“It’s your life.”
“Yeah. But what happens when you can’t pay the bills and your family offers you some sort of stability? A new car, an apartment, a way to get on my feet financially instead of traveling like a gypsy and hoping for a gig.”
“You took it.”
“I took it.” Reid sighed. “They’re good people. They mean the best, I know they do. But it’s hard not to be resentful after everything that’s happened—”
“Because you wouldn’t have been back here with a new car, and there wouldn’t have been an accident,” I finished. “That’s a good reason to be pissed off to me, but I’d be willing to bet their guilt is just as bad.”
“That’s why I’m trying not to be pissed.”
“Well, things could be worse. You could be a banker like your dad. Although middle schoolers might be worse. What’s your mom do?”
Reid looked up at me and smiled sadly. “Mom’s a teacher.”
Ahh. Well, there you have it. He didn’t have to say anything else. The pressures of family and a lack of money would lead anyone to choose the stable life.
As Reid finished the last few notes, I began to clap, and then he stood and gave an exaggerated bow.
“I think you deserve a tip after that.”
“Twenties and fifties only, please.”
“Damn. If that’s the going rate for a pianist tip these days, I’ll have to stay home. I was thinking of something a little sweeter?”
“Oh yeah? I’m willing to negotiate.”
“It all depends on if you’re still full. There’s a killer ice cream shop down the street, and—”
“Sold,” Reid said, grabbing my arm to pull me off the bench, while I laughed at his eagerness.
“Ice cream is his kryptonite. Good to know,” I said to myself as I got to my feet.
“Hurry up, Ollie,” Reid said, his eyes glittering. “I’m suddenly starving.”
Chapter Seven
THE LAST FEW days had flown by; I’d taken on twelve-hour shifts instead of my usual eight, and was starting to get antsy. It’d been three days since I’d seen Reid, and I found myself pacing my house like a crack addict searching for a hit.
Pathetic.
Unfortunately, there’d be no time for a fix, since I’d promised to go out tonight with the guys. We used to get together at least once a week downtown, whether to shoot pool or go out for beers, but lately life had gotten in the way, not only for me, but for us all.
After a quick shower, I threw on some jeans and ripped the tags off a long-sleeved Henley I’d bought the other day. The weather couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be hot or cold this week, so I had to buy some new clothes that would serve both.
I scooped a bit of pomade onto my fingers and then worked it through my hair. The auburn strands were naturally wavy, and since it tended to be a bit unruly, I tried to tame it as best I could. I kept the sides and back buzzed, because otherwise, things could turn messy, and fast.
My cell rang as I was finishing up, and I wiped my hands off before answering.
Mike. No doubt he was calling to make sure I didn’t back out.
“Yes, I’m still coming, Mom,” I said as a greeting.
“Actually, that’s why I was calling. I’m sorry to do this to you, man, but Ted and I got held up at the station, so it might be a late night. Mind if we raincheck for the weekend?”
It was probably shitty of me to feel relieved, but, well, I was. I’d always enjoyed a night out, but my mind had been preoccupied with someone else for far too long to think about anything else. “Fine with me. You guys need a hand?”
“Nah, we’ve got it. But maybe this frees you up for a little action with your guy, yeah?”
I groaned. “He’s not my guy, and there won’t be any action. Just get that out of your head.”
“Never say never, my man. One sec.” He must’ve pulled the phone away from his ear, because there was indistinct conversation, and then, “Sorry, Ollie, gotta run. Let the others know, would ya?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
When I hung up, an idea began to form, and before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my wallet and headed out the door.
TWO MINUTES LATER, I was on the front porch of Reid’s parents’ house ringing the doorbell. If I couldn’t get him out of my mind, may as well do something about it.
A few seconds later, Reid opened the door, a mixture of surprise and delight on his handsome face. Barefoot and in his black athletic pants and a t-shirt, he was the hottest picture of casual I’d ever seen, and I had to stop my jaw from dropping.
“Ollie,” he said. “What brings you by?”
“You up for bowling?”
He blinked. “Bowling? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
A massive grin broke out on his face. “Hell yeah. Now?”
“Unless you’re busy.”
“No, now’s good.” He paused and looked down at his outfit. “I should probably change—”
“No, don’t,” I said quickly, and when he lifted his brows, I shrugged as if I didn’t think he looked drop-dead fucking gorgeous as he did. “What you’ve got on is fine.”
“Yeah? Okay, let me just throw on my shoes, then.” He disappeared for a minute, and then he was back, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it. As he shrugged into a light jacket, his eyes roved over my chest, and I felt his gaze like it was a branding iron. “I like that shirt,” he said, flipping his collar up. “It’s the same color as your eyes, almost.”
The way he said it sounded so offhand that I didn’t think he even realized he was paying another man a compliment. It just came out naturally, like he was talking about the weather.
Of course, inside I was preening like a proud peacock that he’d even looked at me that way.
“Thank you,” I said. “Ready?”
“Ready,” he said.
