Drilled by K.M. Neuhold

Chapter 2

RIDGE

I tighten my hands around my steering wheel and promise myself that when this song ends, I’ll get out of the car and go into Wooley’s. The rest of the Four Bears crew is already inside, including Apollo. I watched each of them walk in, one by one, each hand in hand with their partners.

I sigh inwardly as the song ends and I’m still not moving. But “Montero”just came on, so it would basically be sacrilege to get out of the car before it’s over. Plus, you know, I have to brood for a few more minutes about the fact that in six short days, I’ll be on my way to a remote campground where I’ll spend four weeks with a man who hates my guts. A man who I miss more than any goddamn thing in this world.

My stomach twists itself in knots, and I grit my teeth. Maybe this imposed isolation will be good for us. At least he won’t be able to storm out and get away from me for once. He could punch me again, but at this point, I’d be willing to let him get a few hits in if it’ll mean he’ll finally hear me out about what happened. If I have anything to say about it, we’re either leaving that campground in a month as best friends again or in matching body bags. Not literally. I mean, unless that whole freaky child ghost in search of revenge thing turns out to be real.

The song ends, and luckily Lil Nas X slaps so hard it gives me enough strength to finally turn off the car and get out.

I can face whatever playful ribbing the guys are planning to hand out tonight. What I’m not so sure I can handle is another night out where Apollo acts like I don’t exist. I miss our drunken nights stumbling home together—no, not just the one where I ended up practically dry-humping him and waking up to my own sexuality. I miss trading off buying rounds and making up dumb-as-fuck card games that neither of us could remember the rules to once we were sober the next morning. And fuck, I miss seeing how stupid or goofy I’d have to act to coax reluctant smiles from him. They were hard-fought and endlessly worth it.

My chest aches, my lost friendship like a missing limb, even after all these years.

When I push through the door into Wooley’s, a wall of sound rushes out to meet me. The place is busy tonight. West, Stone’s nephew-in-law and a fellow member of the Four Bears crew, is dating the owner of the bar. In fact, he’s currently leaning over the bar, flirting his cute, twenty-six-year-old ass off. God, what I wouldn’t give to be that age again, to have all those years back. Not that I’m not rocking the hell out of forty, but damn, it feels like time has made me its bitch.

I spot the rest of the guys at their usual table near the dart boards and pool tables. Cole and Stone are here, of course—each seated next to their own husband—along with the other two owners of the company: Ollie and Everett. Ollie’s husband, Daniel, is dressed in an eye-catching peacock-green suit, waving his hands around animatedly and holding the attention of the rest of the group with whatever he’s saying. Everett’s husband, Watson, is dressed the way he usually is in a nice button-up shirt and a brightly colored bowtie—orange today, but somehow, he’s totally pulling it off. He leans over and whispers something in Ev’s ear that makes the man blush. The group is rounded out by Miller and his new boyfriend, Demetri, who still seems a little unsure about fitting in with the rest of the rowdy group.

Apollo is at the far end of the table, quietly sipping a beer straight from the bottle. I make my way over, putting on an easy smile and sliding into the empty chair next to Stone.

“Hey, man,” he greets, clapping me on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“Got you the whiskey you usually order,” Ev says, pushing a glass of neat amber-colored liquid toward me.

It was a simple thing, him ordering my drink before I even got here, but it settles over me in a strange way. I look around at the group, all returning their attention to Daniel, who’s telling a story about an eccentric client he just did a bedroom redesign for, and a sense of belonging fills me.

I take a sip from my glass, the smooth burn of the alcohol sliding pleasantly down my throat. I hum happily, my eyes darting down the table toward Apollo without my permission. For a moment, he looks relaxed, almost…happy?

I laugh internally. Of course he’s happy. He’s built a great life for himself. Just because I miss the absolute fuck out of him doesn’t mean he’s spared a single thought for me over the past fifteen years. I’m sure he’s doing just fine.

West pries himself away from his boyfriend eventually and joins the rest of us, noisily pulling out a chair and plopping down in it.

“All right, I’ve got fifty bucks on the two of them banging it out within the first week,” West says, pointing between Apollo and me. I bite back a groan. I thought they were all fucking around that first day at the barbeque, but no shit, he pulls the cash out of his wallet and tosses it down on the table.

“Psh,” Stone scoffs. “Heat like that…” He nods at the scowl currently twisting Apollo’s expression. “First night, easy.” He glances over at his husband, Dare, with a grin. “Trust me, I know what hateful looks like that lead to.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Apollo says with a deep growl. “It’s a stupid fucking bet anyway. Ridge is straight as an arrow.”

Stone scrunches his eyebrows together and confused looks ripple around the table. Fuck. Yeah, maybe I should’ve tried harder to impart this little piece of info to him before now. But I’d really rather this not be the time or place that Apollo finds out that I’m super not straight.

“What are you—oomph.” I kick Stone under the table and give a quick shake of my head. “Straight, right,” he corrects quickly. “Who wants more drinks?”

That seems to distract everyone from the bet, although something tells me that’s not truly the end of it. Let them bet on it, I couldn’t give a fuck. But Apollo’s right, it’s not going to happen. Unfortunately.

“You know, I’ve always wondered why Apollo is always so scowly and miserable, then you showed up and solved that mystery,” Miller says conversationally.

