12. Kyle
CHAPTER TWELVE
KYLE
I wasn’t in the mood to go to the bar like we had planned, so Ren left without me.
He seemed confused as to why I suddenly didn’t want to go, asking if I was sick. I said I had a headache, but the truth is, I just can’t brush off what happened like he can.
Ren is wild and carefree; nothing fazes him.
I’m not like that, and I can’t get over what happened so easily.
He’s clearly had experiences with guys before, and yeah, we didn’t touch each other or anything, but there was still a level of intimacy that I can’t seem to shake.
We watched each other jerk off and come for fuck’s sake.
It’s not nothing, despite his nonchalance.
I don’t know how he does it, and sometimes I wish I could too, but then I remember that sex is connected to feelings for me. I didn’t sleep with Marissa until after we confessed our love for each other. She was my first, and I was hers.
Warren lost his virginity at fifteen to an older girl, and then got beat up by her boyfriend.
I worry about him.
Always.
The thought of Ren going to some small-town bar alone has trepidation skittering down my spine. His boisterous personality, especially when drinking, can get him into trouble, and the last thing we need is Ren locked up in a tiny cell in middle-of-nowhere, Utah.
Sighing, I stand from the table and pull my phone out of my back pocket, sending him a quick text.
Where are you?
For the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the bar he said he was going to.
He doesn’t answer right away, so I begin to pace, waiting for a response and racking my brain for the name.
My phone finally chimes, and I quickly open my texts.
“ Buzzard’s Bar and Billiards, ” I say out loud, pretty sure that’s not the place he originally said he was going to.
It doesn’t sound too promising, so I open my Uber app and get the quickest ride I can.
The directions take us twenty minutes outside of town, and now I really start to worry.
“You sure you wanna go in there, suga?” the sweet old lady driving my Uber says with concern. “It can get a little rough and rowdy in there, and you seem like a nice boy.”
“Thanks, Joyce, but I’ll be okay. My friend’s in there.”
“Want me to wait? You have to pay for it, but I’m happy to wait if you need me to.”
I hesitate before deciding to take her up on her offer. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, you can just leave and charge my account.”
“Well now, suga, I can’t do such a thing.”
I scrunch my brows, staring at her through the rearview mirror. “Why not?”
“You see, I’d be worrying ’bout you nonstop.”
My eyes soften. “Ms. Joyce. I’ll be okay, really.”
“And I’ll be right here waitin’ for ya.” She winks at me, and I decide to accept her kindness. There isn’t enough of it in this world.
“Okay. Thank you.” I take a deep breath and climb from the vehicle, combing my fingers through my hair.
Buzzard’s is lit up with a neon sign above the small, dark building. A few cars and motorcycles are parked out front with a single flickering street light overhead.
It looks shady to say the least.
Why the fuck is Ren here?
As soon as I push through the front door, a handful of people turn to stare at me.
I’m not a small guy by any means, and there’s no way for me to casually blend in when I go somewhere. I ignore the probing eyes sizing me up and scan the dark room for my best friend and chronic bad-decision-maker.
I spot him sitting at the bar with a few random guys surrounding him. They’re a little older, a lot bigger, and a lot rougher around the edges than him. Ren’s barely six foot, and he just turned nineteen last month.
He shouldn’t even be here.
Sometimes I hate that he got us both such real looking fake IDs.
All of a sudden, he sticks his tongue out, showing off the piercing he got on his eighteenth birthday. For what reason? I have no clue. But Ren’s personality is magnetic, and when I look around at the men’s faces, they’re fascinated by him, whether they realize it or not.
And that can be a dangerous thing.
Warren eats up the attention, clearly intoxicated, and I make my way over to ensure he’s okay.
But a small woman darts in front of me, cutting off my path and asking me to dance. I smile politely, attempting to turn her down nicely, but my eyes continually dart back to Warren.
The biggest guy of the group seems to be a little too close to Ren, leaning in to whisper something into his ear while caressing his upper thigh.
I don’t like it at all.
Something hot and fierce grabs hold of my heart, squeezing tightly and urging me forward.
I politely decline the girl, making my way over to the bar as Ren laughs, shaking his head no and shoving the burly guy back a step.
Before I can make it there, the creep takes a swing, knocking Ren backward off the barstool.
He falls to his butt on the dirty bar floor, and all hell breaks loose. The guy’s friends hold him back as he threatens violence against Ren. He grabs a beer bottle and smashes it against the bar.
