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“Clothes, duh.” Ellie let out an irate huff of air, blowing her short red hair out of her face. “You gave me some money to get you some new stuff.”

“I didn’t give it to you. You stole it.”

“Details,” she said flippantly. “You shouldn’t keep cash under your mattress, and you’ve been wearing those old jeans for months. Now go and get dressed. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

I wandered off to my room to get dressed, grumbling under my breath. Ellie meant well, but she was a rich kid. The concept of truly worn-out, old clothes was lost on her. And, worse, in her mind, the slowly accumulating money in my bank account and various other places around the apartment was there to be spent.

Still, I decided to concede her point about clothes as I rummaged through my paltry collection of T-shirts with a toothbrush in my mouth, searching for one without holes or ink stains.

“I thought you just got up?” Ellie said dryly.

Predictably, she’d followed me. Too late, I noticed her gaze flicker between my still made bed and Pete’s closed door. She’d been around enough to know he slept with it open. “Hmm?”

“Something you want tell me?”

I turned away, ducking my head. “Like what?”

“Like why your bed hasn’t….”

The door behind her opened. Pete appeared, looking sleepy, disheveled, and sexy as hell. He smiled at Ellie and kissed her cheek as he passed her on his way to the bathroom. She watched his retreating back before she turned back to me, her hands on her hips.

I pulled the shirt I’d slept in over my head and replaced it with a clean one, buying time. Ellie drummed her nails on the dresser impatiently. I ignored her until she sighed heavily and left me alone to finish dressing. I thought I got away with it, but naturally she was on me the moment we got outside.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Pete?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

She poked my ribs, playfully but
hard
. “Liar. I saw the way he looked at you when he came out of his room, like he was wondering where you went….”

“It wasn’t me he was kissing.”

Ellie snorted, defying her petite, feminine frame. “Fine, have it your way, but don’t think I’m fooled.”

I knew she wasn’t—shit, I wasn’t even fooling myself—but I still spent most of breakfast speculating if Pete really had been wondering where I went. Some nights, he didn’t seem to notice I was in the bed with him, but others, he’d roll over and say my name. The bed felt all wrong to me without him; I couldn’t help but wonder if he ever felt the same.

He was up and getting ready for work when I got back, drifting around the apartment in just a pair of faded blue jeans. Barefoot and bare chested… damn. I ducked my head, retreated to the couch, and looked anywhere but at his strong, defined torso.

“Hey, what’s all this crap in the bags?”

I kept my eyes on the sketch I’d pulled out to distract myself from him and his bare skin. “Ellie thinks I dress like a tramp.”

Pete slid over the arm of the sofa with one of the bags in his hands. He peered inside and let out a laugh that made the whole couch shake. “She’s not going fix that by dressing you up like me.”

He handed me a pair of sweatpants identical to the ratty old pair he slept in. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be really fucking embarrassed. Obviously, I went with an awkward silence that Pete ignored. He poked his head back into the bag and came up with a pair of jeans that looked pretty similar to the ones I already had. “I like these. Maybe I should get her to shop for me too.”

“Don’t tell her that. The girl’s a machine.”

Pete laughed, tossed the bag aside, and leaned back on the couch. “Women are all the same. My ex made me buy this massive bed when we didn’t even live together. When we split up, she wanted to keep it because it was her idea. Can you believe that shit?”

“Your ex-girlfriend?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We get on fine these days, but I kept the fucking bed.”

I kept my mouth shut. I’d often wondered why the bed in Pete’s room was so much bigger than any bed I’d ever seen before. Somehow, I couldn’t picture a woman’s body against his light-gray sheets.

T
HE
bar was dark and noisy, just how I liked it. In Philadelphia, I used to sneak into kicking bars and sit in the corner to watch the world go by. In a big city, a crowded bar was one of the safest places to be. No one ever noticed the scummy kid in the corner. These days, my life was different, but they were still a place I felt relatively at ease.

I stood with my back to the wall and watched Charlie, Ellie’s older brother, attempt to fend off a mousy brunette. From the helpless looks he sent my way, it didn’t look like it was going well. The poor chick had followed him all the way from the jazz café where he’d played his guitar set, and she looked pretty smitten.

