by Ashlyn Kane
“Wise to be wary, then,” Ari agreed.
As Afra cleared her throat, Jax glanced over Ari’s shoulder and his eyes widened.
“Oh. Hi.” He lifted a hand to wave. He didn’t appear to wish to crawl into a hole out of embarrassment, like Ari, but he seemed uncertain what to say. He probably didn’t want to make any assumptions.
Best take the plunge. “Jax, meet my sister, Afra, her husband, Ben, and her pet intern, Theo.”
Jax grinned broadly at them and shook their hands. “I’m Jax.”
“No introduction necessary,” Afra said. “I’ve seen the video.”
“The video?” Mischief danced in his eyes. “I’m almost afraid to ask which one.”
Thankfully Naomi had moved on and was not near enough to hear.
Ben chuckled. “The one with the piano. If there are any videos of you involving less clothes, I don’t want to know about them.” He cast a look at Ari.
“None that are on YouTube,” Jax shot back, all good humor.
Ari managed not to blush, but only because Jax implying in front of Ari’s sister that he’d made a sex tape made all his blood want to hide in his toes.
Before he could muster any kind of response, someone shouted at Jax from across the yard. “Hey, Hall! Are you going to waste what might be your last day this year to get your ass handed to you or what?”
With no small amount of trepidation, Ari realized the man was wearing swim goggles and an enormous water tank strapped to his back. There was a pump-action spray gun resting on his shoulder.
Jax gave them a mock-somber look. “Sorry, it looks like my title is in jeopardy from a thirty-five-year-old pediatrician with a Super Soaker.” He winked at Ari. “If I fall on the field of battle, I trust you to avenge me.” Then he jogged off.
“Wow, hate to see him go,” Afra quipped.
Ari’s face burned. “Afra.” Her husband was right there!
“No, I agree,” Ben said. “The back view is almost better.” They fist-bumped.
Ari glanced at Theo, hoping to appeal to him, but he just shrugged. “Do you actually want to argue?”
That was a fair point, unfortunately. Ari sighed and made himself turn away from the scene lest he be forced to watch as Jax’s shirt, which already revealed his delectably muscled round shoulders, got wet and clung to his chest.
Instead, he clapped Theo on the back and pushed him toward the grill at the rear of the house. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can feed you.”
It had been too long since he’d attended a party, and for the first twenty minutes or so, he felt off-kilter, even though he’d spent the past few months touring. But finally, as Theo polished off his second hamburger, nodding vigorously along with whatever Kayla was telling him, Ari let out a breath and realized the tension had fled from his shoulders.
Of course, that didn’t last long once Afra caught up to him again.
“So,” she said, nudging him in the hip just hard enough to slosh the liquid in his red Solo cup. “Noella said she’s heard a demo?”
“Two demos,” Ari said, resigned to talking business.
“And Naomi said you’ve been by the Rock just about every day they do live music for the past week,” she continued blithely.
Oh no, it was worse than business.
From somewhere toward the back of the yard, there was a triumphant shout and then an actual yell, which interrupted what Ari felt sure would be the most uncomfortable moment yet. He glanced over just in time to see Jax turn the hose on the man who had taunted him earlier, to laughter and applause from their audience and a good deal of cursing from the doctor.
Ari told himself he wasn’t disappointed it wasn’t Jax who’d ended up soaked to the skin.
Afra cleared her throat. “Noella seems to think you might have a muse.”
Noella was a damn gossip. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“I didn’t say it was,” Afra soothed. “I only want to catch up. You’ve been buried in work this week.”
Ari took another drink of his questionable beverage, wishing it were something else, and tried to relax. “He’s just… interesting.” How could he explain it? Did he even have to? Anyone who looked at Jax would surely see the way the world bent into something a little more joyful around his edges. Or maybe that joy was coming from Jax. Either way, it was addictive. Of course Ari wanted more of it.
Jax and his sparring partner were returning to the main yard—Jax laughing, his friend not so much.
