3. Isaac

3

ISAAC

“No,” Jamie said the moment I opened my bedroom door, a shirt clutched in my hand.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Not happening.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me, but I could see his smile under it.

“A bet is a bet.” I waved the shirt at him.

“The bet was I’d wear whatever shirt you picked out tonight. That’s not a shirt.”

“It totally is.” I tried to hold it up by the shoulders to show him, but the material twisted into a tangled mess. “One sec.”

Jamie stood quietly as I unraveled the shirt.

The thing was similar to a leotard, only it didn’t have a built-in crotch in it. The shirt was covered in a mess of cutouts, so it kind of looked like fishnet but had a variety of other patterns on it instead of a uniform one. The cutouts were all different shapes and sizes, and the material was super stretchy, at least that’s what the online listing claimed, so it was tiny and looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors to it. I didn’t blame him for being skeptical.

“See, totally shirt-shaped.” I showed off the untangled top. “Ergo, it’s a shirt.”

“It’s tiny.”

“It’ll stretch. Hopefully,” I added. “I’ve got a backup in case it doesn’t.”

“Do I want to know what that one looks like?” He arched his eyebrow and gave me a pointed look.

“Probably not.”

The other shirt was in the same style, only it was way looser and tie-dyed, while this one was black. Both were ridiculous, but at least the black one wasn’t as in your face.

“I hate you.” He held out his hand.

“No, you don’t.” I gave it to him, then leaned against the doorframe as he held it up like it was made of snakes and not polyester.

“How the fuck does this even work?” He pulled on the sides to stretch them out. The thing was still insanely small, but at least now it sort of looked like it was shirt-shaped.

I shrugged. “Same as any other shirt. You pull it over your head, put your arms through the arm holes, and voilà.”

He shot me a flat look. “Thanks. I never would have figured that out on my own.”

“Happy to help.” I tossed him a cheesy grin. “Now hop to it. We’re late.”

“You realize I’m getting you back for this, right?”

“I expect nothing less.” I made a “hurry up” motion with my hand. “I’m waiting for the big reveal.”

“I’ll give you a big reveal,” he muttered, fumbling with the many strings and straps on the shirt as he tried to separate the front from the back to find a way to get it on.

Watching him struggle with it was half the fun, and I was bent over and laughing my ass off by the time he managed to work the thing over his head.

“I hate you,” he repeated, his face ensconced in a mess of strings and straps like he’d gotten caught in a giant black spider web.

“I’m dead,” I wheezed, holding my stomach as he tried to peel the pieces of the shirt down over his face.

“Either help me get this on, or you’re going out alone,” he said, his tone flat and unimpressed.

A snort of laughter tore out of me just as I got control of myself. He’d managed to get his arms into it, but the material was stuck around his elbows and biceps, trapping his arms so they were raised and stuck against his ears.

“Z.” He tried to use his arms to pull the shirt over his head but ended up looking like he was impersonating the top part of a corkscrew.

My laughter faded a little at the nickname. Jamie was the only person who called me Z. Most people didn’t even bother trying to shorten my first name and just called me by my last name. I was used to it, thanks to a decade and a half of playing hockey, but I couldn’t deny the little thrill I got every time Jamie called me Z.

“Hold still, I got you.”

He did as I said, still glaring at me through the shirt, as I stepped up to him and carefully pulled different sections of the material down until his head popped free.

Between the two of us, we got his arms all the way into the shirt and worked it down until it covered his torso.

“Do I look as stupid as I think I do?” He ran one hand down his chest and stomach. “Now I know what cheese feels like.”

“Cheese?” I asked dumbly.

I’d picked the shirt because I’d thought it would be hilarious to not only watch him put it on but also see how ridiculous he looked with his muscular body squished into it.

I couldn’t explain why, but ridiculous wasn’t how I’d describe it now that he had it on. The way it stretched over his muscles was enticing in a way I didn’t understand. The little cutouts created an intricate web of design over his skin that was kind of sexy.

What the hell?

