by J. P. Oliver
At that exact moment, as if on cue, Mason walked in through the front doors of the pub.
And I was speechless.
The sounds of the pub drowned out. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He’d cleaned up since last I saw him, looked like an entirely different person. He’d ditched his glasses, leaving nothing to hide his stunning eyes. Mason was dressed casually, appeared far more relaxed and approachable. It was upsetting to me just how great he looked. I hated the way I traced his form with my gaze, noting to myself how great he looked in his relaxed-fit jeans. He was tall, slender, perfectly sculpted in a way that captured my attention and refused to let go. My heart twisted in my chest, my ears burned, I forgot how to use my lungs properly. I let out the smallest, most accidental gasp when I saw him approach, alerting everybody else at the table of his arrival.
“Oh, shit,” hummed Philip. “Is that him?”
“Yeah,” said Drew. He waved his hand at Mason to come on over.
“Nobody has a problem if I say I want a piece of that, right?”
Something about Philip’s ravenous comment didn’t sit right with me. Mason wasn’t mine. He wasn’t the one I was after. But I did have a problem with that. Who did Mason think he was, walking in here with legs for fucking days and a face that had me questioning my priorities?
Mason sat down in the empty chair next to me. I couldn’t help but notice that his hair was a little disheveled, like he’d ran here or something. Maybe he lost track of time and hurried out the door before he was able to run a fine comb through his dark locks. A small smile ghosted across my lips as I remembered the fine-tooth wood comb Mason used to carry around in his pocket when we were children. It was nice to know that his sense of style had improved. He used to walk around wearing khaki shorts and collared button-downs. The only thing this debate team captain and mathlete was missing was an actual bow-tie to really drive home the fact that he was a top-tier nerd.
Drew introduced Mason to Tommy and Philip, the latter of whom seemed very keen on getting his attention.
“How do you two know each other?” asked Philip.
“Childhood friends,” explained Mason with a polite smile.
He shrugged off his jacket and hung it along the back of his chair. He kept to himself, like he always did, fingers threaded together and hands resting neatly in his lap. As I took another sip of bear, I couldn’t help but notice the way Mason chewed nervously on the inside of his cheek. He would occasionally eye the other tables with a twinge of concern in his eyes, disturbed by the boisterousness of the pub in general and the crowdedness of bodies.
“You okay?” I asked before I had time to think. Why was I asking? What did I care?
“Er, yeah,” he mumbled. Mason tugged nervously at the slack of his jeans. “I don’t usually come to places like this.”
“Too grimy for you?” I teased. “What? You can’t enjoy a drink or two unless you’re drinking champagne?”
Mason rolled his eyes. “No. I just–” He flinched when a pub patron stumbled into his chair, clearly intoxicated. The guy moseyed on off like nothing ever happened.
“Let me grab you a drink,” I offered. “Maybe you can loosen up a little.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s cool, dude. I need to stretch my legs anyways.”
Mason shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shooting Drew a quick look. There was something unsettled in his expression, but no words were exchanged between them. Drew shifted his eyes from Mason to me, before sighing and rising from his seat.
“Just a water, please,” replied Mason.
“I’ll come with you,” added Drew to me.
I inhaled deeply, doing my best to remain calm. I supposed that any moment spent with Drew was good enough for me. We made our way through the crowd, weaving in and out until we finally made it to the bar together. As I leaned against the sticky wood surface of the bar, Drew slapped me across the arm.
“You’re not picking on him, right?” he asked.
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Really? Then why’s he acting so weird?”
I wanted to answer Drew. I really did. But there was no way I was about to tell him that Mason walked in to find me with a lookalike one-night stand. There was no way I was about to tell Drew outright that I was in love with him and Mason was in on my little scheme. That was probably why Mason looked so nervous. That goody two-shoes always did try to do the right thing. This whole situation was probably eating him up inside, challenging his morals.
I knew Mason didn’t owe me anything. There was no need for him to be so loyal. But that’s who he was, and always has been. When we were younger, Mason walked in on me and Drew sneaking the classroom hamster out of its cage. We thought we could set Mr. Peanut Butter free in the woods somewhere, let him live his life to the fullest. When our third grade teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, discovered the hamster was missing, she immediately demanded to know who was responsible. Despite the threats of detention or extra homework, Mason didn’t say anything. In all likelihood, it was for Drew’s sake. But he didn’t exactly point his finger at me, either.
Mason was good like that.
Drew continued to eye me suspiciously. When he ultimately couldn’t find what he was looking for, he sighed. “Okay, fine. I believe you. Just…”
“What?”
“I hope you’re being nice to him.”
“What’s with the third degree, dude?”
“Your track record, for one.”
“Drew, I–”
“Seriously, Liam.”
I placed my right hand over my heart and lifted my left. “I solemnly swear, I’m not deliberately going out of my way to torture the guy. Happy?”
Drew clicked his tongue, smirking as he gave me the side-eye. “I’m being serious.”
“I know you are.”
“I never got why you didn’t like him.”
“We’ve been over this, man,” I huffed. “He’s too prissy. And stuck-up. He’s just–”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. He’s too perfect.” Drew chuckled as he finally managed to wave down the bartender. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a bit of a crush on him.”
