Brett (Boys & Toys Season 2 2)

I’ve got my arm around his waist, holding him close to me, our barstools nearly touching. “Wish you did?”

“Nah. It’s not as much my scene, ironically.”

“What is your scene?”

“How it used to be. Like, at the frat house.”

I wrinkle up my face. “Full of straight dudes, unidentified odors, and piles of dirty laundry?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe it is. Up until a few nights ago, I had thought you were one of those straight dudes.”

“Touché,” I mumble back, then kiss him. Skylar grins against my mouth. I pull away. “Maybe you and I will start our own frat situation in the future. Except it’ll be just us and our closest friends. And we can make up our own house rules.”

“Or better yet: have none.”

“Is it weird that I still miss you,” I say suddenly to him, “and yet you’re right here?”

Skylar peers into my eyes searchingly.

Just then, Connor swings by the bar to pick up a tray of shots in his purple bootie shorts, sparkly bowtie, and boots. “Hey, Con!” I greet him.

He glances at me distractedly, as if not having noticed I’m here at all. “Oh, hey.” He tries to smile, but the stress is evident on his face.

I can’t take another day of this. “Connor, what is going on with you?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing.” He starts to lift the tray onto his shoulder.

I reach a hand to his arm. “Is it Alan?”

Connor sets the tray back down and appears to take a long, slow breath. Then he faces me. “No. It’s Zak.”

I squint. “Zak? Our Zak from across the hall? He’s not even working tonight.”

“I know, and that’s great, because his stalker is here poking around for him.”

“Stalker?”

“Yes! No one’s taking it seriously.” Connor sits on the barstool next to me. “Least of all Larry, who thinks I’m overreacting. Oh. Are you Skylar?” he asks suddenly, his eyes going wide.

Skylar brightens up. “You must be the roomie Brett can’t stop talking about!”

“And you, his old roomie from the frat days!” Connor exclaims cheerily. “Likewise, he won’t shut up about you.”

Skylar laughs. “Nice to meet you, Connor.”

“Your sister is bad-ass! Oh, and she invited me and Alan to the wedding, so it looks like I’ll be asking for Saturday off! They sure know how to party. I’m bringing them their fifth tray of shots!”

“Well, don’t let me stop you!” I tell him with a playful swat at his ass. “By the way, who is this stalker, and does he need his ass kicked?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my eye on him, and he’s not gonna—” Connor gazes around the dim, crowded room, confused suddenly. “Where’d that fucker go? Shit.” He grabs his tray and hurries off toward the sister’s party without another word, his purple bootie wagging in his tiny shorts.

I peer at Sky, finding his expression lost again. “Something on your mind?”

He gives me a distracted look, then puts on a very tight (and unconvincing) smile. “You’re on my mind. And—maybe if I’m being more honest—that night we shared in your apartment is also dancing around my brain quite a lot.”

I can’t fight the grin on my face—convinced or not that Skylar is actually okay. “I can’t stop thinking about it either. I’ve been bouncing everywhere I go all week. The next morning was amazing, too.”

Skylar bites his lip, as if remembering when we woke up in each other’s arms. Of course, I had actually woken up half an hour earlier than he did, and I just lay there in that bed, enjoying the feeling of having my buddy scooped up in my arms, his back against my chest, my face buried in his neck. We were sweaty and our bodies felt fused, but I didn’t want that moment to end.

But even after it did, the morning only got sweeter and sweeter as I took him out for breakfast at the diner on the corner before getting him a Lyft back to his hotel. The morning seemed to last the length of a hundred of the sweetest mornings, and yet it was gone in a snap.

Sky meets my eyes. “Maybe we can do it again tonight?” he suggests. “I’m pretty sure my sister is planning to take all her ladies back to their hotel where the party will go on into the morning. I hope Emilio isn’t pissed she’s been given an epic party that makes his bachelor party look sad and lame.”

“He can blame me,” I assure him, smiling. “I’m kind of the devil on everyone’s shoulder.”

Skylar chuckles, then kisses me tenderly. That kiss turns into something deeper, and it isn’t long before our hands are all over each other’s bodies.

And whatever troubling thought was clouding Skylar’s face is long forgotten.

13

“I’ve never actually been to a wedding,” I admit.

Skylar turns to me. We’re lying on my bed.