Beside me, Charlie’s friend Joe laughed. “You should go help him out,” I said halfheartedly.

Joe laughed again, loud enough for people to look over at him. “No chance. This is way too funny.”

He had a point. The chick wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Charlie was too polite to be rude.

“Her friend’s pretty hot.”

I peered over Joe’s shoulder at the girl who stood next to the brunette. She didn’t look that hot to me, all cleavage and makeup. She was the kind of girl who gave you a nasty surprise in the morning, and I said so.

Joe shrugged. “So don’t stick around.”

I laughed, all too aware how many times I’d done just that. Not recently, though. My last dalliance with a woman had put me off chicks for a while, and my head was full of men. Shit, who was I kidding? My head was full of one man—Pete. I didn’t tell Joe that. I’d only met him a few times, and though he always greeted me like he’d known me forever, I still didn’t know
him
at all.

“Do you want to shoot some pool?”

I grabbed my beer from the bar. “Sure. You think he’ll find us when he escapes?”

Joe smirked. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve seen that chick before; she’s pretty tenacious.”

I didn’t know what the word meant, but we abandoned Charlie, despite his pleading looks, and moved away from the bar to the pool table. I’d won and lost a game before Charlie finally made his escape and stumbled over to join us.

Charlie carelessly slung a glass of what smelled like gin down on the table and reached for my beer. I passed it to him before he could knock it over. Aside from Ellie, he was probably the closest thing I had to a friend, but he was a nightmare when he was tanked. “What did you say to get rid of her?”

“I said I was married,” he said around the bottle. “To a man.”

I glanced warily at Joe, but he just laughed. “Dude, that’s fucking desperate. She’s not that bad. Who did you say you were with, me or him?”

“Ash, I think.”

Joe’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? What’s wrong with me?”

Charlie frowned and fumbled with his phone. “He’s prettier, according to them, anyway. What’s the matter, J? Jealous?”

“Aw, damn.” Joe bent to take a shot before he turned to me and pouted. “You might be a pretty boy, but I bet I’ve got a bigger dick.”

“Mine’s bigger than both of yours.” Charlie dropped his phone on the table with a clatter and reached for his zipper. “Want to see?”

Joe sighed, like he’d had the same conversation a hundred times before. “Chas, shut the fuck up. Ash doesn’t want to see your dick.”

I rolled my eyes and took my shot. It seemed that neither of them remembered I’d seen Charlie’s dick before, twice, and it wasn’t
that
big. Thankfully, Charlie was easily distracted, and the night rolled on without him dropping his pants. We were just finishing up on the pool table when I suddenly felt a tingling on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. I spun around, the game forgotten, but no one was looking my way.

Charlie waved his hand in front of my face. “You okay?”

“Hmm?”

Joe appeared beside me. “The cue, Ash. Let it go.”

Shit. I released my grip on the cue. Joe stared at me, a faint frown creasing his forehead. I wanted to say something, to clear the air and convince him I wasn’t a freak, but nothing came out.

Charlie dropped his hand on my shoulder, his familiar touch just enough to chase the strange feeling away. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go next door. They’ve got better whiskey.”

The next bar was just as crowded, but it was relaxed and mellow. We found a table in a dark corner, and the creeping sensation I’d felt disappeared as we settled down with a few shots of bourbon.

As was their habit when they moved on to the hard stuff, Charlie and Joe began reliving the year they’d shared a college dorm room. I tuned them out. Their conversation went over my head. I’d never even finished high school. College life seemed like another world.

I twirled my glass in my hand and scanned the faces around me. The bar was definitely a man’s bar, all hard liquor and testosterone. There were a few women around, but not many. The doors opened and shut as patrons came and went. I watched them idly until a mop of familiar dark hair caught my eye. I sat up a little straighter. I’d been half-asleep, but every sense suddenly trained on him.

The figure disappeared into the crowd. I shook my head to clear it. I was imagining shit—wishful thinking, or whatever they called it. I’d only had one shot of bourbon, but maybe it’d gone to my head. I reached for another, forcing myself not to look again and to focus on the conversation around me. It didn’t work, and the next thing I knew, it was Joe’s turn to wave his hand in front of my face, much to Charlie’s amusement.

