What I needed was a vibrator. It’d just been so long without any sexual release that a guy who wasn’t even my type could get me off. Heck, Eve could’ve gotten me off in the hallway if she’d been rubbing me right. It was just a normal reaction to long dormant feelings, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and continued my internal pep talk. It was normal. I’d never have to see this Gray Phillips from San Diego again if I didn’t want. He was visiting and would be going home after the weekend.
I liked safe and comfortable, not crazy encounters with strangers. New guys and new experiences were all overrated, amazing orgasm aside. I’m sure I could give that to myself. I’d try it tonight in fact. Right when I got home, I’d head for the shower and use the old variable water spray. Upstairs in the tiny VIP lounge, I wrapped myself in the memory of Will and my old friend grief, because even though its heavy weight made it hard to get out of bed in the morning and tried to smother me with memories at night, I had learned how to handle it. Working long hours at the bar on the weekends helped, and I hoped spending every waking minute studying once school started in the fall would have the same numbing effect. Either that or I was going to have to medicate myself with Vicodin and Xanax cocktails like Will's mom. We'd be a pair. But as awful as the grief was, at least I knew how to deal with it. The awkward feelings of attraction toward someone else were strange and unfamiliar and kind of terrifying and I just didn’t need that in my life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gray
I WAS STILL STEAMED WHEN I made it back to the table. The band hadn’t reappeared, and all the girls had left. Either dancing to some ABBA shit or going to the bathroom, I guessed.
“What’s up, hoss?” Noah asked, clearly seeing I was pissed off.
“Nothing a little liquor won’t cure.” I picked up a new bottle of beer and drained half of it before setting it down.
“Someone call you a boot?” Bo wondered. Boot was what we called new Marines or stupid Marines, which were often the same thing.
"I wish.” I tried to smile and joke back so I didn’t ruin the evening with a shitty attitude. “I’m not even wearing any gear from the Corps.”
"Another reason to get out, buddy. You can stop wearing clothes issued by Uncle Sam."
"That's not even in the top ten reasons why not to re-enlist."
"Glad to know you're making a list." Bo clinked his bottle against mine.
"The list to get out is always longer than the one to stay in."
"Sounds like you already made up your mind."
I sucked down my bottle. "Who knows? Maybe."
"Do you even need this vacation?”
"Even if I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t say. Who's going to turn down forty-five days of consecutive leave?"
Bo laughed as I’d intended. With his attention diverted, I gave myself a mental shake. So I kissed a married woman. It’s not like I knew that going in. Otherwise, it would’ve never happened. I wasn’t going to allow one cheating woman to ruin my time here.
“Get out then. Come here to Central with us. It’ll be like old times.”
"Not everyone has a trust fund to fall back on."
Bo smirked. "Don't try that with me, son of a congressman. You aren't hurting."
"What's this?" AnnMarie and the rest of the girls had returned. By the looks of their freshly applied makeup, bathroom had been the right call. I tried to warn Bo to keep his mouth shut, but he'd already started spilling it all out.
"Gray's dad is the Honorable Phillips from the—what district is it?"
"Fifth," Noah offered. I closed my eyes in resignation. So much for trying to be anonymous. Whatever advantage I'd been trying to achieve through being in entirely different surroundings where no one knew me was lost, but I’d never told Bo and Noah I wanted anonymity so that was on me. I should have went white water rafting in Colorado for a month with a bunch of strangers. I should've packed less gear. I should've avoided that last conversation with my dad. I should’ve turned away from Sam Anderson’s doe eyes. Lots of should haves.
Bo knocked me in the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, it can only go up from here."
"Thanks, man." I gave an obligatory laugh and tried to loosen up.
A few minutes later a rough group of guys showed up. Four of them, varying heights and hair colors, were sporting the same tattooed tough-guy look. They wore sneakers, T-shirts, and chains running from the sagging waistband of their ripped jeans to the wallets stuck in the front pockets. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of bare skin. One of them greeted Adam by knocking his forearm against Adam's forearm twice. Lots of civilians gave the military crap for their uniforms but everyone had a uniform. You only had to look around the table to see it. College kids wore the uniform of lazy carelessness. These newcomers’ clothing, hair, and attitudes all indicated they were in the same tribe. Uniforms were everywhere; discipline, however, was not.