Chapter 9 #2
Landon seems to relax beside me. We watch Grady as he makes his way to us.
The crowd has thinned with the end of the music, but there are still a few people milling about, finishing their drinks and flirting with each other.
Grady grabs a retro lawn chair and turns it around, then straddles it, leaning his chest into the back and reaching for his beer.
He holds it up to me, and we clink glasses.
As he takes his first sip, I casually ask, “So you’re good friends with the lead singer, huh? ”
I can feel Landon’s eyes like a hot poker, but I don’t look his way. I’m not breaking my word. I’m not going to go there… but I can lead a horse to water. Grady can decide whether to drink or not. Grady nods as he swallows. “Yeah. Known him since… man, I think like ninth grade.”
“He grew up in your hometown? Silver…?”
“He moved there in ninth grade. From Chicago, of all places. His dad worked in finance, and the bank he worked for transferred him to run our little Silver Bay branch.” Grady smiles at the memory.
“Jason is not a small-town dude. Wasn’t even then.
And he isn’t athletic, so Silver Bay was a bit of a rough ride for him. Every guy in town plays hockey.”
“He’s a really good singer and musician,” Landon remarks and rubs his palms on the sides of his pants.
Grady nods again. “Yeah. He’s super talented, just not in a way that was appreciated in rural Maine. But he lives in New York now and makes a solid living off touring with the band and freelance graphic design. He’s happy and I’m happy for him.”
“Girls didn’t eat that shit up in Silver Bay?” I question, playing with the little paper umbrella poking out of my half-finished drink. “Girls in California love a cute guy with a guitar. Or a surfboard.”
Grady lets out a breathy chuckle that literally sets my ovaries on fire.
I try not to picture him doing that in my ear while Landon goes down on me and Grady plays with my nipples.
Oh hell. I’m wet. “I think some girls in Silver Bay might have been interested in that type of guy. Especially one as talented as Jay. But… Jay wasn’t interested in girls. ”
Bingo! I quickly shoot Landon a pointed stare. Grady catches it. “You both obviously figured out this is a gay bar.”
I nod. Landon doesn’t, which leads me to believe they’ve already established this at some point. Maybe while I was dancing. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the band is gay. I’m not gay and I’m here.”
“Jay has been dating the bassist for two years. They live together,” Grady explains, and puts his half-empty bottle on the table.
“I’m not spilling secrets. It’s common knowledge.
He’s out. Anyway, I come and see him when we happen to be in the same city, or close, because his parents left Silver Bay and he never comes back. ”
“Must have been hard being gay in rural Maine. I mean, I don’t mean to assume, but like you said,jock is the only acceptable form of teenage boy out there, and he wasn’t,” I muse and stir my drink with my umbrella.
“San Fran was a great place to grow up that way. Very accepting. Lots of artsy kids and no one cared if you were gay.”
“Angie, you can be a jock and be gay,” Landon interrupts suddenly, making me blink. I go silent so the only sound is the clank of the melting ice cubes in my glass as they spin around. “You act like he wasn’t into sports because he was gay.”
“I definitely didn’t mean that,” I backtrack, horrified because that’s not at all what I meant. “Sorry, it came out wrong. I’m sure there are gay kids who are into sports. In fact, I’m sure some have made it to the NHL.”
“Our captain is gay, so yeah, they make the NHL. Bi guys do too,” Grady agrees and picks up his beer, taking a long, slow gulp. “Abbott Barlowe may be the only one out, but he’s not the only one.”
Didn’t think so. “Anyway, it’s nice that Portland is diverse. And accepting. This bar is great.”
Grady turns to Landon. “Thanks for the beer, man, but I can’t finish it. Not if I want to butterfly without groaning tomorrow during the game,” he says about what I can only assume is some goalie move. They bend more than yoga instructors. “I’m less flexible hungover.”
Landon surprises me by reaching out and taking Grady’s beer from him.
My eyes lock on how their fingers brush as the bottle exchanges owners.
Landon puts it to his lips, eyes on Grady, and takes a pull.
My ovaries must be absorbing as much liquor as my liver because for some silly reason, Landon’s lips on the bottle while his eyes are on Grady makes my panties wetter.
“We should head back,” Landon says, finishing the rest of Grady’s beer and plunking the empty bottle on the table.
I quickly down the last of my drink, and both Landon and Grady stand and simultaneously offer me a hand to get up.
I place my glass next to the beer bottle and grin up at them.
Placing one hand in each of their extended hands, I let them yank me up.
They have the strength of a set of oxen between them, and I fly to a standing position, stumbling forward and crashing into half of Grady and half of Landon.
They both wrap an arm around my waist to keep me steady.
Their arms must be touching behind my back.
I see gooseflesh ripple up Landon’s neck and fight a smile.
Instead, I lean in and softly kiss his cheek, close to the mouth, purposely catching the edge of it. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper.
And then… I do the exact same thing to Grady. And as I push between both their stunned frames to lead the way out of the enclosed patio, I let a hand skim the front of each of their pants.
Grady and Landon are both hard. Fuck, yes.