“You know, like when you make cheese and you have to strain it through cheesecloth?” he clarified. “That’s how I feel right now.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever made cheese or thought about how cheese is made,” I said, still a bit weirded out by where my thoughts had just gone.

“I can’t wear this in public.” He flicked his nipples, the hard buds poking through two of the cutouts.

My body tightened, a flush of heat creeping up my neck as the memory of him tweaking his nipple during our threesome invaded my thoughts.

A full week had passed since that mistake, and we’d put it behind us. All the weirdness from before had disappeared, and I’d managed to stop obsessing about it every time I looked at him.

Now I really only thought about it at night when I was trying to sleep or when I had some downtime and wasn’t distracted by other stuff. I could handle that, but these random memory flashes were the worst. They hit out of nowhere and were impossible to ignore because of how visceral my reactions to them were.

“I’ll allow an amendment to our original agreement,” I said. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed my distraction.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile. “You will?”

“Just this once, so you don’t get arrested for accidental nip slips.”

“So generous of you.”

“I know.” I grinned. “You can wear a t-shirt over it while we’re out.”

“So generous,” he repeated, his tone impassive.

“What can I say? I’m awesome.” I gave him a hard slap on the shoulder. “Now go grab a cover-up so we can get going. You’re making us late.”

Jamie flipped me off and stalked into his room.

I tried not to look at his back as he did but failed, my eyes tracing over his strong muscles and the weirdly hot shirt.

He came back a second later in a black t-shirt that fit him like a second skin.

“Before you ask.” He pulled the neckline of his tee down, showing the top of the other shirt. “A bet is a bet.”

“Good boy.”

He punched me in the shoulder. “Asshole.”

“You know it.” I punched him back. “I’ll drive.”

He shot me a weird look. I didn’t offer to drive often because that meant I couldn’t drink but avoiding booze tonight was probably a good idea.

My head was already in a weird place, and drinking would only make it worse.

“Why do you look like you’re picturing someone’s death?”

I glanced at Asa over the rim of my glass as I took a sip of the soda I’d been nursing.

“Am I wrong?” he asked knowingly.

“Yes.” I put my glass down.

“No, I’m not.” He grinned.

“You’re annoyingly observant,” I grumbled.

He grinned wider.

“Shut up.”

“So grumpy tonight.” He clucked his tongue. “And here I thought I was the downer of the group. You’re stealing my thunder.”

I chuckled, some of my bad mood lifting.

Asa and I had started working at Legacy Mechanics three years ago and had been friends ever since. A lot of people didn’t really get Asa and wrote him off as a buzzkill because of his stoic nature, but that was because they didn’t know him.

Once he was comfortable with you, Asa was silly and funny and weird, but in a restrained way. He was also one of the most observant people I’d ever met, and one of the smartest.

“It’s nothing.” I shrugged, cutting my gaze around the crowded bar. “Just a weird night.”

“Uh huh,” he said, his expression dubious.

“It’s nothing,” I repeated, my gaze catching on Jamie and the cute redhead he was talking to.

He’d gone to get another pitcher for the table but had gotten sidelined by the chick who was currently hanging off him.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably as she laughed and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. He said something else, and she smiled up at him, putting one hand on his arm and sidling closer.

Jamie grinned, turning on his million-watt smile.

One of Jamie’s best features was his smile. It was wide and bright and genuine, and it gave him an air of approachability that drew people to him. He knew how to use it too, and for some reason, seeing him smile at her the same way he smiled at every girl he flirted with bothered me.

The girl shifted closer and ran her hand up his arm, then curled it over his bicep like she was testing his muscles.

The churning in my stomach got worse as Jamie flexed for her, showing off his toned arms and letting her grope him.

“You might want to take a look at your pants,” Asa said.

“What?” I shook my head and returned my attention to him. “Pants?”

“Yeah.” Asa’s face was the picture of innocence. “Because I think they might be smoldering.”

“Smoldering?” I blinked a few times, trying to pick up the thread of conversation. “Oh, like they’re on fire because I’m lying?”

