Chapter 9
MILES
What a difference a week makes.
Seven days ago, I was sitting in this same place watching Brett Calloway perform for an audience that only included me as a punchline.
Tonight, he was standing at the rack choosing a cue with that same easy physical confidence, except now he kept glancing over at me with something warm underneath the swagger.
It had been his idea to spend Friday night at Token & Slice for a casual game of pool. My first instinct was suspicion. Old habits. I’d spent all this time reading Brett Calloway as an opponent, and the recalibration was ongoing.
But he seemed genuine, relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before this week, loose and unhurried, making jokes while we ordered drinks, and not performing them for anyone but me.
I was, against my better judgment, completely enamored with him.
I’d offered him the key that morning. Set it on the nightstand without a word and let him decide. He’d looked at it for a long moment, then looked at me, then left it sitting right where it was.
He hadn’t mentioned it since. Neither had I.
He was still cocky. That hadn’t changed. If anything, the bravado was more concentrated now that it wasn’t being used defensively, just existing naturally, and I was discovering that I found it entertaining rather than irritating. Growth, possibly. Poor judgment, more likely.
We were two games in, nothing at stake, just playing, when he set his cue down mid-turn and crossed over to my side of the table.
“What are you—?”
He kissed me, right there under the neon signs, in front of everyone. He was unhurried and certain, with that signature Brett Calloway confidence that didn’t know how to do anything halfway.
He pulled back with a smirk sitting on his mouth.
I looked at him. “Glad that’s settled,” I said.
His smile widened. He picked his cue back up.
We were midway through the third game when the door opened, and Dane walked in with two of the others behind him. I felt Brett get slightly tense beside me, just for a second, then he seemed to force himself to relax.
Dane clocked us immediately. His eyes moved between us, reading the situation with the kind of speed that suggested he’d already done most of his homework earlier in the week.
He looked different than he had on Tuesday night.
The belligerence was gone. What replaced it was something quieter and less comfortable, the specific expression of someone who knew he behaved badly and hadn’t finished sitting with it yet.
He crossed over to us.
“Brett,” he said. Then, carefully, “Miles.”
“Dane,” I said.
He exhaled and looked at Brett first. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. Way out of line.” Then his eyes came to me. “Both of you. I shouldn’t have said those things, and I took a swing like an idiot, and I’m sorry.”
Dane’s apology was sincere. I’d spent enough time reading people to know the difference.
Brett looked at him for a moment. Then he reached over and picked up his drink, casual as anything, and with his other hand, he took mine.
Dane’s eyes dropped to our joined hands, came back up. He nodded, something settling in him visibly.
“So are we good?” Dane asked.
“Maybe,” I said.
His eyebrows shot up.
I picked up my cue and looked at him with the same expression I’d used across the pool table seven days ago on someone considerably harder to rattle.
“Why don’t we play a game first?” I suggested. “Just you and me. We can even the score.”
Dane looked at the table, looked at me, looked at Brett, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. He knew exactly what was coming and was very glad it wasn’t aimed at him this time.
“What are the stakes?” Dane asked.
I smiled, picked up the chalk, and gave the cue tip one slow, deliberate turn.
Then, I reached into my jacket pocket and set down a chastity cage on the rail. It was small, glimmering silver.
Dane stared at the cage. Stared at me. Swallowed once.
Beside me, Brett leaned in close enough that only I could hear him. “You’re kind of terrifying,” he whispered. “And it’s making me so horny.”
“I know,” I said. “Rack ‘em up, Dane.”
I broke clean, and the balls scattered.