They got that pancake special. After that is Golden Corral. We gotta time it just right so we hit them thirty minutes before they put the lunch buffet out, and then, BAM, two meals!”
“Sweet,” West shouts, shoulder bumping Brandt and Mandy. A small scuffle ensues in the cramped backseat. “We’re doing this every year. It’s tradition now.”
“It’s a sacred tradition,” McCormick says in all seriousness. “If you aren’t taking advantage of free meals to vets on Veteran’s Day, why even bother serving at all.”
Mandy holds up his fist to bump against Mac’s. “One hundred percent.”
“Brandt and I used to hit up places around Bragg, but then they scaled back cause they got hit too hard.”
Brandt laughs. “It’s a shame what we did to that Asian buffet. They closed for two weeks after that.”
Thankfully, no one gets us thrown out of Denny’s or Cracker Barrel , though it’s a close call when Jax and Rhett go head-to-head over a game of checkers.
My stomach’s about to burst when we call for a food break and hit up the barbershop for free haircuts and beard trims. They’ve got my beard looking just right and I glance over at Mac to see how he’s doing.
My gut twists.
When I was enlisted, they let this guy in my unit drive a Humvee even though he never held a driver’s license. He drove it into a tree and me and my buddy saw it coming but were helpless to stop it from happening. We just sat and watched the collision with our mouths hanging open.
That’s a lot like how I feel right now. Mac is heading toward a collision and I’m frozen, unable to warn him.
The stylist cutting his hair got carried away and trimmed off too much. Wayyyyyy too much. It looks like a…
“Check out McCormick,” West shouts, pointing to my best buddy.
McCormick’s staring at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand over his new do. He grins from ear-to-ear and catches my gaze in the mirror. “You like? Looks good, right?”
Jesus fuck. He has a mullet. An orange mullet.
Jax doubles over laughing. “You look like a fucking schmuck. Should have gone for a faux hawk like mine.”
Mac’s face falls and he looks insulted. “Rhett?”
Rhett grimaces. “Dude, if I ever ask if you want me to be honest, say no.”
“Fuck all y'all.” His eyes find mine. “Stiles?”
Shit. “It’s… It’s a…”
“Come on, let’s hit the road. Maybe they’ll have moonshine at our next stop, McCormick,” Brandt teases.
After stopping at Applebee’s for dessert, we hit up Carolina Ale House for ribs.
“Give me a quarter,” Mandy asks. “We’ve got a coin toss. Carraba’s or Cheddars for the second dessert?”
Nacho hands him a quarter but Jax grabs it. “Both. We’ll take one to go.”
Nacho shakes his head. “The rules state you have to dine in to be eligible.”
Jax looks at him like he’s dumb. “You order and then hit the bathroom. Come back to the table clutching your stomach and ask for a to-go box.”
After consuming a chocolate lava cake and a cheesecake, West has the bright idea to drive through Dunkin’ Donuts for a third dessert. I've never eaten so much in my life, well, except for last Veterans Day. This makes Thanksgiving look like a light snack.
“I’ve got to burn this shit off. I can barely walk,” I complain.
“Walk? I can’t even breathe,” McCormick moans.
Every time he opens his mouth, I glance at him. And every time I look at him, I see that stupid haircut. Just when I was beginning to realize my attraction to him, he had to go and make himself as unattractive as possible. I mean, honestly, how am I supposed to get hard for the man when he sports an orange mullet?
Brandt sits forward. “Let’s hit up Dave and Buster’s . They’ve got free token packages for vets, and if anyone wants to grab something to take home for later, they’ve got free burgers.”
The word burger makes my gut clench. If I never eat again, it’ll be too soon. But the idea of burning off some calories playing games appeals to me. “I could go for some D&B.”
We draw some curious looks walking into the place as a group, scarred and tattooed and busted up with artificial limbs. We’re all big guys. Big guys with big guts after the festival of eating today.
McCormick pulls ahead. “As the raining skee ball champ, I challenge any of you Bitches to a battle.”
Brandt shrugs out of his jacket. “Oh, it’s on. You’re going down.”
Rhett laughs. “Hoops, anyone?”
“You’re on.” West slaps him on the back, accepting his challenge.
The group separates, going off in different directions, and I follow after Mac like a trained puppy. I don’t know what to do with myself when he’s not by my side. I feel lost, uncomfortable in my own skin, which is ridiculous, because I survived just fine before I met him. Maybe because I’ve grown to rely on him so much to help me keep shit straight in my head, or maybe because his friendship has become vital to me, but I revolve around him like a satellite, and I’m just beginning to realize how much.
I’m not me without him.
Does that thought bother me? Maybe less than it should. I’m alright with being half of his whole. Peanut butter and jelly, peas and carrots, whatever… We just work well together.
We belong together.
“Watch this,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me. And then he proceeds to kick Brandt’s ass. I love that he’s showing off for me. Love his cocky smirk. Don’t love the hair so much, but the rest of him, yeah… sign me the fuck up.