“Oh my God,” Naomi said as she came out of the house behind Ari and Afra and looked past them. “Calvin, what happened to you?”
The soaking-wet man—Ari assumed he must be Calvin—glowered halfheartedly and jerked his thumb at Jax. “This overgrown child in a frat-boy costume happened to me.”
“Weren’t you the one who issued the challenge?” Ari asked before he could help himself.
Calvin turned the soggy glower on him.
Naomi looked at Jax, who gestured to Ari and Afra. “What? Look, there were witnesses!”
Afra raised her hands. “I wish to be excluded from this narrative.”
Naomi snorted, then opened the back door again. “Come on, Cal. I’ll find you a towel… and maybe a T-shirt.”
They went inside, and Jax wandered over to the drink table. Calvin had shot him with the water gun at least once; the tank top was plastered to his back over his left kidney, and his shorts were wet too, highlighting the perfect round curve of his ass.
“Interesting is one word for him,” Afra allowed.
Ari didn’t facepalm, because he had never facepalmed in his life, but he might have tried to hide his face in his tumbler of lemonade.
Afra gave him a look but kindly said nothing else.
Theo, on the other hand, munched a chip and asked, “Does he know about your music boner?”
Really, getting covered in Ari’s spit-take lemonade was the least Theo deserved for that.
Naomi returned with a less hangdog-looking Calvin and introduced him to the group. Then she hurried off to take care of other guests.
Calvin graciously shook Afra’s and Theo’s hands and was practically a gentleman, even when Afra dragged Theo away to find a bathroom to clean off the lemonade.
“So,” Calvin said with a long, slow look at Ari. “You’re Ari.”
“Indeed.” Ari wasn’t sure what to make of this man. He had already deduced him to be Jax’s roommate, “Hobbes,” who had a stamp of approval from Murph for being a “good’un.”
“You look different in person.”
Ari arched an eyebrow. “You’ve seen my picture?”
Calvin snorted. “Your video. Mind you, the quality on that thing isn’t great, but….” He shrugged.
“I assume you’re referring to the video with Jax.”
“Yeah, that one.” Calvin gave him another assessing look. “You ever own a puppy?”
What? “No.”
“Puppies are cute and lovable, but they’re also a lot of work, vulnerable, and get easily attached. And the thing is, you can’t just get rid of the puppy when it chews on your favorite shoes, right? You have to keep it because it needs you to survive.”
Was this really happening? Surely Calvin didn’t think of Jax as a puppy?
“So you better be sure that you want that puppy before you take it home, all right?” His gaze was intense.
“If I fully understand your meaning, you are comparing one of your closest friends to a dog.”
“Well, he did follow me home one day,” Calvin grumbled. That was rather unshocking news, though it did raise the question—had they slept together? Were they sleeping together?
No, they couldn’t be. No one could sleep with Jax and be this blasé about Ari’s obvious interest in doing the same.
Ari opened his mouth to pry more of the story out of Calvin, but a cup with a familiar-looking drink appeared in front of his face.
“I had to make some adjustments based on supplies, b
ut here.” Jax sat down in the vacant chair at Ari’s right and looked back and forth between Calvin and Ari. “So, you two have met. That’s great. I’m sure you have plenty to talk about and all of it is about me. Do I want to know what was said, or should I just move things along and live in ignorance?”
Never one to waste an opportunity so neatly presented to him, Ari smiled and said, “Calvin was just about to tell me the story of how you met.”
“Oh, was he?” Jax shot a suspicious look at Calvin, who didn’t dispute Ari’s claim. “Well, it’s not that interesting a story—”
“That’s a lie,” Calvin cut in.
“No, it isn’t. We met when I was doing some research, and then Hobbes got sick—” A shadow passed over Jax’s eyes, and Ari had a fair guess what sickness that might have been. “—and someone had to look after Captain Tribby—that’s the cat—so I said I would do it. But Tribby’s diabetic, so it’s kind of hard to just pop by.”
“What Jax is trying to get at is that he moved in while I was weak in the hospital, and I haven’t been able to get him to move out.”
