Chapter 3
Amir
As I glanced at my watch, I wondered if I was insane for waiting here this long.
It was a quarter to one in the morning, but I didn’t feel tired.
I’d barely been on my phone, too busy watching Remi work his magic all over the place.
He cleaned while he talked and never let drinks stay empty.
Somehow, he kept up with everyone in the place without leaving me alone for very long.
My phone buzzed, so I looked away from him.
Trav: I made it safely. Roman says hi
Me: Give him my number please. I want to check in.
Trav: Did you ask the bartender that nicely too?
Me: I didn’t ask.
Trav: Go back and do it. He was dangerously hot
Me: I can’t.
Trav: Not with that attitude. If you’re making another World Series bet to convince yourself to come out, I might have to hop on a plane and kick your ass. In the nicest way possible
I laughed but slipped the phone into my pocket without responding. He was probably right. Hinging my future on something like that was stupid, but I’d been dancing around the idea of publicly coming out for so long now that I felt more pressure every time I thought about it.
The first thing I had to do was talk to Avery. That was also the part I was most afraid of.
Even though we’d lost the World Series last season, we were on everyone’s radar more than before.
We’d played some damn good games, and after seven of them against the Braves, we’d barely let it slip through our fingers.
Most importantly, we’d shown the world that we were a team to contend with.
That also meant more publicity on anything we did, as a whole and individually.
Remi rapped his fingers on the counter, drawing my attention. He held up his phone, then tapped the screen. “Closing Time” started playing from the overhead speakers before he grabbed a gavel from under the bar and pounded it on the counter.
“Last call!” he shouted.
There were only a few people left, and two of them rushed over to get a final drink.
As he closed out tabs, he sang along to the music, fearlessly belting the notes.
I took off the headphones and set them down so I could listen to him.
He glanced over at me and smiled mischievously without missing a beat.
I thought Trav was a little off sometimes. Then, I met Remi. Where the hell had he come from?
Putting the headphones back on, I tuned into his strange melodies. At some point, they’d grown on me, and I found myself looking up some of the songs to add to my playlist. They’d be a good way to pass the time on flights and bus rides when the season started.
The song ended right in the middle, and my head snapped up when “Let’s Get It On” came through the headphones. I met Remi’s eyes across the room. He bit his lip dramatically while he rolled his hips and stroked a pool cue.
I got to my feet and walked over to him. “It emptied out fast.”
“Or you were too lost in the music.”
“It’s not the worst I’ve heard.”
He took the headphones and set them on one of the tables. I stared at him, not sure what his plan was, if he even had one.
“You probably need to clean up,” I said.
“It’s mostly done.”
I glanced at the tables, which had already been cleared and wiped clean. All his buzzing around paid off, apparently.
“You play?” he asked as he spun a pool stick.
“I’ve been known to sink a few balls.” I grabbed a stick and weighed it in my hand. “Can you hold your own?”
He snorted. “I own a bar. What do you think I do when it’s slow?”
“Write poetry and pretend to hump the poor pool cues?”
“Well, yes on one count.”
“I knew it.” Wrinkling my nose, I held the stick out. “Should I sanitize this?”
He swung his toward me, forcing me to dodge. Holding mine with both hands, I backed up, then rounded the other side of the table.
“You break,” he said.
I sank two balls and shot him a smug smile.
“Mm, mm, mm,” he hummed after I pocketed another. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe you’ll let me help with your form, though.”
When he came toward me, I held my cue out to keep him back. “Oldest trick in the book, Remi. I don’t think so.”
His eyes were locked on me as I lined up my next shot, and I could barely stay focused. My gaze tried to follow him when he moved, but he ended up behind me. I drew in a breath to re-center myself. It was nearly impossible when I was overwhelmed by his scent.
“Are you from here?” he asked close to my ear.
I hit the ball, clipping the one I wanted to sink. It hit the wall next to the pocket but didn’t go in.
When I turned around, he was only a foot away. I gripped the edge of the table behind me as his dark eyes evaluated me.
“No,” I replied. “Arizona.”
“Sounds hot.” He winked before he moved to the other side of the table to take his shot.
My senses had clearly abandoned me because I followed him. He glanced at me, then expertly struck the ball, managing to pocket two.
“Where are you from?” I asked. “You must be pretty new here.”
“Oh, everywhere and nowhere.”
