Chapter 13
“You are absolutely fucking brilliant,” Seth said.
Ren wanted to believe that he’d only said that because he was three old-fashioneds in, which was a lot for anyone to drink, but despite the brightness in his eyes, Seth didn’t slur a single word, and he’d even come up with the answer to a particularly thorny question about the Waltons TV show that Ren hadn’t had a chance in hell of answering.
“Am I?” Ren questioned, grinning at the man next to him.
“Oh, you are, and it’s sexy as hell,” Seth confessed. A little loudly.
Ren had been called sexy for a number of reasons over the years. Almost every single one had had something to do with the way he looked or talked or smiled or walked. A lot of times they had to do with the way he fucked.
But he’d never had anyone tell him that his intelligence was sexy before.
That they were attracted to his brain.
It was surprisingly intoxicating.
“You really mean that,” Ren said, even though it was unnecessary to ask, because while the look in Seth’s eyes might be a bit glazed, there was truth there, too.
“Oh, I do. You’re sexy taking out the trash. And with bed head to rival anyone. But . . .” Seth dropped his voice. “But you’re definitely sexiest when you’re using that big brain of yours.”
Ren felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the two drinks he’d consumed.
He was about to lean in and kiss Seth—because how could he not after that?—the ultimate fuck it to that silly idea that neither of them liked PDA, when he heard a voice that stopped him dead in his tracks.
“I haven’t seen you around here lately,” the voice said, leaning in closer.
Ren didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
He and Carl had hooked up about a year ago. They’d met after a trivia night, when Ren had been flushed with victory over the Stanford crew, much the same as tonight, and they’d had a very memorable night of sex.
Carl was hot.
Carl was also not very smart, because he’d never figured out that Ren only came here for trivia night. Obviously he’d been looking for him on other nights of the week.
In fact, Ren couldn’t deny that he hadn’t kept an eye out for him, too. The sex had been very good. Good enough that Ren had considered breaking his normal pattern by sleeping with him twice.
But now, with Seth’s gray eyes on him, and that warmth in his chest that he didn’t think had anything to do with the bourbon he’d consumed, Ren found it hard to even remember why he’d wanted to see Carl again.
Even if he had, he definitely had not wanted to run into Carl now, when he was with Seth.
“Funny, because I come here every Thursday,” Ren said with an edge of frost, as he turned around. Hoping that Carl would take the hint and leave him alone.
“Oh.” Carl smiled a bit dopily. He was still hot. Tousled blond hair, piercing blue eyes. A build that would give Chris Hemsworth a run for his money.
But somehow, he left Ren completely, utterly cold now.
“Hello,” Seth said, leaning around Ren’s body. He wasn’t big enough to block Carl—a semi truck wouldn’t have been enough to block Carl from Seth’s view, but Ren had been trying anyway.
“Hello,” Carl said, perking up, because no doubt he wouldn’t be averse to a two-for-one special, and Seth was very attractive. “I’m Carl.”
Ren remembered that flirtatious look of his, even though it had been a year since he’d seen it, and he wanted to drop through the floor.
Seth knew that he’d slept with guys. He’d never tried to hide that fact. But it was another thing entirely to be confronted by one of Ren’s one-night stands.
And just when things were going so damn good, Ren thought. He wanted to pretend he was baffled by his worry. But he knew exactly why.
Seth was going to get jealous. Seth would get spooked by the evidence of Ren’s usual proclivities standing right fucking there. Seth would be less willing to continue their “casual” thing.
He might even lose Seth over Carl’s annoying reappearance.
“Hi, Carl, I’m Seth. Seth Abramson.”
“I thought,” Carl said, turning his head towards Ren, “that you didn’t go on dates.”
“I go on dates,” Ren said defensively. Okay, they were almost always a precursor to sex, but that didn’t make them less of a date.
“Let me guess, you two went on exactly one date,” Seth drawled. When he was drinking, his Southern twang always came out. Ren had never imagined that he’d find that particular accent sexy, but he wanted Seth to whisper hot, sexy, sweet nothings in his hear in just that voice as he fucked him deep.
He’d hoped that he might get his wish tonight. But now it didn’t look like that was going to happen after all. Disappointment surged through Ren.
Fucking Carl.
“We did.” Carl smiled. “A very memorable date.”
“Actually, that wasn’t a date at all. We met here.” Ren scrambled to fix this, even though he could see the car crash coming from a mile away.
“And then,” Carl said, dropping his voice. This had probably never failed for Carl. He was that good looking. Really, if Jonas was Tony’s twin, then Ren could suppose that Carl was his. Just bigger, and a whole lot blonder. “And then we fucked.”