In a teasing mood now, I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t think you’re prepared for what’s about to go down, but I look forward to the challenge.”
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He laughed. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”
As we stepped off the porch, a white SUV pulled into the driveway beside my car, and his mom stepped out, as immaculately put together as the first and only time I’d seen her in Reid’s hospital room. She lifted one of those reusable grocery bags, packed to the brim, out of the back seat and then started up the walkway, and when she saw me, she startled.
“Oliver…hello,” she said, shifting the bag to her hip as a polite smile crossed her lips. “How are you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Valentine. I’m just fine, and yourself?”
“Hey, Mom. We’re going bowling,” Reid informed her before she could answer. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” She looked curiously between me and Reid. “Just be careful.”
Reid kissed his mother’s cheek and reached for the bag she carried. “Will do. Can I take this inside for you?”
“What? No, no, I’ve got it. You boys go have fun.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Valentine,” I said, pulling my keys out of my pocket. “I’ll guard him with my life.”
“Of course.” Her brow furrowed, but she managed another small smile, but all the way down to my car, I could feel her questioning gaze on my back.
AFTER CHANGING INTO the ugly shoes that seemed to be required by all bowling alleys across the country, Reid and I picked out our bowling balls and, seeing as there was no one in the lane beside us, commandeered the two chairs behind the monitors.
“I’m guessing you don’t want Ant-Man,” I teased, as I set up our user profiles. Reid had listed my name as Superman, of course, but in my mind, he didn’t need a made-up name. Valentine was as perfect as it got.
“What about Bluebird?” he suggested.
I whipped my head around to face him, my mouth falling open. Where did that come from? “How do you…” I said, at a loss for wo
rds. When had I even told him— Oh. In the ambulance, when I didn’t think he could hear me. Way to word-vomit, Ollie.
“Isn’t that what you called me?” Reid said, and then frowned. “I didn’t dream that, did I?”
“Uh, no. No, you didn’t dream that.” I could feel the hot flush of embarrassment spread through my body. Why was it that this man had that effect on me? I’d never been the kind of person who got self-conscious over anyone, but Reid? He reduced me to teenaged Ollie status; I only hoped it wouldn’t show.
“I like Bluebird,” Reid said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He’d healed so well on the outside, his skin smooth and not bearing a trace of the glass that had been embedded only weeks earlier. “Ollie?”
“Hmm?” I shook myself out of my stupor. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
“I said, why don’t you put that down?” Reid gestured to the monitor.
“You want to be Bluebird?”
“I thought I already was.”
Damn. Stomach. Flip.
“Right,” I said, typing in the nickname I’d thought up for him all those months ago.
Reid swirled his straw in his soda, his gaze falling past me. “That guy’s watching you.”
“Who?” I said, looking around at the lane closest to ours.
“No, over there in lane eight, in the red shirt.”
I turned around and immediately locked eyes with an attractive dark-haired guy, maybe mid-thirties. He smiled my way, but whereas I’d normally give him the signal to come on over, I spun back around to the monitor to finish setting up.
“What?” Reid asked. “Is he not your type?”
“I’m not here to meet guys. I’m here to kick your ass,” I said, getting to my feet, and then I picked up the ball I’d chosen from the rack earlier. After lining up my shot, I sent the ball speeding down the alley, the impact knocking all ten pins down in one fell swoop.
I sauntered back to Reid with an eat my dust smirk on my face and took the seat beside him.
“Oh, we’ve got a pro on our hands. Okay, then.” Reid stood up and stretched his body from side to side in exaggerated movements that had me grinning.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Show me up. I dare you.”
He took his time lining up his shot, but when he released the ball, it landed with a loud thunk and promptly went into the gutter.
When I raised an eyebrow, he said, “I meant to do that.”
Reid’s second roll managed to do only slightly better, knocking down two of the pins. When he sat down next to me and saw the grin on my face, he shrugged. “What? I’m the one with the brain injury. You should be going easy on me.”
I bellowed out a laugh as I stood to take my turn. “You’re some kind of musical prodigy. You can let me have this.”
“Hey, Superman. I don’t have to let you have shit. I’m just warming up.”
I let out a low whistle at his teasing and said, “It’s getting serious now. Care for a wager?”
“For how many points you’ll let me win by?”
“I’m not letting you do a damn thing. I don’t like to lose.”
I rolled another strike, and when I plopped back in my seat, Reid shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret all my smack talk.”
“Giving up so soon?”
“Never.” Then something over my shoulder caught his attention. “He’s still looking.”
“Red shirt? Let him look.”
“You’re really not interested?”
“Would you really want me to up and leave you here to bowl by yourself?”
Reid frowned. “Not really. Apparently I’m a shitty bowler. I shouldn’t be left alone. At least not without gutter bumpers.”
Chuckling, I pushed him off his seat. “Go forth and gutter it, then. It’s your turn.”
“Minigolf,” Reid said when he returned after two gutter balls in a row. “I bet I’m really kickass at minigolf.”
