Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Mitch

“What’s with the face?” Dawson asked, poking me in the side like a juvenile.

I took a sip of my beer as Weston flirted relentlessly with his boyfriend, my oldest friend, Cade.

Dawson and Cade were probably the closest thing I had to what one would call a best friend . Cade and I had hung out since middle school, and after he and Dawson broke up, the guy refused to leave. But with that being said, I actually enjoyed his idiocy most of the time.

When I was in a better mood that was.

“What face?” I deadpanned as Nolan came back to the table with a handful of drinks. True to his white knight nature, Cade immediately moved to help him, abandoning whatever Weston was going on about.

“Thanks,” Nolan said, his glasses sliding down his nose in the process as the liquid sloshed around in the glasses. Miraculously, nothing spilled as Cade helped pass out drinks.

“The constipated face you’re currently making,” Dawson nipped. “I would think you’d still be smiling from ear to ear from the wedding. I know I am,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat for added idiot effect.

Dawson was like that.

Like a big, dumb golden retriever. Most of the time, I didn’t mind.

But Dawson was right, I was in a mood, and I had been ever since Amy showed up to crash my date—no, meeting —with Penn.

It wasn’t like I thought Cream Puff and I were going to run off into the sunset after one box of baked goods and some stupid flirting, so why did it bother me so much?

“Yeah, well, you don’t have over three thousand images to cull for editing either,” I snapped back.

Weston took a sip of his drink before wrapping his arm around Cade again, for like the fifth time since they’d arrived only an hour ago, which was also irritating me.

Fuck, maybe I just need to get shitfaced to forget about this weird ass day... Go home and work on some photos.

“No, that’s not it,” Weston mulled, his tone accusatory.

I shot him a glare.

Since he’d started dating Cade, he made it his business to know everything about our little group.

Who was crushing on who, what social gala was I photographing next, was everyone free for Poker on Sunday?

It was nice to have someone in the group to take over organizing shit, but it also got on my nerves.

Aside from my jobs, I didn’t schedule shit. I liked the spontaneity of life and not knowing what was going to happen or where I was going to end up.

I looked at my friends, canoodling with their boyfriends like some gay version of the Stepford Wives, and it only pissed me off even more.

“Weston’s right, something else is on your mind. I can tell.” Dawson poked me in the ribs again, and I smacked his hand.

“Come on, Mitch, let it out. I promise you’ll feel better,” Dawson teased.

Nolan rolled his eyes. “If he doesn’t want to talk about it, leave the guy alone.”

I shot an appreciative glance at Nolan, the newest addition to the group. A part of me had to give the guy props, for being Dawson’s other half couldn’t have been easy.

And from what I’d seen, Nolan might be the only person on the planet who could actually get Dawson to stop and sit still, to be quiet, with just a damn look.

Knowing Dawson, it was probably some sort of sex role-play thing, but I liked to think underneath all of that steam, it was more than that .

I saw the way he looked at the pencil pusher.

I’d give my left nut for some pretty boy to look at me like that.

Pretty Boy...

I sighed, figuring fighting the truth was moot.

Besides, I was on my second beer of the night, and I hadn’t even gotten to karaoke yet.

“Nothing. I just have, like, the worst gaydar on the planet sometimes.”

A resounding, “Oh,” followed from Dawson, louder than it should have been.

“Rejected by a straight man?” Weston nonchalantly drawled.

“Worse,” I admitted as Nolan pushed Dawson in the chest, the two of them play-fighting over something.

“Worse?” Cade asked, his eyebrows furrowing as his baby blues fixated their concerned gaze on me.

“I think I have a fucking awakening on my hands.”

Nolan let out a, “Fuck,” while Weston only shrugged.

“I don’t see the problem,” Weston said as I took another sip of my own drink .

“Yeah, well, you may be the type to just roll in and command shit, Wes, but some of us actually have to play by the rules. Especially when it involves our jobs,” I snarled.

“So, you’re working with him?” Nolan pressed.

I sighed, figuring there was no use denying it.

“Sort of. We met today to go over the job. Some social media campaign stuff, and...”

“And what?” Dawson pressed as I scanned the room.

At that moment, just as I opened my mouth, I saw him. He’d just walked in, alone, with another one of those pink boxes, looking like a lost kitten.

My heart lurched in my chest as I swatted at Dawson, excusing myself from the table.

“Fine, it’s my turn to sing anyway,” Dawson touted from behind me, but his voice was white noise.