CHAPTER FIVE
Ashton
Ashton Carmichael, licking his wounds, suffers consequences for his actions!
I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me, why I’d ordered food and drinks and basically inserted myself into Beau and Lincoln’s night, other than the fact that I didn’t want to go home to an empty house. I’d been there for weeks, drowning in gossip articles and my failed career. The idea of wallowing in my thoughts, my past, while the pictures lining the walls reminded me that I was utterly alone, was depressing as hell.
Shit. I didn’t want to be alone. That was a revelation. Before all this had gone down, I tried to think of the last time I’d been truly alone, other than for a day or so, and nothing came to me. I was at the gym or training, at practice, at business meetings or endorsements, with friends, fake friends, and women…lots and lots of women. Christ, the thought of being alone, of talking to myself and dwelling on how far I’d fallen, made me sick to my stomach.
And for some reason, being with Wyatt had felt all wrong. There wasn’t anything he’d done, outside of a few misplaced jokes. But Wyatt was so tied to Football Ash, and I wasn’t that Ash anymore…at least I didn’t think I was. In all honesty, I wasn’t really sure who I was.
So I’d ordered a table of food and a round of drinks, which turned into two rounds of drinks, then three for me. Every so often, my eyes found the large TV screens by the bar—hoping, praying, that nothing about me popped up on the screen. Oh, and that no one recognized me. I’d come there hoping someone would, and now I was thankful they didn’t.
Beau was pretty quiet. I felt his eyes on me more than once, so I’d look at him, make a joke or tease him. He’d get annoyed and roll his eyes, and Lincoln would laugh. The laughter was familiar in a time when nothing else was, so I clung to that, did everything I could to keep making Lincoln chuckle.
At one point there was a lull in the conversation, and damn it, nothing witty or funny was coming to me, so I asked a question that had waited impatiently on the tip of my tongue. “So…are you guys…”
“Together?” Beau asked.
“God no,” Lincoln replied.
“Gee, thanks,” Beau scoffed. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you have any interest in me either,” Lincoln answered, then looked at me. “I love Beau. He’s my best friend/babysitter/there better never be anyone in his life more important than me, but it’s not sexual. He’s the most stable, responsible—”
“So basically, boring,” Beau cut him off.
“Your word, not mine.” Lincoln reached over and squeezed his hand. “Anyway…he’s a great guy. Obviously hot as hell, but no, we’re not like that. Never have been. I basically annoy the shit out of him and enjoy it.”
“Hey! Me too,” I added. “Or at least, I used to. What gives, Cranky Campbell?” I asked.
“Maybe the fact that you call me that?” he answered.
“Nah, that’s not it. I annoyed you before that.”
“And this is why we love our Beau. He wouldn’t know how to have any fun without us. But again, not that kind of fun. We wouldn’t be compatible in bed, if you know what I mean.”
I stared at him, his body blurring a little around the edges—probably a mixture of alcohol and…okay, so probably just because of the alcohol. Also…I had no idea what he meant. “Actually, I don’t.”
“We’re both catchers.”
“Jesus Christ, Linc,” Beau practically growled at him. “Could you not spread my business to the whole restaurant?”
“I didn’t.” Lincoln shook his head. “Just to Ash. Oh, look, he’s blushing.”
My face flamed to the extent I thought I might pass out. I wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t as if I didn’t ever talk sex with my friends, but this was…different. This evening had to break some record. I was pretty sure I hadn’t blushed this much in my life.
Beau liked to be on the bottom… Beau liked to be…fucked?
“Let’s change the subject.” Beau rubbed his hand over his face, and I noticed it looked like he hadn’t shaved that day. A dusting of stubble danced across his jawline and cheek. He’d been smooth-shaven when we’d been in high school. It was a strange thing to remember about him, but I did.
His black hair was a little longer than it had been, a little wavier on top. The sides were shorter, though. It looked really fucking soft.
“Can I have one more?” I asked the waitress, and she said she’d be right back with my drink. Beau’s eyes were on me again. I could feel them even though I wasn’t looking at him, and I was positive he was frowning.
“What’s the frown for?” Lincoln asked.
“I wasn’t frowning,” Beau replied, but he had been. I’d called it before Lincoln had spoken.
