The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Three

“That’s Miles?”

Nathan’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. He hadn’t been aware it could even go that high.

“Yep, that’s him,” Lorcan replied with a contented sigh. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whooped loudly, which set off the rest of the crowd.

Short of being slack-jawed, Nathan couldn’t do much other than stare.

Miles looked like a rock star. He had the air of someone born for the stage. No, bigger than a stage. A stadium.

Miles wore intricate-looking wristbands—likely collected from concerts or other cool events like that, Nathan noted mournfully—and bright tattoos decorated the golden skin on his left arm. Nathan couldn’t quite see how far the tattoos extended as the rest of his arm was hidden by the gaudiest patterned shirt Nathan had ever seen.

It was bright, multicolored, and over the top. But somehow this guy managed to pull it off.

Because of course he did.

Miles had mussed blond hair with dark, grown-out roots that somehow didn’t look like a lack of effort on the performer’s part. His hair just about reached his jaw, which was so sharp it even gave Lorcan’s a run for its money. And that was certainly saying something.

Any hope Nathan once felt was gone. Completely eradicated, wiped off the face of the earth, never to be heard from again.

This wasn’t fair. How was Nathan supposed to compete with that?

But not all hope was lost, a little voice at the back of Nathan’s mind told him. Miles could be strictly straight and just interested in pursuing a bromance with Lorcan.

That, Nathan could deal with. Mostly.

He nursed his drink, listening to Miles’s performance begrudgingly at first but finding himself becoming less so as the gig went on. Until Nathan had to admit to himself that Miles was pretty good.

Really good, actually.

Clearly Juilliard had paid off.

Lorcan didn’t stop smiling throughout the entire set, clapping loudly and nudging Nathan with a pointy elbow any time Miles hit a particularly difficult note. Or at least what sounded like a difficult note to Nathan, whose taste in music could be described as “funky,” and even that was open to interpretation.

But this was good. Miles was good, as much as Nathan would have taken great pleasure in admitting otherwise.

Miles didn’t talk between any of the songs, none of which Nathan recognized; they might have been covers for all he knew, if not originals. He just played, looking between his fingers strumming the guitar and a spot on the floor in front of him.

Nathan figured he had lyrics stuck down there or something.

Miles finished up before long. He gave what seemed like a shy wave to the crowd, which had grown louder in their cheering by the last song, and then disappeared backstage. That, of course, prompted Lorcan to stand to attention, ready to pursue.

“Should we follow him?” Lorcan asked, looking to Nathan for the first time in what had been around an hour.

“What? No.” Nathan shook his head. “You want to come off as alluring, not desperate.”

“Alluring, not desperate,” Lorcan repeated, adopting it as his new mantra. Nathan could imagine him practicing it in front of his mirror at home. “Got it.”

Nathan could have rolled his eyes, but he decided not to. Lorcan was just nervous; there was no point in poking fun at him when he was already jittery. Even if his nerves were completely misguided.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t spoken to Miles before; this wasn’t new.

Except Nathan was about to wade into unchartered waters. This could get dangerous.

So he ordered another beer. For reasons.

Taking the bottle from the bartender with a nod of thanks, Nathan lifted it to take a sip, only for Lorcan to excitedly whack him on the arm, causing the bottle to jolt and a splash of beer to spill down the front of his T-shirt.

“He’s coming over,” Lorcan hissed urgently, completely oblivious to the mess he’d made.

“Awesome,” Nathan replied dryly, placing his beer, or at least whatever had survived, down on the bar. He tried to wipe off the wet patch to the best of his ability. Not that it helped in the slightest; it still looked like he had a huge sweat stain down the front of his chest.

Amazing.

“Hey, Miles!” Lorcan called out, sticking up a hand and gesturing for Miles to come over, ever so smoothly. Miles spotted him with ease—which wasn’t a difficult feat, considering how Lorcan stuck out head and shoulders above everyone else—and made his way over.

“Hi,” Miles greeted once he’d made his way through the crowd, his voice as smooth as it had been when he’d sung. “Glad to see you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lorcan tossed back as if he’d known Miles for years and…

Nathan frowned to himself. How long had they known each other for? He hadn’t thought to ask.

“You were amazing, by the way,” Lorcan continued. “Really something.”

Miles glanced away from Lorcan’s admiring gaze. Of course he even had the audacity to look shy about it, Nathan groused. When Miles looked back up, it wasn’t to Lorcan—but to Nathan, who was trying his best to twist his shirt around to hide the extent of the damage.

“Is this your friend?” Miles asked politely.

“Oh yeah,” Lorcan replied, blinking for a moment as though he’d forgotten Nathan had been standing there the entire time.

Nice. Thanks, Lorcan.

Lorcan clapped Nathan on the back, hard enough that he unintentionally took another step forward into the circle of conversation. Lorcan’s broad hand rested on Nathan’s shoulder as he introduced him.

“This is Nathan. He just got back from Scotland yesterday.”

“You study anthropology, right?” Miles inquired as he reached out his hand for Nathan to take. To be polite, Nathan took it and firmly shook, showing Miles he meant business.

Nathan wasn’t entirely sure if Miles interpreted it that way.

“Yeah,” Nathan replied, brows furrowed slightly as he switched on the charm. He’d promised to help Lorcan out; it would be highly suspicious if he didn’t at least act like he was trying. “Was this guy gossiping about me?”

Miles let out a little chuckle, shaking his head. “Just something that came up.”