“All I’m saying is that whatever you’ve got going on there”—he waved at my face—“isn’t giving off ‘it’s nothing’ vibes.”

“It’s…complicated,” I said lamely.

“Sure it is.” Asa studied me for a moment.

“It is,” I insisted. “But it’s really nothing. Just a weird moment.”

“Okay.” Asa sipped his drink, his black nails stark against the pale ale inside the glass. “If you say so.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Asa about things; it was more that I had no idea what the fuck to say.

So me and Jamie had a threesome last week, but instead of paying attention to the girl, I spent the whole time focused on him and staring into his eyes until we came at the same time. And did I mention that the stupid mesh shirt he has on under his tee is actually really hot on him, and I have no idea why the fuck my dick likes it?

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly a five-minute conversation you could have at the bar with your buddy.

“I’m just going to say something,” Asa said after a pause. “You can do with it what you will, but I think you need to hear it.”

I forced myself to focus on him and stop thinking about Jamie and his redhead for a second.

“You and Jamie are unshakable. Your friendship is the kind that most of us dream of finding. Don’t be a dumbass and shut him out like you do whenever things get difficult.” He held up his hand, stopping my protests before they could start.

“You know you do it, and it’s not your fault. Just don’t push him away because you’re panicking about something. Talk to him, trust him. Don’t let the shit other people have done to you fuck things up with him.”

Slowly, I nodded, taking in every word.

Jamie was my best friend, my ride-or-die, but Asa was my next closest friend. We’d spent a lot of time together over the past three years, and I’d told him more about my life and all the things I kept bottled up than anyone, even Jamie.

Maybe it was because he was so mature for his age that I forgot I was talking to a twenty-two-year-old and not some old person with a ton of life experience and all the wisdom of the world. Asa was also an incredibly good listener. He didn’t just listen to you. He heard you. And he always seemed to know exactly what to say to help me work shit out when I needed it.

I trusted him, and if he was telling me to be careful, then I was going to be careful.

“Thanks. That helped.” I toasted him with my soda.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “No big.”

Almost without my permission, my eyes wandered back to where Jamie was still getting his flirt on with the redhead, who was practically rubbing up against him like a cat in heat now. My mood soured even more.

What the fuck was wrong with me? First I’d gotten jealous enough to agree to a damn threesome when he’d been flirting with April, and now I was seething because he was chatting up some random?

This was what we did. We worked hard and played harder. But tonight wasn’t supposed to be about picking up. We’d come here to have a few drinks with the guys from my shop and hang out.

But that hadn’t happened. Currently, only Asa and I were still at the table.

Jamie was off with his redhead, and Zander was outside getting some air. He wasn’t a fan of crowds, and it wasn’t unusual for him to need to disappear for a bit when we were out. Luka was talking to a blonde near the pool tables, and Jesse was off somewhere making moon-eyes at his boyfriend.

“You still look stabby,” Asa commented.

“I still feel stabby.” I downed a few gulps of my soda, the burning in my throat from the carbonation helping to ground me. “I need a distraction.”

“We could play pool,” Asa suggested with a grin.

“And have you sink all your balls before I even get a shot in? No thanks. I’d like to keep at least a shred of my dignity tonight.”

The first time I played pool against Asa had been a lesson in humility. I hadn’t learned until after that game that he was an actual pool shark and routinely rolled guys for money when they underestimated his skills.

“Darts?” He paused. “Probably not a good idea to give you a weapon you can throw right now.”

“Probably not,” I agreed.

“Then I got nothing.” He shrugged.

“Do you have to head out soon?” I asked, glancing at my watch.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the screen, then tucked it away with a sigh. “Yeah.”

“Where is everyone?” Jamie asked, coming up to the table with a pitcher in his hand.

“Around.” Asa waved in the general direction of the bar.

“Want another?” Jamie asked Asa.

He shook his head. “Gotta head out soon.”

“Right.” Jamie poured half a glass for himself, then put the pitcher on the table. “Forgot you had to bail early.”