I laughed until I realized that he wasn’t actually going to give me an answer.
“You never told me why you chose to open a bar,” I reminded him.
He made another shot, then turned to me and rested the end of his pool cue on the floor. “I’m good at it, and working for other people is the worst way to slowly kill yourself.”
Something about that made me smile. “You’ve unlocked the secret to life, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Want me to teach you?” He put his fingers over mine on the edge of the table. With his tongue, he spun the hoop in his lip.
I swallowed hard. My hand went to the hem of his shirt, and I found myself playing with it. “Maybe when we’ve figured out who the better player is.”
Without looking away from me, he lifted the pool stick and tapped the cue ball. It rolled into the pocket, and he arched a brow. “Oops.”
He started forward, so I quickly stepped around him. Grabbing the ball, I positioned it, then took aim. He stayed on the other side of the table, just watching. Once I hit it, I looked up at him.
“You made it,” he said.
“Okay.”
I had to get closer to him in order to take my next shot, and he didn’t make it easy for me as I tried to avoid hitting him with the stick. After a second, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort and let it whack him in the ribs.
“Oops,” I said innocently.
Of course the move made him smirk. That half-smile was a near-permanent part of his face. And damn, did it look like it belonged there.
I missed the next shot, which gave me a reason to worry. He’d thrown his last round, but I didn’t think it would happen again.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said to draw his attention away from the game. “You’re not from New Haven.”
“Why do you think that?”
Now that he’d asked, I second-guessed myself. He could’ve been a Connecticut native. It wasn’t like I’d know. I hadn’t even met everyone on my street, let alone the town.
“Did you go to Yale?” I asked.
“Did you?”
“You’re kind of annoying.”
He raised a brow and kept his eyes on me while he took his shot. It was flawless. “I thought I was interesting.”
“You can be both,” I said. Though it was true on all counts, I struggled to hold back a smile. I’d have to add amusing to the list.
“Tell you what. I’ll let you win if you can guess where I’m from.”
My lip curled at the idea. “I don’t want you to let me win.”
“Competitive?”
“It’s what fuels me.”
I watched his tongue travel across his lips slowly. When a new song came on, his demeanor changed. He looked up at the speaker above us with a more diabolical smirk on his face.
“This one’s my favorite.”
I couldn’t help that I paid more attention to the song. It wasn’t something I was familiar with, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what made it his favorite.
He winked at me again, then hit the ball. Once he locked in, the game was over so quickly that it was unbelievable.
“Damn.” I breathed a laugh as I put the cue back in the stand. “I don’t know if I ever stood a chance.”
He leaned his hip against the table, and I joined him, matching his position. With my hand on the surface, I was hyper-aware of the way his settled a few inches in front of mine.
“I let you break,” he reminded me.
“Then you threw your turn. Guess you gave me two chances.”
“You’ve gotta take ‘em when they come.”
The tips of his fingers brushed mine, and my nerves ran wild. In the space between us, the air was charged, crackling with tension that had begun to build the moment I’d walked into this bar.
“Next time I will,” I said.
“Oh, I won’t go easy on you again.” He covered my hand with his and looked down at them. “Tell me what you do.”
“Tell me where you’re from.”
His lips curved, but he didn’t respond. The way he shifted forward put him close enough to feel the heat from his body.
Beneath the dim lights, the entire scene was like something from a dream, a mix of oversaturation and sharp clarity.
The background faded as he became the focal point.
His eyes were harsh in the way they surveyed me, the color shining almost golden.
“I should head out,” I said.
His confident expression wavered, and for a brief second, I got a glimpse of vulnerability. But it was gone so quickly that I wondered if it had ever actually existed.
He pulled his hand back and let it hang at his side. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Have a good night, then, Amir. It was nice to meet you.”
Before I could respond, he turned around. As he pulled the balls out of the pockets, I heard a dozen different voices. One that sounded like Trav called me an idiot. The others were all over the place, and most of them I chose to ignore.
“Fuck it,” I muttered.
I grabbed Remi’s arm and spun him around.
His eyes were wide and flashed with something that felt like a warning, but when my mouth came down on his, everything else disappeared.
A new sort of delirium took over, and I slid my hand up his arm until it reached his neck.
Cupping the side of it, I let him push my lips open.
It was like Pandora’s Box exploded, releasing a torrent of chaos and desire, impossible to unmake once unleashed.