“I’m sure you guys could find something else to talk about than little ole me,” Nathan teased, reaching back for his beer on the bar and frowning when he couldn’t immediately feel it. He looked back over his shoulder, only to find the bottle was no longer sitting there.

“Ah, shit.”

“They’re pretty quick to clean off the bar here,” Miles explained apologetically, as though he’d been the very bartender who’d snatched Nathan’s drink away. “I’ll buy you two another round.”

“Oh, no. We should be buying you a drink to congratulate you on your performance,” Lorcan fired right back, evoking another one of those bashful smiles from Miles.

“I’m driving. I can’t—” Miles started.

“A soda, then.” Lorcan lifted his own drink in solidarity as a fellow responsible driver.

“As long as I get a drink, I don’t care who buys it,” Nathan piped up, knowing full well Lorcan wouldn’t relent. And if Miles was in any way stubborn, they were going to be standing there all night arguing over who was buying who a drink.

Secretly, Nathan hoped Miles won anyway. If he could get a freebie out of him, he might like him that bit more. But Lorcan won in the end; he always did. Nathan wasn’t sure why he’d hoped otherwise.

With that out of the way, conversation flowed steadily without the need for Nathan to make much of a conscious effort to avoid any silences.

Not that Miles was much help: he clearly wasn’t the chatty type. Which made zero sense to Nathan because didn’t Lorcan know a lot about him? Surely, they must have talked at some stage?

Oh.

Then realization hit.

Miles wasn’t talking much because Nathan was around. Nathan was speculating, but it made complete sense. Nathan was a new person invading his hangout time with Lorcan. Miles was bound to be a little irritated by that.

Maybe, just maybe, Miles was under the impression Nathan and Lorcan were an item, and he had entirely misread his involvement with Lorcan.

If anything, that encouraged Nathan to dominate the conversation more.

As the chat took a turn toward the topic of camping, Nathan resigned himself to the metaphorical back seat. He was completely out of his depth here, and if he tried to pretend otherwise, he knew a clueless Lorcan would just sell him out. So he leaned up against the bar and watched, observing the way Miles’s face lit up the moment the topic was introduced.

Strategically speaking, it was a good move for Lorcan to make. That didn’t mean Nathan had to be happy about it.

Normally at this stage, Nathan would politely excuse himself and let the two of them at it. But he wasn’t operating under the usual circumstances, so Nathan stayed put. Both because he was reluctant to give the two of them the opportunity to go any further than friendly acquaintances and because he was still trying to get a read off Miles.

The guy was too quiet to size up easily.

Polite? Sure.

Into Lorcan? Unclear.

Super unclear.

“You haven’t been out there?” Lorcan’s voice cut through Nathan’s thoughts, drawing him back into the conversation. “Aw, man, we’ll have to bring you camping there.”

We?

“You guys don’t have to do that, especially if you’ve already seen it before…”

“Anyway,” Lorcan impeded before Miles could protest anymore, “Nate hasn’t been there either. It’ll be an adventure for all of us, just me acting as an all-knowing guide.” Lorcan flashed Miles his million-watt smile, and really, who could resist that?

“Where is this again?” Nathan politely asked, trying not to sound like he had spaced out from the moment he first heard the word “hike.”

“Angeles National Forest,” Lorcan quipped back. “Plenty of different trails, amazing views. It’ll be great.”

Unseen by Miles, Lorcan flashed his best friend a pleading look. A look that clearly said, Please just go with it, for me?

For what felt like the hundredth time since he stepped foot off of that plane, Nathan cursed his inability to say no to Lorcan. So Nathan plastered on a smile with a touch of too much teeth.

“Sure, sounds great.”

*

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Nathan and Lorcan were back in the car, the rest of the night having wound down quietly. Miles had excused himself after receiving a text around an hour after hiking plans had been set in stone.

Lorcan had even set up a Google Calendar event for it; it was that official.

Nathan was a little too distracted to begin to unpack the fact that Lorcan used Google Calendars to organize a social event.

“I was thinking I’m going to mess up if you’re not there to help me out!” Lorcan replied defensively, even if Nathan found his justification weak at best.

Lorcan knew how he felt about camping.

They’d once camped out in Lorcan’s back garden when they were in middle school. To say it hadn’t ended well would be an understatement. Nathan had somehow got it into his head that a bear was going to rampage through the garden and consume everything in its path. Including two scrawny prepubescent boys.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

“Oh, right. Because that’s giving off a great I’m-into-you message. Bring along a guy who’ll trip on any uneven surface or who’ll literally die on the spot if a bug lands anywhere near him.”

Nathan was being dramatic, but not a word of it was a lie.

“When have I ever let a bug get you?” Lorcan asked seriously, his head tilted to the side.

“That time that…” Nathan trailed off, coming up blank.

Come to think of it, there’d never been a time that Lorcan had failed to rescue Nathan from a bug. Huh.

“Exactly,” Lorcan drawled knowingly. “So I promise it’s going to go okay.” He placed a broad hand on Nathan’s knee, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes Nathan was sure were bearing into his very soul. “I need my best guy there.”

Nathan’s heart gave a feeble flutter. Best guy.

“Fine,” Nathan muttered, making it clear in his tone he still wasn’t happy about it.

“You’re the best; I love you,” Lorcan gushed, elated. “I’m going to get you so many weird hats.”

Nathan had to smile at that, already visualizing the spot he’d make on his decorative hat wall for the newest addition. Lorcan did know the way to his heart.

He really loved weird hats.