“Where’s your redhead?” I asked with all the chill of an overzealous interviewer.

“Redhead?” Jamie blinked at me.

“That girl.” I motioned toward the bar, trying to tamp down my emotions and appear curious, not crazed. “You were chatting her up?”

“Oh, her.” He shrugged. “How should I know?”

“You’re not doing something about that?” I pressed.

Why couldn’t I let it go? Why was I needling him about this?

He shot me a strange look. “No. That’s not what tonight is about.”

I relaxed, guilt replacing my earlier irritation.

“Are you sure you’re not the one being crushed by a polyester cage?” he asked with a grin. “I’m the one who can barely breathe, yet you’re grumpy.”

“How did you get that thing on?” Asa asked, saving me from having to come up with a witty retort. He’d seen part of it when we first got there and had to explain why we were late.

“With a little help and a lot of struggle.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’m stuck in this thing forever.”

“You might need to cut it off,” Asa said, flicking his gaze to me. “Next time get him a bodysuit.”

“Bodysuit?” we both asked.

He nodded, his grin wicked. “Yup. You can even get the kind with built-in shorts or stockings.”

“Hell yeah,” I said at the same time Jamie shook his head with a resounding “No.”

Asa finished the rest of his beer and put the glass on the table. “I’m going to head out. The last thing I need is to show up late and get lectured.”

“Good luck,” Jamie wished him.

“You got this,” I encouraged.

He shot us a wry smile. “Say bye to the others for me?”

We nodded.

“Catch ya on the flip side.” He lifted his hand in a wave.

“Later,” we chorused as he headed away from the table.

“You okay?” Jamie asked.

I nodded. “Fine.”

He slipped his fingers under the neck of his tee and tugged at some of the strings on the bet shirt. “Can you imagine trying to pick up with this on? Not sure how many girls would be down for cutting a random out of a strappy undershirt before the fun could start.”

“I’m sure there are a few girls out there who’d be into that,” I said, my mood almost back to normal. “I used to have a thing with this girl who was into all sorts of goth stuff. She had daggers on her walls and even a few swords. Pretty sure she’d be all over using one of those to cut you out of that thing.”

He laughed. “I had a thing with a goth girl too, back in college.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “She didn’t have knives on her walls or anything, but she loved candle wax.”

“Candle wax? Are we talking about what I think we are?”

“If you think we’re talking about pouring hot wax on people during sex, then yes.”

“Talk about an interesting time to walk into the conversation,” Luka said, sliding in next to us. “You have a thing for hot wax?”

“Not me, a girl I used to hook up with. She loved it. I don’t get the appeal, but it was hot as fuck watching her enjoy it.”

Luka glanced at me. “That sounds like something you’d be into.”

“Nope, not that I’m aware of.” I shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to knock it until I try it, but that’s never been on my radar.”

Luka pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Where’s Zander? Did he head out?”

“He went to get some air,” I said.

“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Luka said, putting his drink on the table.

He darted away before either of us could answer.

“That was weird, right?” Jamie asked.

I nodded, too distracted by my own shit to worry about Luka’s.

Jamie reached under his tee and tugged at the bet shirt again.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He made a face. “Fine. It’s just tight.”

Catching the hem of his tee, I tugged the material up to reveal some of his side.

“Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

The shirt was way tighter on him now than when we left the apartment. The material was so snug that little pockets of his skin bubbled out from under the cutouts, and I could already see a few red streaks on him where the shirt had shifted over the last few hours.

“A bet is a bet.” He shrugged.

“The bet was you wear the shirt I picked out. Being in pain wasn’t part of the deal.” I dropped his tee and scanned the bar for Jesse.

I caught sight of him on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with his boyfriend. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted him.

Isaac : can you watch the table for a minute? I need to save Jamie from his shirt

I watched in real time as Jesse pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked my text. He looked up from his screen and caught my eye, then gave me a quick nod.

“Come on,” I said.

“What about the drinks?” Jamie asked.