“What?” I spat. “Don’t be stupid.”
Mason isn’t the one I want. I want you.
“I’m just saying,” Drew said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s like when little boys pull on a girl’s pigtails. Except with you, it was always name-calling and getting him to do your school assignments.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Ridiculous. No way. Mason was just a pushover. I was toughening him up for the real world.”
Drew raised his eyebrows at me, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he directed his attention to the bartender. “Two more beers and a water, please.”
“I promise to be good,” I said reluctantly.
“I should hope so. You two are my best friends. I’ve always wanted you two to get along.”
The bartender returned a few seconds later with our drinks, which Drew immediately picked up the bottles and the glass of ice water, expertly balancing them in his hands. He turned and left, returning immediately to our little group’s table. I watched as Drew went straight to Christian, smiling happily just to be near the man he loved. I worried my bottom lip with my teeth as I observed, almost in a trance-like state. The pub was alive with noise and movement, but I was fixated on Drew and Drew alone.
Christian slung his arm over Drew’s shoulder, leaned in, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said, it had Drew laughing, leaning against him with a familiarity and comfortableness that I wish I could claim credit for. My cheeks felt warm just looking at Drew, my mind hazy with the echo of his laugh in my ears. I had to tear my eyes away, had to turn to try and quell the terrible pang in my chest. As much as I hated to admit it, Mason was right. Christian seemed like a great guy. He was a great guy who made Drew happy.
Christian was handsome, there
was no denying it. And on top of it all, he was a successful lawyer. I not only envied him, but the life he’d be able to give Drew. I was nothing in comparison. There was no way I was anywhere near good enough, anywhere near being able to compete. I swallowed hard at the dryness in my throat as I continued to stare at the happy couple. Nothing about this was sitting right with me, like a terrible nagging feeling in the back of my mind that refused to let go. It ate away at me, little by little, slowly eroding me to bits and pieces from my very core.
And then my attention shifted to Mason. Tommy and Philip seemed to have him locked in a conversation, enthralled. It wasn’t until Mason looked at me, tilting his head to the side in curiosity, that I realized I needed to return to my friends. A moment longer, and Drew would know something was up for sure. I knew this plan to make Drew jealous, to try and elicit a reaction out of him was stupid. But I didn’t know what else to do. Every time I looked over at him in Christian’s arms, the more the point seemed to drive itself home. This was never going to work. We were never going to work. I was too late, and it wouldn’t be fair to Drew.
Mason was right. Somebody was going to get hurt.
And it just so happened to be me.
9
Mason
It was hard not to notice the tension in Liam’s shoulders. I chalked it up to being subjected to Drew and Christian’s untamed public displays of affection. Even I thought it was a little vomit-inducing, so I could barely imagine what Liam must have been going through. The pair was all over each other, kissing and snuggling and feeling each other up. But in a weird way, it was kind of sweet. To be young and in love –it must have been nice. Liam stuck close to me for most of the night, casually leaning against me every now and then. I brushed it off as an accident. The pub he’d chosen was so packed with people that I couldn’t hold the contact against him. A part of me felt like a sardine in this place, entirely too stuffy and smelling just as bad.
It was so awfully obvious that Liam wasn’t in a good mood. He made no attempt to flirt with strangers like he suggested he would do. He couldn’t even keep his eyes on Drew, too disgruntled and uncomfortable to do much else. I was about to tell Drew to cool it a little –for my sake, as well as Liam’s– but Philip had been chatting my ear off all evening. “If I guess what you do for a living,” started Philip, “you’ll buy me a shot.”
I smirked. “You’re going home sober, if that’s the case.”
“You don’t think I can guess? I’m really good at reading people.”
I shook my head as I took a sip of my ice water. “Nope.”
“Fine, then how about this?” Tommy chimed in. “Every time we guess wrong, we’ll take a shot.”
“You’re all going to get alcohol poisoning,” snorted Drew.
“Come on, come on,” cheered Philip. “It’ll be fun.” He waved down our server and whispered in her ear. Within a few seconds, she returned with a full bottle of tequila and six shot glasses. Philip took it upon himself to be bartender, sliding full glasses across the wood table like a barkeep in an old western film.
“I’ll go first,” offered Tommy. “I think you’re an accountant.”
“Oof,” I chuckled. “That’s a shot.”
“I bet you’re a teacher,” said Philip. “You look like a teacher.”
“Not even close.”
“An architect?” guessed Christian.
“Can we have a hint?” asked Liam.
I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. “That’d be cheating, don’t you think?” I winked at him. I don’t know why I did, it just felt right. To my utter confusion, Liam bashfully glanced away, cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
“Florist?”
“Nope.”
“Well, this is New York. Are you an actor?” reasoned Tommy.
“Nuh-uh. But you’re getting warmer.”
“Playwright?”
I chortled. “No.”
“I’m going to get so drunk,” realized Philip, eyes wide in mock horror.
I got along with Tommy and Philip pretty well, learning all about the high jinks that they got up to while in college over the course of the night. My favorite stories about Drew and Liam were the ones that involved copious amounts of alcohol and making crank phone calls to the college librarians.