“Okay, we’ll go with that.” Lincoln winked at Beau, and I realized how much I liked him. He was a fun guy, friendly, and apparently didn’t give a shit about football. He hadn’t asked me about my career, what went wrong, or chastised me for throwing it all away. Neither he nor Beau had. That thought made my eyes get drawn to Beau again. He had his arms crossed on the table as he and Lincoln went back and forth about his frown. His arms were bigger than I remembered them being…not that I’d paid all that much attention to Beau’s arms back then, and I wasn’t now really either, but they were definitely bigger, more defined.
There were three small moles on his bicep, above a scar. I remembered that, but only because it had always looked like a happy face—two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
We’d been about sixteen, I thought, when I saw it. We’d been lifting weights in PE, and much to Beau’s annoyance, we’d been partnered with each other. I’d stood above him, spotting him, watching his arms for any sign that he needed help, when suddenly it looked like his muscle was smiling at me, or at least the little face on it was. Strange that I would remember something so small, that many years later.
The waitress set my fourth drink in front of me, and I swallowed half of it in long gulps.
“Are you sure you guys aren’t together?” I asked as they continued bickering. It had come as a shock to me that Beau was gay, as in homosexual—he liked men, dated men, and that was something that everyone knew about him. Maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising to me, but it was.
“We’re not. Why?” Beau asked.
“Just the nitpicking back and forth. It reminds me of someone in a relationship.” After picking up my glass, I took another drink just as Lincoln spoke.
“Do you want to have a threesome with us? I’d be willing to make a sacrifice by sleeping with Beau if it was for the greater good, if that’s what you keep hinting at.”
Alcohol somehow got lodged in my throat, or went down the wrong pipe, and I snorted it. My nose burned. Shit, my fucking nose stung. I’d somehow gotten alcohol in my nose. My life flashed before my eyes, my vision blurring as Lincoln laughed and Beau’s hand came down over and over on my back.
When I finally worked through it, Beau’s hand slipped away. Shaking my head, I began, “I’m not… I said I wasn’t… Not that I have anything against…”
“Relax. I’m kidding. Kind of. I would take one for the team, but you’re straight, I get it. And as much fun as this is, I need to get going. I’m meeting Cam and Sawyer.”
“Who are Cam and Sawyer?” I asked.
It was Beau who answered. “Camden and Sawyer are friends of ours.” Then he asked Lincoln, “You guys are going out tonight?”
“Yeah, to Fever. We would have asked you, but we knew you wouldn’t go to a club if it wasn’t Saturgay.”
Had he said Saturgay? Shit. I shook my head. I must have been drunker than I thought. I was hearing things.
“Here, let me give you some money toward the food and drinks.” Lincoln pulled out his wallet, and I waved him off.
“No, like I said. It’s on me. You can get it next time. Do you really have to go?” If Lincoln left, Beau would leave, and I would have to go home, which was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Next time?” Lincoln cocked a brow.
I shrugged. “Yeah…if it happens. If not, that’s cool too.”
Lincoln smiled. “I’ll get it next time.” Then he stood, followed by Beau, which meant I should stand up as well.
My legs wobbled, feeling slightly weak, as did I.
“Are you walking to Sawyer’s?” Beau asked.
“Yeah. My car’s already there. I left it before I came over. Rush has practice or training or some shit like that, so he’s not around. But I don’t think I’m the one you need to worry about driving.”
My mouth opened, an argument right there, but the truth was, he was right. I had zero business behind the wheel of a car.
“Have fun, boys.” Lincoln leaned over the table and kissed Beau’s cheek. I watched his lips touch Beau’s skin as Beau gave him a hug. Then, before I knew it, Lincoln was hugging me and I was standing there with my arms glued to my sides as if I’d never been touched before. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Lincoln left, and I fell back onto the bench. “You’re frowning at me,” I told Beau, who still stood.
“How would you know? You’re not even looking at me.”
“Because I remember what it feels like. You spent your whole life frowning at me. If I hadn’t seen you smile at other people, I wouldn’t have thought you knew how. I was always doing something to disappoint you. At one point, I was determined to get on the good side of Cranky Campbell. Don’t think I ever did, though.” Fucking alcohol giving me loose lips. I did a lot of dumb shit when I drank too much—like have random orgies with women and apparently spilling my guts to Beau.
“Shit,” Beau cursed quietly. “We’ll talk about this in the car. I’m taking you home.”