“Jesse’s coming to watch them.” I waved in their direction as they walked toward us.

Jamie stood and fell into step beside me as we headed toward the bathrooms.

Thankfully there wasn’t a line for the men’s room, and we were able to walk right in. A few guys were at the urinals, but it was otherwise empty.

“Do you think you can get that off alone?” I asked.

He gave a hopeless shrug. “Maybe? It feels like it’s getting tighter the longer I wear it.”

“In there.” I motioned to a bathroom stall.

He went in. I followed and closed the door behind me. The stall was tiny, barely big enough for both of us to stand in it, but it would have to do.

“Take your shirt off.”

Jamie did as I said, pulling it up over his head.

“Jesus Christ,” I gaped at his torso. It was as bad as that small bit of his side I’d seen. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I repeated.

He shrugged again. “It’s not like I’m dying. Play through the pain and all that.”

I took his tee from him and tucked it into my waistband so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. “This isn’t the championship game. Suffering wasn’t part of the deal. I wanted you to look ridiculous, not cut off your ability to breathe.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” He tugged at the neckline, his grimace telling me it was a big deal.

As ex-hockey players, Jamie and I both experienced the same conditioning growing up. Nothing was more important than the game. Pain was inconsequential as long as you got the W and complaining was somehow a failure.

It took time to break that mindset, and this wasn’t the first time Jamie hid being in pain because of it.

“Shut up and hold still so I can get this off you,” I said, guilt sweeping through me.

I should have realized the stupid shirt would make him so uncomfortable, and I hated that I was the reason he was struggling.

He shot me a soft smile, like he could read where my thoughts had gone and was telling me he knew I didn’t mean for this to happen.

Pulling the shirt on had been tough but trying to yank it up was nearly impossible. The material was stretchy, but it didn’t breathe. The heat from wearing two shirts in a crowded bar made him a bit sweaty, which only made the shirt cling to him like it had been glued on.

After about five minutes of tugging and trying to peel the shirt up, all I managed to do was expose a three-inch strip of his stomach and shift the bottom hem so it cut into his waist instead of across his hips.

“This probably looks really weird to anyone in the bathroom,” he whispered, leaning in close so only I could hear him.

His hot breath tickled my ear and neck, sending little tingles through me.

What the hell?

Ignoring my body’s reaction, I stopped tugging on the shirt.

He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t bothered to stifle my little grunts of frustration every time my hands slipped or I lost my grip and almost punched one of us in the face during my struggles.

It probably looked and sounded like we were hooking up.

“Do you trust me?” I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes on my keychain as I separated my penknife from the ring.

“It’ll take forever to cut it off, but I can at least open up the chest so you can breathe better.” I tucked my keys away. “You good with that? We can get the rest off when we get home.”

“Yeah. That’ll help.” He let out a shuddery breath. “It’s getting worse.”

I flipped the small knife out of the sheath. “All that yanking on it didn’t help.” I showed him the blade. It wasn’t sharp, but it was still a knife. “You still good with this?”

“Yeah, of course.” He sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing?” I slipped my finger under the hem of the shirt and tugged as far away from his stomach as I could.

“Sucking it in.”

I snort-laughed. “Sucking what in? Your six-pack?” Carefully, I slid the blade under the hem. The material caught on the knife, not giving at all when I pulled on it. I’d have to saw it.

“More like a two-pack.” He relaxed and stood normally. “Been slacking on the gym lately.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, concentrating on sawing the hem and not stabbing him in the stomach. “Same. I blame you.”

For the past three years, Jamie and I had stuck to a pretty rigorous workout routine. Partly because we’d spent most of our lives as elite athletes and working out multiple times a day hadn’t been uncommon for us, but also because the gym gave us another outlet for our excess energy.

We’d cut our five days a week schedule down to two, sometimes three, days because it was easier to sit at home and eat snacks than it was to get our ass to the gym when we weren’t feeling it.

“Me?” He huffed out a laugh. “You’re just as guilty as me for finding excuses to not go.”

