Chapter Two #2
Ryder’s brow flattened as he said it. His brother and Jason came walking back out to the pool.
They were mid-conversation, and I heard Jason say, “That’s what I mean when I say managing up.
You gotta know when to exhaust him. Let him spin his little wheels until there’s nothing left for him to ask. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You fucking nailed it, bro,” Miles said as they approached. “What’s up, boys?”
Connor brightened. “We’re gonna head to the beach.”
“How’d it go?” Tyler asked.
“Fine. Just our boss being neurotic as always,” Miles said.
Jason’s eyes tensed. “Isn’t there that red tide, dangerous algae thing? I thought that’s why we didn’t go down yesterday.”
Ryder sat up. “Yeah, there is, so we can’t go in the water, but it’d be a shame to miss the beach at South Beach, no?”
“Good point,” Jason said.
That settled it. We were off, leaving most of our things behind in hopes of claiming our spot while we were gone. The waves lapped at the soft white sand at the perfect pace, and the sky was bigger than I’d ever seen it. The water was so turquoise it made our inability to jump in painful.
Ryder was back to only talking to me, and we fell behind the other guys.
Again, I didn’t mind. I’d never felt so cool in my whole life.
We were chatting about the benefits of HIIT workouts versus endurance, when I said, “Yeah, but it’s better to get your chest popping than pop a blood vessel on a small hike…
” I trailed off, too distracted by his hand on the small of my back.
He was guiding me away from a jagged piece of driftwood I didn’t see, but it felt…
different. More than at the bar. It was gentle but firm, and the smile he gave when I looked at him was just so…
I couldn’t describe it. And it made me feel…
Not bad, close to butterflies in my stomach, but more than that.
Ryder left his hand there for one second longer than necessary. Then threw his head back in laughter, reacting to what I had said. It wasn’t funny. I didn’t even mean for it to be funny, but he laughed anyway. He’d been laughing at my jokes, or lame attempts at them, the entire trip.
It was the first time I had to consider—was Ryder flirting with me?
Then he pushed me and said, “You really are oblivious. Don’t worry about popping a blood vessel on some theoretical hike, worry about breaking your ankle on this beach.”
No, he wasn’t flirting. That was impossible. He liked guys, yeah, but not all human males. Not me. For sure, not me. But what if he did? What if Ryder did flirt with me? Would that be the worst thing in the world?
No, it wouldn’t. If I had to be honest with myself, which I was pretty shit at, I’d like it. I was already into his attention, and if it came with the ego boost of him thinking I was attractive? Yeah, I’d be into that too. Real into it. Just, you know, not with my dick.
◆◆◆
Dinner was better than great. We found this awesome place, dressed a little nicer, and had a great time. The bar was better. Or bars. We were in high spirits. Well, except when the brothers interacted.
The weird tension escalated to the point where I was sure Connor and Jason noticed, too. I hadn’t had a single moment alone with the groom-to-be, and tried to pay it as little mind as I could. No reason to spend brainpower on something that I wasn’t even sure was happening.
It’s better when I don’t overthink things.
When I was a little kid, years before we moved and I met Miles, I worried about every little thing.
What if I hit the ball off the tee wrong, and it breaks my nose?
What if robots invade while I’m at school and I never see my mom again?
What if the batter hits a line drive right into my brain?
A little league coach gave me the best advice I’d ever received before or since: “Just don’t think about it. ”
Easiest and most effective thing I’d ever learned. Now I just keep my thoughts level and smooth, and I haven’t felt that creeping, crushing sense of dread in years. Or at least when I do, I just stop myself and keep it moving.
The third place of the night was the biggest we’d been to yet.
A large central bar took up the sunken middle space, and booth alcoves lined the walls.
There were over a hundred people in there, but it didn’t feel packed, just crowded.
The music thumped, but wasn’t too loud, so you could still hear the person next to you.
All with this Art déco deep green-and-gold vibe.