I huff a laugh through my nose. I wish I could take all that credit. It would mean that Apollo spent the past fifteen years missing me as much as I've missed him.

“Nah, he came out of the womb with that grumpy-ass expression on his face.”

As if to prove my point, Apollo makes a cranky noise and deepens his frown.

“Oh hey, Porter’s here,” Watson says, spotting someone over by the bar.

“Who?” I ask, craning my neck to see if it’s someone I should know. I spot the man he’s talking about. An adorably dorky-looking twink, who’s chatting with Sawyer, West’s boyfriend, and sipping a drink.

“He used to have a little thing for Watson,” Miller explains.

“He didn’t,” Watson argues, but Miller just rolls his eyes and continues explaining.

“Then he went on a disastrous date with West. Now the poor kid drools over Apollo every time he sees him.”

Apollo scoffs.

“He’s not wrong,” West says. “I tried to tell him that you’re way too much of a grouch for him, but that only seemed to pique his interest.”

The bitter taste of jealousy fills my mouth. “You should give him a chance,” I suggest because I’m clearly a masochist.

“Yeah, if there’s nothing going on between you and Ridge, why not take Porter on a date?”

APOLLO

I’m in hell. Every single person at the table is looking at me expectantly, as if I couldn’t possibly have any reason not to want to date the scrawny veterinarian other than a deep, secret love for my straight former best friend.

Yes, there was a time when I did have a deep, secret love for Ridge…or rather a decade of time, but I buried that shit when he proposed to my sister. I had to.

Truth is, Porter is cute and all with his petite frame and shy smile, but that’s not the kind of thing that turns my crank. I’ve always been into bigger guys like myself. Guys I can get a little rough with, guys who can give as good as they get.

My damn traitorous eyes dart instantly toward Ridge because damn if he hasn’t always been my type. Hell, he’s the template for my type, after all. He was my first crush, the reason I realized I was gay to begin with when I was twelve. Well, him and David Hasselhoff. Don’t judge. The Hoff was hot on Baywatch when I was barely a teenager.

“All right, I’ve got two weeks in the how long will it take these two to fuck pool,” Ren says, tossing some money of his own onto the pile.

Fucking hell, we’re back to this.

I tear my gaze away from Ridge and shove myself roughly away from the table. Everyone’s eyes are on me again as I stand up. If it will get them all off my back, I’ll take Porter on a date. What’s one dinner in exchange for not having to hear all the wild speculation and betting about whether or not I’m going to drill a dude I’m definitely not going to drill.

Porter startles as I approach, spilling some of his cherry-red drink down the front of his white polo. He curses loudly enough to be heard over the din of the bar, and I snatch a handful of napkins off the bar to offer him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, moping hopelessly at the stain.

I grunt in response, nudging the empty barstool between us closer to the bar so I can lean over a bit. “Porter, right?”

He makes a surprised sound and nods quickly. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yes. Porter, that’s me.” He offers me his hand and then winces, his cheeks going pink.

I fight against a twitch of my lips, an almost smile at how awkward he is. It’s cute. Still not my type, but cute.

“Let me take you out to dinner this weekend.”

Porter sits up a little straighter, nodding his head quickly before stopping himself and frowning. “Wait, is this a joke?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes darting over to the guys who no longer seem all that interested in our exchange.

Guilt twinges in my stomach. Should I back out now before I lead him on? Or would that be meaner than just going through with it at this point?

“It’s not a marriage proposal or anything. I just figured that you could use a meal.” I look pointedly at his slender frame, and he relaxes a little, snorting into his drink as he takes a sip.

“Um, yeah, okay,” he agrees.

“Cool. Does Saturday work for you?” I check, and he nods again. We exchange numbers so we can hammer out the rest of the details later, and then I order him another drink to make up for the one I made him spill.

When I return to the table, everyone is fully engaged in other conversations, except for Ridge, who’s watching me even though he’s pretending not to.

What does he care who I take out? Based on all the love bites he was sporting earlier, his sex life isn’t suffering. Even if it were, I don’t see why mine would be any of his concern.

Of course there was a time when he seemed to be on a mission to make who I dated all kinds of his business. No one ever seemed to be good enough in his estimation. At first, I thought it was low-key homophobia like he just couldn’t stand the idea of me having sex with another guy, but I don’t think that was it. It almost seemed like he was jealous. Even when he was seeing Anna, he would get all pouty whenever I’d take anyone out.

I shake off the memories and scowl in his direction. Fifteen fucking years, and I still miss the friendship he single-handedly destroyed. Why the fuck couldn’t he have just done things right? If he didn’t want to marry Anna, he should’ve gone about it differently. Hell, he shouldn’t have ever proposed, or maybe he should’ve left her alone altogether from the start. Anything other than what he did.

The two of us had a damn good thing going. Sure, I jerked off thinking about him from time to time, but other than that, our friendship was perfect. It was easy. It was one of those comfortable, just right kinds of connections you find once in a lifetime.

Fuck him for ruining it. Seriously. Fuck him.

“You’re going to crack a tooth if you keep grinding them that hard,” Miller warns. I huff and force myself to unclench.

“I think I’m going to head home.” I haven’t even finished half my drink, but I just don’t have it in me to sit here and stare at Ridge any longer.

How the fuck I’m going to make it a full month alone with him really is anyone’s guess.

One thing I know for sure, every single one of them is going to lose this bet because there is no earthly way the two of us are going to fuck.