“Mrs. Mohoruk got so mad,” reminisced Drew, leaning his head against his fiancé’s shoulder. The alcohol was really starting to kick in, making him slur his words and mumble more frequently.
Tommy gasped, suddenly remembering something. He slapped Liam hard across the back of the shoulder. “Do you remember the time we streaked across campus?”
I raised my eyebrows, trying to suppress a wicked smile. I looked over to Liam, who was being uncharacteristically bashful. He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched, squeezing his eyes shut tight at the memory.
“Tell me more!” I demanded.
“There’s really no need,” he protested. “It was dumb.”
What was happening? Was Liam Porter actually embarrassed?
Impossible.
“It was the best fucking night of my life,” laughed Tommy. “Campus security chased Liam from west campus all the way to the football field.”
“You were the notorious Sprinty Streaker?” I gawked.
“They gave me a nickname?” laughed Liam, looking obscenely proud.
“Would you look at that? I know a celebrity.”
I never liked bars. This was a pub, so I supposed it was a step up. But the patrons were rowdy and they all smelled like an excess of booze. The scent went straight to my nose and clung to the inside of my skull. Just a whiff of beer had my stomach gurgling, upset and queasy. The music they were playing over the pub speakers was terribly upbeat, the singer’s lyrics drowned out by the table next to us who were hooting and hollering together without a hint of respect for the other customers.
I wanted to go home. This wasn’t my scene –never was, never would be. There was a reason I never went to school dances, never went to prom. It wasn’t because I was that gay kid who couldn’t find a date, but because the noise, and the lights, and the general smell of sweaty bodies and stuffiness made me want to find a quiet corner to hide in. I clenched my jaw when, for what must have been the seventh time that night, another intoxicated pub person bumped into my chair. I did my very best not to seem peeved, but the constant invasion into my personal space was starting to be a bit much.
That was when Liam stretched his arms above his head, bringing one of them down to rest across the back of my chair. He had been glancing over at me periodically, almost like he could sense my discomfort. His forearm grazed against my shoulders. The sensation sent a chill down my spine, a warm bubbliness in my stomach. What the heck was he doing? Was this part of the show? Had he for some reason decided to use me as his acting prop instead of some other guy? It was probably nothing, just my brain going into overdrive trying to keep up with the ruckus of the bar and the overwhelming heat of bodies too damn close to me. It was a casual gesture, nothing to read into. Liam was more than welcome to stretch his arm. It was a free country, after all.
I looked to Drew to study his reactions, as promised, but didn’t find even a hint of jealousy. Instead, there was something akin to playful amusement, which confused me to no end.
“Wait, you went to NYU, too?” inquired Philip. “Why’s this the first time we’re meeting?”
Because I hated Liam’s guts and wanted nothing to do with him. Now? Maybe not so much. I felt indifferent, really. It was kind of hard to hate a guy who you walked in on experiencing a low point.
“Oh, er…” I stammered lamely.
“He was too busy studying,” explained Liam. And then with a fond, handsome smile, he said, “Always was a bookworm.”
I chuckled nervously. “Yeah, well, sue me. I like to read. You should try it sometime.”
Liam snorted, throwing his head back as he smiled at the ceiling of the pub. “I read good,” he q
uipped.
“You mean you read well?”
Liam took his hand and ruffled it through my hair, giving my head a playful push. “Shut up, you show-off.” I found myself leaning into his touch, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary.
It’s a part of the show, I had to remind myself. As nice as this all was, Liam was in love with Drew. There was nothing I could do about it. I was just going to have to ignore the tightness in my chest. I’m sure people did it all the time.
Drew cleared his throat, grabbing our attention. “Have you two found a venue yet?”
“We’re still looking,” said Liam without missing a beat.
“Oh, good. There’s actually this restaurant I wanted you two to check out for me. I know they occasionally cater special events. Maybe you can go tomorrow to see?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We can do that. Around noon?”
“Works for me.”
“I’ll text you both the address.”
Speaking of texts, I had been so distracted that it had been a few hours since I’d checked my phone. I pulled out my cell from my jacket pocket, immediately frowning when I saw the seventeen texts and four voicemail notifications waiting for me. They were all from my younger brother.
[Rick] 911!
[Rick] Bro, pick up pls.
[Rick] It’s dad. I think he’s on a bender again.
[Rick] Dude, srsly pick up.
[Rick] Need ur help, Mason. Answer your damn phone!
“Is something wrong?” Liam whispered in my ear. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, goosebumps spreading across my skin involuntarily.
“Sorry, something’s come up,” I rushed. I stood up and smiled apologetically at Drew. “I’ve got to go. It was nice meet you guys.”
“Likewise,” said Tommy.
“Hopefully we’ll see you around more,” said Philip as he threw me a flirtatious wink. “But before you go, what do you do for a living?”
“Do you give up?” I chuckled. “I’m a production editor with Zest.”
“I never would have guessed,” muttered Tommy.
“You mean you work on TV shows and stuff?” gawked Philip, thoroughly intoxicated and overly amazed.