Ryder wasn’t hitting it heavy, yet his arm rarely left my shoulders. It was odd, but I didn’t think too much of it. He wasn’t even talking to me, just using my body as a thing to lean on, which meant he was engaging with the rest of the guys.
“Nah, I’m good. Can’t do shots tonight,” Ryder said to Tyler after being asked. “But I’ll do a vodka rocks.”
Tyler turned away to place the order, and Connor said, “Watching your weight, bro?”
Ryder laughed, rocking my body along with his. “No. Well, yes, I always am. But I want to feel as non-shitty as I can tomorrow morning. Vodka rocks always does me good.”
Drinks in hand, we got the lay of the land.
Tyler and Jason wanted to post up at one of the open booths, saying they wouldn’t be open for long.
Connor wanted to fuck, and since no one in the booth had a vagina, he opted to pass.
But to his disappointment, Miles agreed with the others, and we found a booth near the corner.
“Fuck. That’s what I’m talking about,” Connor said not a minute after we had settled into the giant semi-circle booth.
“What?” Miles craned his neck to see.
“Those girls are checking us out. I’m gonna introduce myself. Come with me. Dangling something they can’t have always makes what they can look better.”
“Am I just a piece of meat to you?” Miles laughed.
“Yes. And once they know you’re off the menu, they’ll be even more in the mood for a cock meat sandwich.”
I groaned. Tyler rolled his eyes. Miles shook his head, laughing, and Jason said, “Jesus Christ, man.”
That was enough to convince Miles to wingman for Connor, and he wanted us all to go. Jason said no, but Miles implored him, so he wouldn’t be the only taken guy. Jason said, “Who’s gonna watch the table? They’re all full now.”
“I’ll hold down the fort,” Ryder said.
The realization crept across Jason’s face. Ryder had no reason to flirt with girls. He said, “Yeah, okay,” with a slight blush. Maybe he forgot Ryder was gay too, which made me feel a little better for the night before. Not by much, considering I’d known the guy since I was twelve.
“You coming, Finnegan?” Miles asked. “Or are you gonna pussy out like you always do when there’s hot women around?”
Ryder looked at me and said, “Stay. Keep me company. One dude isn’t enough to protect all this space. And that group is already eyeing us up.”
I glanced at Miles, then at Ryder. Neither was paying attention to the other.
“Yeah, I’ll stay. You’ll have better luck without me anyway, boys.” Miles was right, I tend to freeze up around pretty women, and if I do speak, I sound like the most awkward loser ever.
Something passed over Miles’s face. He turned around, slung an arm around Connor, and left. Jason was the last to leave, shooting Ryder and me a “save me” look before resigning to his fate.
I didn’t glance at Ryder until he placed his arm on the backrest behind my head.
“Thanks, but knowing you, I’d say I’m the one who did you the favor.
” My cheeks burned. He wasn’t wrong, but he also didn’t have to call it out like that.
Then he pushed me and laughed. “Just fucking with you, man. Calm down.”
“I am calm, Ryder.” I laughed. “No worries.”
“You always call me Ryder.” His eyes crinkled. “You can call me Ry if you want. Known you long enough.”
Did I always use his full name? His family used both. Had I never? I guess I really was cool in his eyes.
“Okay, Ry.” My smile was wide, and I met his eyes.
His was too. “But seriously, there isn’t anyone in your life? Not even a crush?”
“Nope. Still single as ever.”
He gripped my shoulder muscle just shy of painful. “That shit is so fucking weird to me, bro. If a guy like you can’t find anyone, what the hell am I gonna do?” Ryder leaned in a little.
I laughed hard. That was absurd.
“What are you talking about?” I laughed harder. “You have a better chance of hooking up than I do.”
“I rarely do hook-ups.” He looked at me like he had in the pool, lingering on my lips. “I could be balls deep in some sexy Miami guy in fifteen minutes if I wanted to. Not my style.”
I hadn’t noticed Ryder skipped a shave. The stubble made him look more approachable. Less formal. “Yeah? What is your style, then? Formal inquest at the fancy doctor meeting?”