What the fuck?
Is he insane?
Or am I, and this is all a fever dream?
“Alright! Alright! Get your friends and get the fuck out of my bar, now! All of you!” the bartender yells, and I don’t blame him one bit.
I grab Ren under the armpit and yank him up from the dirty ground.
He winces in pain, uneasy on his feet and clearly intoxicated.
“ What did you do? ” I hiss under my breath, automatically accusing him of starting this stupid brawl. “Why are you even here?”
“ Kyle! Buddy! How’re you doin’?” he slurs with a big smile on his face, his white teeth shining.
I keep a firm grip on his bicep, walking him toward the front door and ignoring the pandemonium behind me as the bartender gets the group of rowdy men to leave through the back exit, attempting to restore order.
Cool air hits my flushed face, and I take a deep breath, steering Ren around the side of the building before I rush him to Joyce’s waiting car.
He stumbles next to me as I practically drag him there.
“Get your giant paws off me,” Warren slurs, attempting to wrench his arm out of my grasp, but it’s fruitless. I’m much stronger than him. I clench my teeth, trying to have patience with his drunk ass.
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I bunch up the fabric and shove him against the outer wall. “ Warren! ” I shout, hoping I can cut through the haze of alcohol clouding his brain and his judgment.
I never use my size to overpower him, but he needs to listen before he gets himself hurt. “What the fuck were you doing talking shit to a group of guys bigger than you when you’re all alone in some shithole bar?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Warren grits out, his gray eyes darting off to the side as we hide in the darkness of the awning.
“Then enlighten me,” I demand. “Why are you always looking for trouble and toeing the line of danger?” I shake him a little, getting worked up. “Tell me why you always let yourself get hurt.”
I can see the bruise on his cheekbone blooming.
“I met them at the other bar, and they seemed pretty cool, ya know? Bought some drinks and said they were coming here next. I tagged along, and we played some darts and pool,” he answers, making eye contact with me again. “Then, I bought a round of beer for everyone before I crushed them at both games.” His gaze is intense, despite the alcohol, and I don’t look away. “Derek bought a round of shots since he was the loser. One round led to three, and long story short, everyone got wasted, and he propositioned me. I said no, then bam, you know the rest.”
He blinks slowly, and my heart skips a beat at his words, knowing just how drunk he actually is and how close he came to being taken advantage of.
Fuck.
I should never have let him drink alone. Especially not in a random bar in Utah.
I swallow thickly, still pressed against Ren and the side of the building, our faces inches apart.
“Why would he have propositioned you? For what?” My eyes scan his features, looking for any answer I can find.
Without saying a word, Warren sticks his tongue out, and my eyes dart down to the silver stud in it.
My nostrils flare and like a bull, I see red.
He wanted Ren to get on his knees in a dirty bar bathroom and suck his dick.
That motherfucker.
If I had known . . .
“Kyle, you’re shaking,” Ren whispers, and I don’t even realize how upset I am until he points it out. “It’s okay, Ky. Really. Take me home?” His eyes are droopy, blood-shot, and glassy. I haven’t seen him this fucked up since we were sixteen. “ Please? ”
“Yeah, Renny. Let’s get you home.” The old nickname slips out, and I put my arm around his shoulders, steering him toward Joyce’s car.
I open the door and help him in, buckling his seat belt before walking around and getting in on the other side.
Ren leans his head back and falls asleep pretty much instantly.
Joyce steals little peeks at us from the rearview mirror, and I can’t fault her for being curious. Neither of us speak, not wanting to wake Warren.
It doesn’t take long to get back to the RV, and I quietly thank Joyce for waiting, making sure I tip her well. I jog around the car and open the door to find Ren still sitting there buckled in with his head tipped back and his mouth slightly ajar.
A small smile tugs at my lips, and I lean in, unbuckling him. I fish for the RV keys, digging them out of his pocket.
Keeping them handy, I squat down and scoop him up carefully. Even though he’s smaller than me, he’s still heavy as fuck. I adjust him in my arms, making sure I have a good hold as he snuggles into my chest.
“Goodnight, boys!” Joyce whisper-shouts before she takes off down the road.
“ My gentle giant. ” I almost don’t hear the soft words over the howling wind and the sound of tires crunching along gravel.
My smile starts to grow as I walk toward the RV.
I’m not sure what’s happening, but all I know is I never want to see him hurt.