It's Complicated (Legacy Mechanics Book 2), page 4
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “She didn’t have knives on her walls or anything, but she loved candle wax.”
“Candle wax? Are we talking about what I think we are?”
“If you think we’re talking about pouring hot wax on people during sex, then yes.”
“Talk about an interesting time to walk into the conversation,” Luka said, sliding in next to us. “You have a thing for hot wax?”
“Not me, a girl I used to hook up with. She loved it. I don’t get the appeal, but it was hot as fuck watching her enjoy it.”
Luka glanced at me. “That sounds like something you’d be into.”
“Nope, not that I’m aware of.” I shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to knock it until I try it, but that’s never been on my radar.”
Luka pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Where’s Zander? Did he head out?”
“He went to get some air,” I said.
“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Luka said, putting his drink on the table.
He darted away before either of us could answer.
“That was weird, right?” Jamie asked.
I nodded, too distracted by my own shit to worry about Luka’s.
Jamie reached under his tee and tugged at the bet shirt again.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He made a face. “Fine. It’s just tight.”
Catching the hem of his tee, I tugged the material up to reveal some of his side.
“Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
The shirt was way tighter on him now than when we left the apartment. The material was so snug that little pockets of his skin bubbled out from under the cutouts, and I could already see a few red streaks on him where the shirt had shifted over the last few hours.
“A bet is a bet.” He shrugged.
“The bet was you wear the shirt I picked out. Being in pain wasn’t part of the deal.” I dropped his tee and scanned the bar for Jesse.
I caught sight of him on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with his boyfriend. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted him.
Isaac: can you watch the table for a minute? I need to save Jamie from his shirt
I watched in real time as Jesse pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked my text. He looked up from his screen and caught my eye, then gave me a quick nod.
“Come on,” I said.
“What about the drinks?” Jamie asked.
“Jesse’s coming to watch them.” I waved in their direction as they walked toward us.
Jamie stood and fell into step beside me as we headed toward the bathrooms.
Thankfully there wasn’t a line for the men’s room, and we were able to walk right in. A few guys were at the urinals, but it was otherwise empty.
“Do you think you can get that off alone?” I asked.
He gave a hopeless shrug. “Maybe? It feels like it’s getting tighter the longer I wear it.”
“In there.” I motioned to a bathroom stall.
He went in. I followed and closed the door behind me. The stall was tiny, barely big enough for both of us to stand in it, but it would have to do.
“Take your shirt off.”
Jamie did as I said, pulling it up over his head.
“Jesus Christ,” I gaped at his torso. It was as bad as that small bit of his side I’d seen. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I repeated.
He shrugged again. “It’s not like I’m dying. Play through the pain and all that.”
I took his tee from him and tucked it into my waistband so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. “This isn’t the championship game. Suffering wasn’t part of the deal. I wanted you to look ridiculous, not cut off your ability to breathe.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal.” He tugged at the neckline, his grimace telling me it was a big deal.
As ex-hockey players, Jamie and I both experienced the same conditioning growing up. Nothing was more important than the game. Pain was inconsequential as long as you got the W and complaining was somehow a failure.
It took time to break that mindset, and this wasn’t the first time Jamie hid being in pain because of it.
“Shut up and hold still so I can get this off you,” I said, guilt sweeping through me.
I should have realized the stupid shirt would make him so uncomfortable, and I hated that I was the reason he was struggling.
He shot me a soft smile, like he could read where my thoughts had gone and was telling me he knew I didn’t mean for this to happen.
Pulling the shirt on had been tough but trying to yank it up was nearly impossible. The material was stretchy, but it didn’t breathe. The heat from wearing two shirts in a crowded bar made him a bit sweaty, which only made the shirt cling to him like it had been glued on.
After about five minutes of tugging and trying to peel the shirt up, all I managed to do was expose a three-inch strip of his stomach and shift the bottom hem so it cut into his waist instead of across his hips.
“This probably looks really weird to anyone in the bathroom,” he whispered, leaning in close so only I could hear him.
His hot breath tickled my ear and neck, sending little tingles through me.
What the hell?
Ignoring my body’s reaction, I stopped tugging on the shirt.
He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t bothered to stifle my little grunts of frustration every time my hands slipped or I lost my grip and almost punched one of us in the face during my struggles.
It probably looked and sounded like we were hooking up.
“Do you trust me?” I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes on my keychain as I separated my penknife from the ring.
“It’ll take forever to cut it off, but I can at least open up the chest so you can breathe better.” I tucked my keys away. “You good with that? We can get the rest off when we get home.”
“Yeah. That’ll help.” He let out a shuddery breath. “It’s getting worse.”
I flipped the small knife out of the sheath. “All that yanking on it didn’t help.” I showed him the blade. It wasn’t sharp, but it was still a knife. “You still good with this?”
“Yeah, of course.” He sucked in a breath.
