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Robby dropped the visor and gave himself a once-over in the mirror. He needed a haircut; his mom would be aghast at how his bangs kept falling into his eyes. Brushing his long locks back with his hands, he checked one side of his face, then the other—for what, he didn’t know. He looked like himself. It wasn’t like Matt would care anyway.
He closed the visor with a snap.
This was ridiculous.
The idea didn’t stop him from practicing his smile as he climbed out. Not too big; he didn’t want to look like a shark. Maybe a smirk. No—a lopsided grin. Everyone loved a lopsided grin.
Now, what to say?
“Hey, buddy, long time no see.”
Lame.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Lamer.
“I heard you were the guy to see about some Rum Punch.”
Eh.
He paused outside of the door and almost hightailed it back to the car. But Kane’s voice echoed in his head, telling him to nut up or shut up, and it gave him the push he needed to grab the handle and venture inside.
Only to stop in his tracks at the scene in front of him. Matt—on a barstool with his eyes closed—with a woman sitting beside him. She was black, her skin just a shade lighter than Matt’s. Her hair was natural: with little twists pulled away from her face with a cloth headband.
Not beautiful but striking. Her eyebrows were lined and perfectly arched. And the way she stared at Matt—her brown eyes were liquid and reflected a longing so deep, it made Robby’s stomach clench.
Slowly, she leaned forward, and a smile blossomed on Matt’s face.
Robby turned on his heel before he had to see their lips meet. His mouth dried up like a desert, and his heart dropped to his stomach.
It didn’t matter how many times he’d reminded himself Matt was unattainable. That he was grateful to have just their friendship. He’d only lied to himself. Well-intended lies, perhaps, but still patently untrue.
If anything, the time he’d spent with Matt only added fuel to the fire, and their kiss leveled it up to an inferno. Now reality smacked him square in the face.
His body went on auto-pilot, his mind checking out while his heart screamed for comfort. He blinked as he found himself standing in front of Nitro. Somehow, he’d missed how close Matt’s bar was to his old haunt. Just a half a block away and across the street. Obviously, some part of him had taken note, because here he was.
It wasn’t hard at all to walk in—mostly because he’d broken the ice with his recent return and, even more importantly, because John never hit the bar scene this early in the day.
The music thumped across the walls and from the floor up through the soles of his feet, pushing a constant, reverberating tingle into his legs. The familiar sensation comforted him, born of a hundred nights experiencing the same thing.
He settled at the bar and lifted a finger at the bearded bartender serving a couple a few feet away. Even in the early afternoon, most of the bar seats were filled and more than a dozen men were grinding against each other on the dance floor.
“What can I get you, sugar?” The bartender hooked a thumb in the suspenders he wore over his bare chest, drawing Robby’s eyes to his smooth pecs and pierced nipple.
“Hook us up with some lemon drops, Lucas.” Parker put a hand on his shoulder before perching on the stool beside him. “Leave the bottle and just put it on my tab.”
The bartender winked, then turned to the wall of liquor bottles displayed behind him. He pulled down a bottle of Absolute Citron and set it on the bar before pushing forward a box of lemon wedges and a shaker, presumably filled with sugar. “Can I get you anything else?” Lucas leaned toward Parker, covering the man’s hand with his own.
Parker smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just some shot glasses. We’ll call you if we need you.”
Nodding, Lucas pulled the glasses from under the bar. His eyes moved from Parker to Robby, then back again. He blew Parker a kiss as he backed away toward the men gathered a few feet down.
Robby tugged the glasses toward himself. He could have a drink, dammit. It wasn’t the same as using. “I always associate these with you, you know.” The vodka made a satisfying splash as he poured it.
Parker licked the top of his hand and sprinkled the sugar on his damp skin. “Remember when we killed the whole bottle? The last time the gang was all here.” He reached into the box for a lemon wedge. “Five years ago, maybe? I think it was my birthday.”
As he’d done so many times in the past, he mirrored Parker’s actions, smattering his hand with sugar and grabbing a lemon. He didn’t wait to play out the ritual, licking the sweetness before tipping back his shot. The citrus flavor played across his tongue for a moment before he followed it up with the tart lemon.