Jax laughed. “Squatter’s rights, old man.”
“The cat likes him better anyway,” Calvin said heavily. “So we’re stuck with each other now.”
“He loves me, really,” Jax said.
Ari believed him. It would be difficult not to.
“He grows on you. Like a fungus.” Calvin gestured at Ari’s hand. “What’d he make you?”
Ari opened his mouth to answer, then realized how embarrassing that would be and raised the cup to his lips instead.
Naturally Jax had no such compunctions. “It’s a Sparkling Conversation, Hobbes. You should try it sometime.” He gave the man a gentle shove. “Somewhere else, maybe.”
Calvin made a face like he’d just sucked a lemon. “What, you think I wouldn’t recognize that as my cue? I’m going. Nice meeting you, Ari.”
“Likewise.” Ari raised his hand in a halfhearted wave. His head felt like it was spinning—not, he suspected, an unusual sensation for people who spent a lot of time around Jax. The man was like a tornado full of razor blades. It took a lot to keep up with a mind that sharp, but Ari enjoyed the challenge.
Only now that they were alone, some of Jax’s edges bled off. “So. You and Naomi know each other, obviously?”
“I used to be her violin teacher,” he admitted. “But actually I’ve known Kayla longer. We went to school together.”
He should say hello, except—no, she was setting up her pails to do a guerrilla drum demonstration, and he enjoyed those too much to delay her. He’d talk to her afterward, and maybe she’d be willing to let him borrow a rhythm if something struck him just right.
“Yeah? Kayla is awesome. We would be deeply in love if it weren’t for the whole aromantic thing.” Jax sighed gustily, clutching at his chest, full of drama yet completely oblivious to the fact that, to Ari, the world had just suddenly flickered into black and white. “Alas.” When Ari didn’t respond right away, Jax looked over and touched his shoulder. Color flooded back in. “You all right? You look a little wan.”
Somehow Ari managed to clear his throat. “Fine,” he said, taking a healthy sip of his drink to give himself some breathing room. It worked—he found something to change the subject, at least. “You’re not drinking?”
“Oh.” Jax shrugged as they made their way back to the drink table, where he fished a bottle of water out of a cooler. “Sort of? Downsides of moving in with a doctor. Twenty-six years old, and last year I got an unlooked-for ADHD diagnosis. Surprise!” He cracked the top off and chugged half of it, condensation running down his arm. Ari watched his throat work and debated just climbing into the cooler. “Anyway, being medicated is mostly great, but alcohol interferes with the time-release mechanism, and let me tell you, when your resting heart rate jumps from sixty to eighty-seven it is not a fun adventure. So I’ve got a strict two-drink limit, and I pretty much can’t start until after dinnertime. No day drinking.”
That was the most Ari had learned about Jax in a single conversation, and it left him reeling. “I see.”
He’d been operating under the assumption that Jax was trying to seduce him as a game. Ari had been holding out because sex without intimacy wasn’t his style and falling into that with Jax would be ruinous for his heart. He’d thought maybe, if he were patient, Jax might take him seriously. Maybe they could have something real.
But if Jax didn’t feel romantic attachment, then—what?
The smart thing to do would be to walk away. He was playing a game he couldn’t win. He could cut his losses and struggle through the writer’s block on his own. Eventually the music would return. He knew enough about himself to know that.
Or he could follow through. He could let Jax flirt with him until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he gave in. Ari would fall in love with him—he was already halfway there.
It would end with possibly the most beautiful album Ari could ever dream of composing and Jax breaking his heart.
“Well,” he said, reaching out for the first time and consciously touching Jax at the waist, so that he turned toward another table, “if you can’t drink, how do you feel about refined sugar?”
Chapter Six
JAX HEFTED another keg out of the supply room and brought it to the bar, enjoying the strain in his muscles—one of the better distractions he’d had all day. He hooked the keg up to the tap and tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his brain.
He didn’t want to think about MIT right then.