“What are you doing?” I slipped my finger under the hem of the shirt and tugged as far away from his stomach as I could.
“Sucking it in.”
I snort-laughed. “Sucking what in? Your six-pack?” Carefully, I slid the blade under the hem. The material caught on the knife, not giving at all when I pulled on it. I’d have to saw it.
“More like a two-pack.” He relaxed and stood normally. “Been slacking on the gym lately.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, concentrating on sawing the hem and not stabbing him in the stomach. “Same. I blame you.”
For the past three years, Jamie and I had stuck to a pretty rigorous workout routine. Partly because we’d spent most of our lives as elite athletes and working out multiple times a day hadn’t been uncommon for us, but also because the gym gave us another outlet for our excess energy.
We’d cut our five days a week schedule down to two, sometimes three, days because it was easier to sit at home and eat snacks than it was to get our ass to the gym when we weren’t feeling it.
“Me?” He huffed out a laugh. “You’re just as guilty as me for finding excuses to not go.”
“I’ll give you that.” I paused and shot him a quick grin. “You know me, I’m the world’s worst enabler.”
“You really are. I swear you can justify anything if you want it bad enough.”
“It’s a gift,” I said, resuming my work on the hem. “How about whoever tries to back out of gym time has to…” I couldn’t think of a good dare when I was focusing on the task at hand.
“Wear the gold shorts to show their shame.”
I paused again, a laugh bubbling out of my chest. “Deal.”
The shorts in question were a pair of gold lamé booty shorts that had been part of a Halloween costume I’d worn years ago. They covered just enough to not be indecent during a workout but were absolutely ridiculous looking. We’d both had to wear the shorts multiple times after losing bets, and I didn’t see us retiring them any time soon.
Finally, the knife snagged against the seam of the hem. I closed the blade and pressed it into Jamie’s hand. “Hold this.”
Gripping the edges of the slice I’d cut through the folded part of the hem, I pulled hard, yanking on the ends until the cut ripped through the thicker stitching of the seam.
Now the bottom hugged his waist instead of digging into it.
“Better?” I looked up at his face to see how he was doing and took the knife back.
“Yeah.” He breathed in, then let it out in a rush.
Opening the knife again, I tackled some of the strappy parts snaking across his chest. The thinner strips were easy to cut through, but the thicker ones were too much for my knife.
Giving up on trying to cut all the way through them, I focused on sawing a big enough slice into the material so I could tear the rest.
“I’m going to have quite the story to tell at work on Monday when Delilah asks what we got up to this weekend.”
I snickered. “What are you going to tell her?”
Delilah was Jamie’s closest work friend. They’d started at the bank at the same time and had gone through training together.
She loved hearing the stories of our many adventures, and she was an amazing baker and food blogger who used us as her taste testers when she tried new recipes.
“That you made me wear a shredded leotard as a dare, and we ended up having to cut me out of it in the bathroom of a bar using your grandpa’s penknife.”
“She’s going to laugh her ass off.”
“As she should.” He made a soft sound, not quite a grunt, but close enough.
“You good?” I looked up at him.
He grimaced. “Yeah. Just uncomfortable.”
I could feel heat radiating off his skin. “Are you getting hot?” Being squished into the stall together, on top of all the pulling and yanking and cutting, was making me sweat. It had to be so much worse for him being encased in skintight polyester.
He nodded. “A bit.”
Snapping the blade closed, I slipped the knife away. “Just let me rip these open. That should help.”
“Yeah, okay.” He huffed out a little sigh. “I’m so getting you back for this.”
“I deserve it.” I shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
He smiled. “All good, Z. I know that.”
Tearing my eyes from his, I gripped one of the thicker straps I’d sliced. “Hold still.”
It took way more effort than I’d admit to tear the strips, and we were both sweating and a little out of breath by the time I ripped the last one open.
Jamie’s expression went blissful as he drew in a big breath, holding it with his chest puffed out for a few seconds.
The brush of his pecs against mine sent a zing through me as a memory of Jamie with that same expression during our dreaded threesome flashed in my mind’s eye.
Awareness crackled in my consciousness as the world sort of tunneled again, the edges of my vision fading until all I could see was Jamie and the look of utter bliss on his face.
Loudly, he blew out the breath, his whole body relaxing as he did. The scrape of his chest against mine had the same effect as being touched with a live wire. My breathing hitched, my heart raced, and all my higher reasoning shut down.
As he exhaled, Jamie leaned forward, his face inching closer to mine.
Without thinking, without even knowing what I was doing, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.
Alarm bells went off in my head the second our lips connected, all my faculties coming back to me in the same instant I realized what I’d done. What I was still doing.
What the fuck?
I jerked away at the same moment his eyes flew open. He froze, his face a mask of shock, then jumped back as well.
“Sorry,” I croaked.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why had my instinct been to kiss my best friend? I wasn’t into guys, and this was Jamie. What the fuck had possessed me to kiss him?