“I’ll give you that.” I paused and shot him a quick grin. “You know me, I’m the world’s worst enabler.”

“You really are. I swear you can justify anything if you want it bad enough.”

“It’s a gift,” I said, resuming my work on the hem. “How about whoever tries to back out of gym time has to…” I couldn’t think of a good dare when I was focusing on the task at hand.

“Wear the gold shorts to show their shame.”

I paused again, a laugh bubbling out of my chest. “Deal.”

The shorts in question were a pair of gold lamé booty shorts that had been part of a Halloween costume I’d worn years ago. They covered just enough to not be indecent during a workout but were absolutely ridiculous looking. We’d both had to wear the shorts multiple times after losing bets, and I didn’t see us retiring them any time soon.

Finally, the knife snagged against the seam of the hem. I closed the blade and pressed it into Jamie’s hand. “Hold this.”

Gripping the edges of the slice I’d cut through the folded part of the hem, I pulled hard, yanking on the ends until the cut ripped through the thicker stitching of the seam.

Now the bottom hugged his waist instead of digging into it.

“Better?” I looked up at his face to see how he was doing and took the knife back.

“Yeah.” He breathed in, then let it out in a rush.

Opening the knife again, I tackled some of the strappy parts snaking across his chest. The thinner strips were easy to cut through, but the thicker ones were too much for my knife.

Giving up on trying to cut all the way through them, I focused on sawing a big enough slice into the material so I could tear the rest.

“I’m going to have quite the story to tell at work on Monday when Delilah asks what we got up to this weekend.”

I snickered. “What are you going to tell her?”

Delilah was Jamie’s closest work friend. They’d started at the bank at the same time and had gone through training together.

She loved hearing the stories of our many adventures, and she was an amazing baker and food blogger who used us as her taste testers when she tried new recipes.

“That you made me wear a shredded leotard as a dare, and we ended up having to cut me out of it in the bathroom of a bar using your grandpa’s penknife.”

“She’s going to laugh her ass off.”

“As she should.” He made a soft sound, not quite a grunt, but close enough.

“You good?” I looked up at him.

He grimaced. “Yeah. Just uncomfortable.”

I could feel heat radiating off his skin. “Are you getting hot?” Being squished into the stall together, on top of all the pulling and yanking and cutting, was making me sweat. It had to be so much worse for him being encased in skintight polyester.

He nodded. “A bit.”

Snapping the blade closed, I slipped the knife away. “Just let me rip these open. That should help.”

“Yeah, okay.” He huffed out a little sigh. “I’m so getting you back for this.”

“I deserve it.” I shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He smiled. “All good, Z. I know that.”

Tearing my eyes from his, I gripped one of the thicker straps I’d sliced. “Hold still.”

It took way more effort than I’d admit to tear the strips, and we were both sweating and a little out of breath by the time I ripped the last one open.

Jamie’s expression went blissful as he drew in a big breath, holding it with his chest puffed out for a few seconds.

The brush of his pecs against mine sent a zing through me as a memory of Jamie with that same expression during our dreaded threesome flashed in my mind’s eye.

Awareness crackled in my consciousness as the world sort of tunneled again, the edges of my vision fading until all I could see was Jamie and the look of utter bliss on his face.

Loudly, he blew out the breath, his whole body relaxing as he did. The scrape of his chest against mine had the same effect as being touched with a live wire. My breathing hitched, my heart raced, and all my higher reasoning shut down.

As he exhaled, Jamie leaned forward, his face inching closer to mine.

Without thinking, without even knowing what I was doing, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

Alarm bells went off in my head the second our lips connected, all my faculties coming back to me in the same instant I realized what I’d done. What I was still doing.

What the fuck?

I jerked away at the same moment his eyes flew open. He froze, his face a mask of shock, then jumped back as well.

“Sorry,” I croaked.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why had my instinct been to kiss my best friend? I wasn’t into guys, and this was Jamie . What the fuck had possessed me to kiss him?