“Oh, I bet you did.” Seth sounded amused rather than annoyed. But Ren was sure that when Carl disappeared again, that would change. Seth had too much self-control to let something as petty as jealousy show in front of the man he was jealous of.
“How about it?” Carl suggested. “We could always do a repeat.” He glanced over at Seth. “With him too, if he’s into that.”
“He’s not,” Ren answered for Seth before he could open his mouth.
He didn’t know for sure whether Seth would be in for a random threesome, but he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he would be.
Seth’s eyebrow quirked up. “I’m not?”
“You’re not.” Ren made sure his tone invited zero arguments. But this was Seth, and Ren wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he hadn’t dealt with much tougher shit than a pretty boy attempting to be tough.
You are tough.
Except, comparatively, he totally wasn’t.
“Am I interrupting . . . a date? An actual date?” Carl grinned like this amused him.
Before, Ren would rather have died than admit that this was more than the casual thing they’d agreed to. But he’d brought Seth to trivia night, hadn’t he? And Seth was the first man he’d slept with twice in forever. Never mind how he just fucking liked talking to the guy.
It was totally not casual.
“Yes,” Ren said. “Yes, you actually are interrupting a date. Seth and I are . . . we’re on a date. A real date.”
Seth smiled slow and so goddamn sexy that Ren nearly grabbed his hand and led him out of the bar. They didn’t need to be here, dealing with Carl. They could be having a hell of a lot more fun someplace else.
“I guess we are,” Seth said in that molasses-slow drawl of his. “On a date, that is.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” Carl said. He patted Ren on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, Ren.”
Then he was gone, and Ren tried not to brace himself but it was impossible.
For a long moment, Seth didn’t say anything, just looked at Ren. “We should go,” Seth said, finally, and Ren felt the words like the death knell of all his hopes.
Hopes he hadn’t even realized that he’d had until this moment. But he’d had them—that much was undeniable now.
“Alright,” Ren said. Because what else could he say?
Seth threw a few bills down onto the bar, and then reached for Ren’s hand, helping him down from the barstool.
It felt almost cruel for Seth to take his hand now, when it might be the last time. But Ren gripped it hard, squeezing it as they left the bar.
Seth didn’t let them get very far, and Ren wasn’t surprised at all when he pulled them into an alley next to the bar.
“Did you mean it?” he asked, crowding Ren against the brick. He still hadn’t let go of his hand—because Ren was holding it so tightly or because he didn’t want to, Ren wasn’t sure.
“Mean what?” Ren asked, confused.
Maybe Seth was drunker than he’d imagined.
“That we were on a date,” Seth said. The look in his eyes was intense. And all of it, every single bit of it, was focused on Ren.
“I said it, didn’t I?” It was mean to drag it out this way. Ren wanted to yell at him, tell him to just say it and get it over with, but instead they were fucking around with this date bullshit.
“Yeah, yeah you did.” Seth scrubbed a hand across his face. “I just . . .”
“Didn’t realize that we would be running into guys I’d fucked?” Ren asked bitterly.
It was Seth’s turn to look surprised.
No. More than that.
Seth looked shocked.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“I’m sure we’re going to run into more,” Ren said, hating how bitter he sounded. “The list isn’t short, so it’s inevitable.”
“You think . . . you think I’m upset?” Seth took a step closer, catching Ren between the bricks and his big, warm body. Ren couldn’t help himself—that was the story of his life, wasn’t it?—and he instinctively rubbed up against all that warmth.
“I’m not upset,” Seth said, and then he was smiling, giddily, almost, and it wasn’t because he was drunk. Ren was pretty certain of that. “I’m not upset at all. I’m fucking thrilled. You asked me on a date. A date. You never take people to trivia night, but you took me.”
“Yes.” Ren gazed up at him. “I guess I did.”
“No guessing about it,” Seth said, and then leaned in and was about to kiss him, just as he’d been craving all night, blood running hot not just from the competition but the fact that Seth had been sitting there, hot as hell and all fucking his all night long.
But Ren suddenly pushed him back. “Wait,” he said. “No.”
“No?” Seth grinned. “Seemed a lot like yes.”
“It is yes, you dummy,” Ren said. “I’m just confused. You aren’t angry?”
“Angry?” Seth looked puzzled.
“Angry, jealous, envious, disgusted, etcetera, etcetera?”
Seth’s expression was blank for a moment and then suddenly, he was laughing. Laughing so hard that he threw his head back and just plain fucking cackled.
Ren was not amused.
He elbowed him in the stomach. “I mean it. We need to talk about this.”