Jamie stared at me, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. He shook his head like he was forcing himself back into reality. “It’s fine.” He smiled, but it was wobbly and forced. “Got a little too excited about being able to breathe and didn’t notice how close I was getting.”
“It wasn’t you—”
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Accidents happen, right?”
I knew I should tell him the truth, that I’d kissed him and it had nothing to do with him getting too close or not paying attention, but something in his eyes was off. They were pleading, like he wanted me to agree with him, even if it wasn’t true.
“Right.” Clearing my throat, I tugged his t-shirt free from my waistband and handed it to him. “Another crazy story, right?”
“Right.” He grabbed the shirt and flipped it around in his hands to find the bottom. “It’s always something with us.”
His tone was strange, and his movements were jerky, like he wasn’t fully in control of himself but was trying to seem unaffected by what had just happened.
I cut my gaze away from him and stared at the wall.
It was pointless to avert my eyes now, especially since we were still toe-to-toe and I’d just spent ten minutes staring at his cutout-covered torso, but I needed a second to get my head back in order.
First I’d gotten jealous when Jamie had been talking to that chick at the bar, then I’d kissed him without even thinking about it.
Was this leftover from last weekend? Was I still so out of sorts that it was making me act like a nutbar tonight?
“Ready?”
Jamie’s soft voice startled me out of my musings. I jumped, bumping our chests hard enough we both teetered on our feet.
“You okay?” he asked, grabbing my arms and steadying me.
“Yeah. Fine.” I smiled, but even I could tell that it probably looked like I was trying to hold in a fart and not an actual smile. “Ready to go home?”
“How about we hang out for a bit longer?” he suggested.
“Yeah, that works. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Sticking around and hanging out was a much better option than going home. I needed some time to process everything that happened tonight, and to do that, I needed a distraction. And to not be alone with Jamie until I got over whatever had possessed me to kiss him.
“Now that I can breathe, I’ll be fine.” He smiled crookedly. “And I could really use a drink.”
I started to say “Me too,” but stopped. Drinking right now was off the table. Not just because I was driving, but also because using booze to solve my problems was a habit I’d broken years ago. I wasn’t about to backslide now.
“Let’s see if they’re still around,” I said instead.
Only a few guys were in the washroom when I opened the door to the stall. The guys at the urinal ignored us, but the ones at the sink openly stared at us, not being subtle with their curiosity as we left the stall.
Ignoring them, Jamie and I made our way back into the bar. Jesse and Sebastian were still at the table, a half-full pitcher on the table between them.
“Have you been saved?” Sebastian asked with a smirk when he saw us.
“Mostly,” Jamie said as we came up to the table.
“Did you get that thing off? You were gone for a while,” Jesse asked.
“Nope, but Z cut a bunch of it up so I can breathe again.” Jamie dropped into the seat across from him.
“You two are ridiculous.” Jesse leaned back in his chair and slung his arm over the back of Bas’s seat.
“Tell us something we don’t know.” I sat across from Jesse, pasting on my best smirk-smile and giving them a little shrug. “At least we keep you entertained.”
“That you do,” Jesse agreed. “Are Luka and Zander around?”
“Not sure. Luka went to check on Zander just before I texted you. He needed some air.”
Jesse nodded. “And Asa left?”
“Shit, yeah. I forgot to say bye for him.”
Jesse grinned. “You forgot something? Shocker.” He pointed at the pitcher. “Another?”
Jamie nodded and went to grab his still half-full glass from where he’d put it earlier.
“I’ll get you a fresh glass.” I jumped up.
“Are you sure?” Jamie asked. “It’s not like I can’t mix old and new beer if it’s from the same pitcher.”
“I’ve got it. I need another soda anyway.”
Not waiting to see if they accepted my excuses, I hurried away from the table and toward the bar.
What happened in the bathroom wasn’t a big deal.
It was a weird night after having a weird week. That was it.
I just had to get over whatever the fuck was going on with me and everything would go back to normal.
An accidental kiss between friends wasn’t the end of the world.
4
JAMIE
“I think these will work better than my knife.”
I looked up from where I’d been staring at the floor as Isaac came into my room, a pair of kitchen shears in his hand.
Hopefully he hadn’t noticed how distracted I’d been since he’d saved me in the bathroom. I’d hoped that sticking around and hanging out with the guys for a while would help me get over my weirdness, but all it did was give me more time to obsess over our sort of, but not really, kiss.
“Definitely better than a pocketknife,” I agreed.
He came to stand in front of me, his expression guarded. “Do you want to do it?”
I shook my head. “It’ll be easier if you do it.”
Liar.
I ignored the little voice in my head calling me out. It would be easier, but that wasn’t the reason I suggested it.
Something about watching Isaac cut me out of the shirt, seeing how careful he’d been, how gentle, had shaken something loose inside me.