“Earth to Ash? Who are you staring at?”

I pointed at the flat screen above the bar. “I was watching the game.”

It was enough for Charlie, but Joe wasn’t fooled. He treated me to another searching stare before he shrugged and let it go. “Whatever. Ladies, I’ve got to split. I’ve got to get up in—shit—four hours. Are you going to be okay getting Princess Charlie home?”

I glanced at Charlie. He was fumbling with his pockets and attempting to get his jacket on. “Sure. His place isn’t far from here.”

“Make sure he gets through his front door this time. I’m going back to Seattle for a while, but maybe we could hook up and talk about that design next time I’m in town?”

I furrowed my brow as I tried to recall the conversation we’d had at the beginning of the evening. “You don’t live in Chicago anymore?”

Joe exchanged a glance with Charlie, and his almost permanent grin waned. “My folks live in Seattle. We’ve got some family stuff going on. I’m giving up my place here for a while.”

I was missing something, but it wasn’t my place to pry. I didn’t really know Joe. What went on in his personal life was none of my business. “Get my number from Charlie, and call me when you’re back. I can help you figure something out.”

“Trust me, I’ll be calling you. I’ve got friends who’ll freak when they know I’m getting your ink.”

“Hmm?”

Beside me, Charlie chuckled. “You’re wasting your time with Ash, man. He hasn’t got a clue how awesome he is.”

Joe clapped me on the back. “Fair enough, but, dude, you work for Ted Finnegan. Everyone in Lincoln Park knows you’re the shit.”

He punched my shoulder and left, but with Charlie happily unsteady on his feet, it was a while before I got him ready to go.

I kept a firm grasp on Charlie’s jacket as I followed him out of the bar. Keeping him upright required all my attention, and I’d pretty much forgotten about my quasi-Pete hallucination until Charlie stumbled. I lurched forward to catch him. A steady hand grasped my hip.

“Easy, fucker.”

I whirled around to find Pete behind me with a beer in his hand. The mile-wide grin on his face told me he was more than a little bit buzzed. I grinned back, the weird disappointment I’d felt when I thought I’d imagined him fading fast. “I thought you were working?”

Pete shrugged and offered me his beer. “The bus broke down and they couldn’t find another one. Shame, huh?”

I laughed, lifting the bottle to my lips. “If you say so. You look pretty happy to me.”

“I am.”

I gazed at him, and he gazed right back. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. I was probably even drunker than him, but there was no denying how pleased I was to see him. It was goofy, really. I’d see him at home—hell, I’d see him in bed—but my answering smile felt like it was splitting my face.

Pete let his hand drop from my hip. Bizarrely, we both seemed to have forgotten it was there. “So, this is the drunken guitarist?”

The spell broke. I took another slug of his beer, swallowing slowly as I recalled his response when I’d told him earlier that day I’d probably end up carrying Charlie home at the end of the night.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad way to end a night.”

He’d said it almost absently, like he was talking to himself, but it had stayed with me all day. I smiled up at him now, feeling oddly like he was the only soul in the world. “How can you tell this is Charlie?”

Beside me, Charlie snapped out of his stupor and leaned forward to offer his hand. “Because everybody’s drunk, Ash,” he said seriously.

Pete shook his hand and introduced himself as my roommate. Charlie nodded knowingly. “Hey, man. Nice to put a face to a name.”

I stared at them, completely mystified. Charlie shrugged. “My sister likes to talk. Pete and I are like old friends, right, dude?”

Pete laughed. “Yeah, something like that. Are you leaving?”

I nodded, as bemused as ever. Charlie took advantage of my distraction and migrated toward the line to get back into the bar. I made a grab for him, keeping my eyes on Pete. “I have to see him home or he’ll pass out in the elevator again.”

“Stairwell, actually,” Charlie corrected me with a hiccup.

“Whatever.” I shook my head and turned to Pete, still reluctant to walk away from him. “I’ll see you later?”

Pete tilted his head to the side and gave me a tipsily crooked grin. “Nah, fuck that. I’m coming with you.”