It took a moment to register, but then Ryder fell back laughing, using my shoulder as an anchor to keep from going too far. His laughter cut off, and he glared at me. “Who told you about the Fancy Doctor Meetings? That’s a federal violation.”
“Uh…” He wasn’t serious, but his gaze was intense. I was staring at his lips when he smiled before breaking into another laugh.
Ryder sat back, releasing my shoulder. “My style is more white picket fence, husband, two point five kids. That whole shebang.”
I sat back and took a sip. “That’s the dream, right?”
The corner of Ryder’s lip curled. “Oh yeah? Husband and all?”
I blue-screened for a second, then cackled. I was enjoying myself more with him than I had yet on the trip. For a while before that, too. It was so easygoing with him. I guess when Ryder Beckett decides you’re cool, everything is.
“Shut the fuck up, man.” The laughter was dying, but not my smile.
Neither did his. We just grinned at each other like idiots for a beat. “Jokes aside, why didn’t you want to go over there?” His eyes flicked all over my face. “This isn’t the hotel pool. It’s more acceptable to hit on people.”
“I don’t know. I told you already. It’s just not what I do.”
“You ever consider why that is?”
“Not really. No.”
“Scared of rejection? Or the opposite?”
“I... uh… don’t know, man. I never thought that deep about it, to be honest.”
His head fell back and chest shook. “No fucking duh. You never think too hard about anything, do you?”
“Not really. I like to keep it light and airy up here.” I tapped my head. “No drama, no stress.”
Ryder leaned in close enough for me to smell the vodka and toothpaste on his breath, and gripped my thigh for emphasis. “Calling yourself an airhead is cute, but maybe not what you were going for.” His smirk dissolved into giggles.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant, like…”
“I know. I’m just joking.” Ryder was still laughing, his hand still on my thigh.
His eyes became more intense, and I swear I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me, through me, or something else.
Ryder was definitely flirting with me. Maybe he took my lack of desire to hit on a random group of women as interest?
I didn’t have time to think about it since the guys were back.
But before Miles slammed his hand on my shoulder, with Ryder still looking through me, I realized I didn’t care. Or really, I was glad he was.
“Another strikeout,” Miles said. “Bet they would’ve had better luck if you came with us, bro. Lost interest when they realized half of us were unavailable.”
Their return also surprised Ryder. Which was harder to understand since he was facing them, and I wasn’t.
“He didn’t want to go, Miles. Give it a fucking rest,” Ryder said with a sneer.
“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Miles said, meeting his brother’s tone.
“What’s my problem? What’s your fucking problem, asshole?” Ryder retorted.
Miles leaned back like he’d been hit. “Fuck you, douchebag.”
The tips of my ears burned, but my tongue was caught. What a dramatic shift from the breezy banter we’d just been sharing. I didn’t know what to say, just that I had to say something. Nothing came to mind.
I scrambled out of the booth to take Miles away and let him cool off. I didn’t know how Ryder got out before I did. It was a big booth.
They weren’t yelling, but they were in each other’s faces. The threat of violence was low, and we hadn’t attracted security's attention yet. My stomach twisted. I couldn’t remember them ever being at each other’s throats like that.
Ryder glared at his brother. “Fuck off, man. Seriously, I—You know what, I don’t need this shit. I’m out,” he said before storming off.
There was a moment of silence, held breath, and frozen muscles as we waited for Miles’s reaction. He didn’t curse or chase him down. He deflated. Then sat down in the booth and mumbled, “Asshole.”
I exchanged glances with the guys. It was so out of character for both of them, we were stunned.
Miles said, “Shots?” and we exhaled. Tyler offered to get the next round.
The night never recovered. Miles got blackout drunk. No one mentioned Ryder, but the air had changed. The tension never dissipated.
Well before Miles was denied entry to the fifth bar, I had this sensation in my gut. I tried to ignore it until I couldn’t. I wished Ryder hadn’t left. I wished we were still at that bar, in that booth, and all the other guys had left instead.