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“How hoppy is that IPA?”
“Like eating a bowl of them from the field,” he says.
“Perfect.”
It’s that first hit. That first hit that is always the best one. Every single one that follows pales in comparison, but you keep seeking that same warmth in your veins, that same instant buzz, that same calm. You hope the next sip will have the same effect. It doesn’t. Then the third. Nope. The fourth, the fifth, the tenth and soon you are downing drinks, not just sips, and you’re numb. You’ve never re-found that initial consolation. You are just numb. And that’s okay too.
I stare at the beer in front of me. At the deep golden liquid that matches the color of Davey’s skin. Just the thought of him makes me smile. That joy I’ve been seeking is here now. It’s in me now when I think about him. When I think about my life here. I don’t need to search for it at the bottom of a bottle anymore. I don’t have any desire to be numb.
I wrap my hands around the frosty glass. My mouth salivates at just the promise of the bitterness of the hops that somehow also turn smooth on the way down.
I don’t have any desire to be numb; I think again. I’m happy. I’m good. This isn’t about anything other than the taste of the beer.
And oh, how glorious that taste is.
Chapter eighteen
“I’m glad to see the ponytail is sticking around,” Devyn says, as she reaches up and tugs on it lightly. She lets her hand trail down my back, takes my hand and gives me a once over. “It suits you.”
I grin at her. “Thank you,” I say and return a squeeze to her hand. She’s fishing for more of an answer than that. Like an admission that Carter likes it. In fact, I don’t know how Carter feels about it. I know he didn’t hesitate to spear his hands into my hair and grab hold when we kissed. I know he tugged hard on it seven years ago when we fucked. But does that mean he likes it? Another sign that we are still getting to know each other, still coming to grips with this whole relationship thing.
Holy shit, relationship? We are still unwinding ourselves from years of misplaced guilt and anger. Still learning how to share our true feelings with each other. Hell, I’m still trying to understand my true feelings at all, much less share them with someone else.
“Happy suits you too,” Devyn adds with another squeeze to my hand.
I roll my eyes at her way when a flash of pink moving through the corridor draws my gaze from her. Pink. Shiny pastel pink. A suit. A pink suit.
Several of our guys experiment with clothes and wear some pretty outlandish stuff occasionally. But I’ve never seen one of our guys in anything close to this pastel pink suit.
This is not one of our guys.
Equal to my height of 6-4 and sporting a head of dreadlocks, bleached blond at the tips. The crisp white shirt and pink intensifies his dark coffee skin and then, holy fucking hell, he flashes a devastating smile my way.
“Fuck me,” TJ says. I hadn’t realized TJ was standing with me. I agree with his sentiment.
I’m sure we look like idiots standing there watching him walk – no, float – by with a not-so-small entourage.
My eyes follow him. They have no choice. He is mesmerizing and I can’t look away/ He does a small double take and turns to hit us with that smile again.
I exhale and turn only to be greeted by Devyn’s smirk.
“Davis Franklin George,” she coos.
“Dammit Devyn, don’t do that.” My full name. I hate hearing my full name. That’s not true anymore, now, is it? That name falling from Carter’s lips… I don’t hate it at all.
“Who, what?” Those are the words filling my head, but it’s TJ who stammers them out in a breathless gust.
“That would be the force that is Nandy Reyes.” She says, unable to hide her amusement at the two of us.
I eye her. I don’t know what that means. He is clearly a force of nature. Beautiful force of nature. But am I supposed to know that name? Is he some rock star I’m too old to know about.
“Fernando Reyes, Jr.,” she looks at me. That still means nothing.
She rolls her eyes, exasperated with me. “He’s doing the anthems tonight.” She threads her arm through mine and tugs, trying to bring me back to earth. Meanwhile TJ is still standing, mouth agape, looking at the now empty corridor where Nandy had just been.
“Oh my,” she says with a giggle. “Come on, you two.” She reaches for TJ. “Trevor Jason Marshall” she says. Again, with the full name. It works, though. He snaps out of his trance, and lets Devyn escort us down the tunnel to watch.
When the beautiful man in the pink suit steps onto the red carpet jutting out onto the ice, TJ and I gasp again, and I take comfort in knowing it’s not just me he’s having this effect upon. I have a very sexy, very straight man next to me, unable to conceal his feelings, too. That fact also helps with the tinge of guilt coming over me that I have a man at home now. But I am human, and looking is still allowed, right?