It’s these little moments I’ve been having over the last few days, ever since the kiss , moments of clarity and realization, that when I say he looks hot, I don’t just mean from a woman’s point of view. He looks hot from my point of view. My dick is capable of hardening for him. It wants him.
Because of his height, he has to lean over the Skee-Ball lane, and I use it as an opportunity to check out his ass. It’s a first for me, for sure, and I hate that my second thought, after thinking, it looks tight and round, is if anyone saw me checking him out.
I’ve accepted the fact that I want him, but I’m not comfortable with people knowing about it. Not yet.
Brandt challenges Mac to a rematch, but he declines, saying it’s too easy of a win. “You wanna come play with my balls?” He arches a fiery brow, his lips quirking.
I almost choke. Brandt just laughs, not catching on that the double meaning has a personal undertone.
“I’m good, thanks. Think I’m gonna go shoot a game of pool.”
“In that case, let me give you a hand with your stick,” he teases, and my face flushes redder than his beard.
“Would you quit that shit,” I hiss. The fuck is his problem?
He laughs deep and throaty, and all throughout the game his eyes linger on me, his smile teasing. I’d be hard if I wasn’t feeling so self-conscious.
Halfway through the game, McCormick sinks his shot, and then passes by me as he rounds the table to take the next one. “Lighten the fuck up,” he whispers in my ear. His breath tickles and I repress a full-body shudder. “You haven’t smiled once today.”
Am I being too obvious? Is my mood causing red flags?
“I miss seeing it,” he adds.
Oh. He misses my smile? Shit, that’s kinda… sweet. So I smile. Just for him. He leans over the table, lines up his shot, and sinks it dead to rights. But that’s not what has heat creeping up my neck. It’s the look he gives me right after. That cocky wink.
And yeah, my dick is hard now. Fuck whoever might be looking. It's funny, because before last week, that look would have made me laugh, and I’d have returned the wink and blown him a kiss. All joking and good times between friends. But now… that look meant something different.
And it’s ten times more powerful than any feminine giggle or coy smile from a woman. At least, any women I’ve dated.
Because I know Mac. He’s a fucking badass. Whether astride his Harley dressed in leather, or holding an automatic rifle wearing camo fatigues, McCormick is one scary motherfucker you don’t wanna mess with. And all that dick-hardening masculinity wants to tango with me .
Not gonna lie, it’s a heady feeling. Also, a little taboo feeling, considering our long-standing friendship. It’s a line we’ve never crossed, and now that we are, it's gut-flipping exciting.
We kill two more hours at D&B before Mandy asks, “Who’s ready to hit up Hooters?”
“Come-the-fuck-on,” Nash protests. “I’ve gained six pounds today. I’ll have to bust my ass all week in the gym with Riggs after this.”
West smacks his chest playfully. “Take mercy on him. He’s gotta check on Tex.”
Nacho slings his arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “Let’s go, brother.”
“I’m gonna be constipated for a week,” Rhett complains.
“Nothing sucks harder than a constipated bottom,” Brandt teases. A few snickers from the group—Jax, Mandy, West. “Get it? All he can do is suck, not fuck.” He cracks up at his own joke, which is what finally makes the rest of us laugh with him.
Hooters is packed but Tex hustles his customers out the door and clears a table for us pronto. He’s all smiles and bright blue eyes. “Welcome to Hooters. Happy Veteran’s Day. What can I get you?”
Mandy just stares at the little Texan in his short orange shorts and crop top until I kick him under the table to wake him up.
“Oh, I’m starved. What’s on the Vet Day special?”
“A free burger with fries or onion rings, and forty percent off wing baskets. And I know you want a slice of that chocolate cake you love.”
The guys give a collective groan at the thought of more food, but Mandy just nods, like he hasn’t eaten all week. “Bring me all of that.” He glances around the table, waiting for everyone to add their order, but the guys just shake their heads.
“I’ll have water, please.” Everyone agrees.
“Yeah, a round of ice water.”
Mandy gives us a death glare. “They’ll have coffee and a slice of cake to go.”
“Coming right up, big guy.” Tex thrusts his slim hip in Mandy’s direction and winks his glitter-shadowed eyelid, and Mandy’s back to drooling again.
When he’s out of earshot, West complains, “I can’t eat another bite. What am I gonna do with cake?”
“Fucking stuff it in your mouth,” Mandy orders. “I can’t tip him if we don’t order food.”
West shoots me a covert eye roll and I grin. Mandy’s got it bad for the little blond showboat. The problem is, he won’t do anything about it.
And when the check comes, Mandy blanches when we hand over ten-dollar bills.
Jax scoffs. “Fuck, dude. All I ordered was coffee and cake. How much you want me to tip?”
Mandy holds his palm out until we add more bills to the pile. It’s the most expensive dessert I’ve ever ordered.
Nacho laughs. “Good lookin’ out, my man. Tex is gonna make out like a king tonight with these tips.”
“He should,” Mandy defends. “He’s a vet working on Veteran’s Day, busting his skinny little ass in that getup to make a buck. Least all y’all cheap fucks can do is make it worth his while.”
Mac elbows me and I swallow my grin. Mandy in love is adorable.