“You want me to give you a couple of pointers on your next turn? Free of charge.”
“And admit you’re the bowling king? Never.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, but before I could pick up my ball, Reid ran up behind me.
“Okay, okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to at least learn how to avoid the gutter.”
“You think?” I grinned and stepped onto the platform. “Now watch what I’m doing. I’m turned just slightly to the right, and I’m far enough away to make about four steps before I let the ball go. Now, to try for a strike, the ball needs to hit the pocket between the first and third pins. That’s the one in the front and the one to its right. So that’s where I aim.” I backed up and then followed the instructions I’d just laid out for him, and a few seconds later, the ball smashed into the pins, sending them scattering.
Reid put his hands low on his hips. “I’m pretty sure that’s how I was doing it.”
“You let go of the ball so late there’s probably a dent in the lane. Come here.”
He hugged the ball to his chest, and when he moved closer, I put my hands on his shoulders and guided him to where he needed to stand. “See those arrows down there? You’re right-handed too, so you want to aim for the second arrow on the right. And make sure you get low enough to let the ball slide out of your hands.”
“Oh, so you don’t throw it like a baseball?” Reid said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and had he been mine, I would’ve been tempted to kiss that smirk right off his face.
“No, smart-ass.” I tried to ignore how close we were, his back brushing against my front. I tried not to breathe in the scent of the shampoo he wore or run my hands down his shoulders to his biceps. I didn’t need to think about the way his skin would feel beneath my hands, or imagine the quiver of his stomach as I reached for the button of his pants…
“You want me to drop it where?”
I let go of him and stepped to the side to give him room to move. “Take about four steps, keep your eye on that arrow, and then sweep it through like this once you get about here,” I said, showing him the follow-through.
Reid switched the ball to his other hand and then mimicked my movement. “Like that?”
“Yeah, except turn your arm a bit.” I reached for his wrist, felt the steady thrumming pulse beneath my fingertips, so much stronger than the last time I’d touched him that way, and then angled him the right way. When I looked up, Reid’s dark eyes were watching me with interest, and something in his expression made my heart skip a beat. “Try that,” I said softly, and then let go of him and backed away to watch.
Reid focused back on the lane and took his time lining himself up, and when he let go of the ball this time, it fell from his hands and smoothly rolled down the lane before knocking out over half the pins.
“Hell yes,” I said as Reid grinned. “So much better.”
“You’ve given up your secrets now. Just a matter of time until I overtake the master.”
Feel free to overtake me anytime, I thought. “Seven pins down and he turns cocky bastard.”
He laughed and retrieved his ball. “Now what do I do about the rest of these?”
I gasped. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Of course I do. I’m not some amateur. I’m just curious what you would do.”
“Mhmm, sure,” I said, enjoying the tease as I once again directed him where to stand and where to aim to knock down the remaining pins. “All right, Bluebird. Show me what you got.”
I could’ve sworn I felt him tremble faintly beneath my hands before I let go, but I had to be imagining things.
He took an unsteady step forward but then recovered and sent the ball sailing down the lane. When he knocked down all the pins but one, he gave a loud whoop before spinning around and pointing at me.
“See that? I’m coming for you.”
I certainly hope so. “I do like a challenge. Bring it on.”
Reid laughed until his eyes shifted past me, and then his smile dimmed. I turned to see red-shirt guy
standing by our chairs, his head cocked to the side as he gave me a not-subtle-at-all once-over.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, slowly bringing his gaze up to my face, “but I noticed you were giving your friend pointers, and I thought…maybe you could help me as well?”
Pointers? The only thing that guy wanted pointers on was the best way to suck me off.
“Actually, I’m a little busy—”
“That’s okay. I’m a quick learner,” he said, a seductive edge to his voice. “It won’t take long.”
“I don’t think—”
“You should go,” Reid said, and when I shot him a look, he gave me a tight smile. “It’s selfish to keep you all to myself when you could be helping someone else.”
So? Be selfish, I wanted to say, but when I started to protest, he inclined his head toward the concessions.
“I’m gonna grab some fries or something,” he said. “Take your time.”
“Reid—” I went to follow him, but red-shirt guy stepped in front of me.
“Where should we start? I think I might be using the wrong size ball. Maybe I could use yours instead?” He looked down at the zipper of my pants.
Jesus, really? I glanced over at Reid, standing alone in the concession line. I couldn’t think about some other guy, even an in-your-face guy like red shirt. Not when I could still feel the way Reid’s arm brushed against mine every time he moved past me or sat beside me, and not while the intoxicating cologne he wore filled my nose and made my head spin.
“Look,” I said, “I appreciate that you want my…help, but I’m not interested. Find someone else’s balls to play with.”
And before he could say another word, I hightailed it up to the concession stand just as Reid moved to the counter.
“I think I’m in the mood for nachos,” I said, sidling up next to him and scanning the menu.
Reid did a double take. “Where’d your new friend go?”
I shrugged and handed the teenager behind the counter a ten-dollar bill to cover both our orders. “Away.”
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