Jamie stared at me, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. He shook his head like he was forcing himself back into reality. “It’s fine.” He smiled, but it was wobbly and forced. “Got a little too excited about being able to breathe and didn’t notice how close I was getting.”

“It wasn’t you?—”

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Accidents happen, right?”

I knew I should tell him the truth, that I’d kissed him and it had nothing to do with him getting too close or not paying attention, but something in his eyes was off. They were pleading, like he wanted me to agree with him, even if it wasn’t true.

“Right.” Clearing my throat, I tugged his t-shirt free from my waistband and handed it to him. “Another crazy story, right?”

“Right.” He grabbed the shirt and flipped it around in his hands to find the bottom. “It’s always something with us.”

His tone was strange, and his movements were jerky, like he wasn’t fully in control of himself but was trying to seem unaffected by what had just happened.

I cut my gaze away from him and stared at the wall.

It was pointless to avert my eyes now, especially since we were still toe-to-toe and I’d just spent ten minutes staring at his cutout-covered torso, but I needed a second to get my head back in order.

First I’d gotten jealous when Jamie had been talking to that chick at the bar, then I’d kissed him without even thinking about it.

Was this leftover from last weekend? Was I still so out of sorts that it was making me act like a nutbar tonight?

“Ready?”

Jamie’s soft voice startled me out of my musings. I jumped, bumping our chests hard enough we both teetered on our feet.

“You okay?” he asked, grabbing my arms and steadying me.

“Yeah. Fine.” I smiled, but even I could tell that it probably looked like I was trying to hold in a fart and not an actual smile. “Ready to go home?”

“How about we hang out for a bit longer?” he suggested.

“Yeah, that works. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Sticking around and hanging out was a much better option than going home. I needed some time to process everything that happened tonight, and to do that, I needed a distraction. And to not be alone with Jamie until I got over whatever had possessed me to kiss him.

“Now that I can breathe, I’ll be fine.” He smiled crookedly. “And I could really use a drink.”

I started to say “Me too,” but stopped. Drinking right now was off the table. Not just because I was driving, but also because using booze to solve my problems was a habit I’d broken years ago. I wasn’t about to backslide now.

“Let’s see if they’re still around,” I said instead.

Only a few guys were in the washroom when I opened the door to the stall. The guys at the urinal ignored us, but the ones at the sink openly stared at us, not being subtle with their curiosity as we left the stall.

Ignoring them, Jamie and I made our way back into the bar. Jesse and Sebastian were still at the table, a half-full pitcher on the table between them.

“Have you been saved?” Sebastian asked with a smirk when he saw us.

“Mostly,” Jamie said as we came up to the table.

“Did you get that thing off? You were gone for a while,” Jesse asked.

“Nope, but Z cut a bunch of it up so I can breathe again.” Jamie dropped into the seat across from him.

“You two are ridiculous.” Jesse leaned back in his chair and slung his arm over the back of Bas’s seat.

“Tell us something we don’t know.” I sat across from Jesse, pasting on my best smirk-smile and giving them a little shrug. “At least we keep you entertained.”

“That you do,” Jesse agreed. “Are Luka and Zander around?”

“Not sure. Luka went to check on Zander just before I texted you. He needed some air.”

Jesse nodded. “And Asa left?”

“Shit, yeah. I forgot to say bye for him.”

Jesse grinned. “You forgot something? Shocker.” He pointed at the pitcher. “Another?”

Jamie nodded and went to grab his still half-full glass from where he’d put it earlier.

“I’ll get you a fresh glass.” I jumped up.

“Are you sure?” Jamie asked. “It’s not like I can’t mix old and new beer if it’s from the same pitcher.”

“I’ve got it. I need another soda anyway.”

Not waiting to see if they accepted my excuses, I hurried away from the table and toward the bar.

What happened in the bathroom wasn’t a big deal.

It was a weird night after having a weird week. That was it.

I just had to get over whatever the fuck was going on with me and everything would go back to normal.

An accidental kiss between friends wasn’t the end of the world.