He turned on the tap to prime it and watched the foam collect.
The email had been easy enough to ignore, to put off for another time. But there was something about a letter…. Jax had to read it.
Frustrated, Jax cut the tap and wiped down the clean bar—no customers around yet to make it dirty. He cast a glance at the clock and wished the next seven minutes would pass so he might at least have work to distract him, to keep him from remembering.
… should you elect to continue your studies, tuition is due no later than January 3. If, instead, you choose to defer completion of your doctoral thesis, the fee for nonresident studies….
As customers trickled in, Jax gladly accepted their requests for alcohol and song, and soon he mostly drowned out the dread and nagging.
When Ari arrived around eight thirty, Jax was stuck at the bar, filling drinks. He barely had time to talk when he dropped off Ari’s usual Sparkling Conversation.
Pulled away to make up a collection of cocktails for a group of ladies near the stage, Jax had to give up Ari-watching for several minutes. When he turned back, Ari was gone and his glass was empty.
Heart falling, Jax grabbed the glass and the twenty tucked underneath it and quickly put both away. Then he turned to the next customer. He had thought they were past the stage of leaving without saying goodbye.
He was pouring some vodka with a service-person smile pasted on his face when he heard the opening violin strings of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida.” Rosa must be doing the piano, but he wondered who Naomi had found to sing.
Except that was Naomi singing. Jax glanced at the stage and—
Ari stood on it with Naomi, her violin tucked under his chin.
Jax couldn’t tear his gaze away as they tore through the song as a duo. Naomi had to glance occasionally at some lyrics, but Ari managed not only the song’s established violin work but also some modified bars to make up for the lack of other instruments. Ari knew the song by heart.
Suddenly Jax was very grateful for the bar between him and everyone else, as it now hid his semi.
Naomi shimmied, and a fond, indulgent smile quirked Ari’s lips, though he didn’t miss a step.
The crowd loved it.
“Thank you! We’re a bit short-staffed tonight, so a dear friend has graciously agreed to give us a hand. The request jar is still open, but we don’t want to overwhelm our newbie.”
Ari arched an eyebrow. “I
taught you everything you know.”
The crowd hooted.
“That sounds like a challenge, old man, one that we need a second violin for. I’m going to take a short break, and Ari is going to entertain you.” Naomi ducked off the stage.
Ari stepped up to the microphone and, without a word to the audience, launched into a violin remix of “Thriller,” Rosa and Kayla following his lead. It sent chills down Jax’s spine, and he began to wonder how he would get out from behind the bar without breaking public indecency laws.
Naomi returned from the break room with her backup violin, and they proceeded to kill their way through a set, Naomi alternating between violin and vocals.
“This next one is an old favorite of mine,” Naomi said, beaming. “You see, Ari was my first violin teacher.” The crowd cooed. “And we learned to play this song together.”
“You insisted,” Ari said dryly.
Jax wondered if their gangling young act was as adorable or enthralling as this.
“You were the one who wrote the arrangement.” Naomi smirked and lifted her violin to her chin. Then, with barely a glance at each other and a few subtle foot taps for rhythm, the duo launched into Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me.”
Jax couldn’t decide what was cuter—a thirty-two-year-old Ari playing this song with a chagrined smile or the image of a twentyish Ari listening to Swift on repeat to arrange it for his preteen student.
After, Naomi excused them both for a break and dragged Ari to the back. Jax silently cursed them for putting the patrons in such a good drinking mood, as he was trapped mixing drinks and unable to follow. He wanted to climb Ari like a tree and kiss him into next week.
Naomi returned first and slipped behind the bar. “Jax, we need you on piano.”
He gave her a look and pointedly moved his gaze to the shaker in his hands.
“Yes, yes. But we have an idea, and we’ll need a piano player/singer for it.”
Intrigued, Jax said, “Explain.”
She did.
“You,” he said and pointed at her, “are so lucky that I decided to learn that one because I figured it was only a matter of time before someone requested it, what with you being on violin and all.”
