“Fuck, it’s cold out here.” Landon might seriously have to reconsider the whole motorcycle thing. He’d been cavalier when Robert offered up his sports car for Landon to drive tonight, on one of the coldest nights of the season so far. There weren’t leathers warm enough to guard against this kind of biting cold.
Landon dropped the kickstand in place, pulled off his helmet, and scanned the numbers on the townhomes. It was late, past eleven thirty on a school night, but he could hear classic rock music thumping from a unit in the row as he peeled off his leather gloves. That had to be Mark Peters’s place. He bet the neighbors loved living next to them.
For the first time in his life, he reconsidered accepting his buddy’s invitation to party. Since he’d seen him at the dealership, Mark had been relentless in trying to get them together. Based on what he was seeing and hearing now, he’d made the right decision to assume Robert wouldn’t fit whatever get together Mark had planned. Besides he’d never really been out to his hometown friends, but the news of his family visit with Robert had gone neighborhood-viral, spreading like wildfire through the small circle of friends in Southeast Houston. He guessed Mark had probably heard the news too. Maybe?
The crazy overthinking had returned. Landon noticed it earlier in the day but chose to ignore it like he used to do and hadn’t let himself overanalyze how quiet his head had been since arriving back home from his parents’ house all those months ago. In an effort to continue to ignore his self-doubt, Landon cocked his head, gave an internal shrug while squaring his shoulders as he started for the apartment.
Robert’s presence in his life had settled him except apparently when he wasn’t home. And since his calm seemed contingent on Robert’s physical body being near him, it might be a day or two before he settled down again. This time, though, he didn’t doubt Robert returning to him—that was a point in favor of his confidence. Landon barely got his knuckles to the metal door when it opened, and Mark’s giant, easygoing grin spread wide.
“’Bout fuckin’ time you came.”
The faint smell of pot hit him as soon as the door had opened.
He should go.
What a puss he’d become. It was just a little pot.
Peer-pressuring himself… How lame was that? “It’s late. I can’t stay long.”
“Come on in. I’m glad you came by. Hey, guess who’s here,” Mark called out as Landon stepped inside the entryway. Mark’s wife Jessica, also an old classmate, came around the corner, stumbling a bit as she walked forward, not stopping as she got closer. Her glassy eyes and bright smile came within inches of his face as she wrapped herself around him in her drunken excitement. Clearly, nothing had changed here. Landon was instantly taken straight back to high school.
“You look great,” she cooed in his ear.
“Jessica, let him in so I can shut the door,” Mark said, irritably.
“Heather’s gonna be shocked as shit that I saw you.”
As Landon moved aside to shut the door, a flash of a camera blinded him.
“You really do look great, Landon. Better than in high school, and you were the cutest boy in the school back then.” She twirled around and left them standing there, focused on her phone as she walked away.
“She’s trashed, ignore her. Come get a beer, man. Branson’s in here, and I got some buddies for you to meet.” Mark took off down the small hall leading into the apartment. The needling in the back of his mind kept up a steady anthem, urging him to leave, but old habits won out. He nodded once and moved forward. He’d have a beer then take off.
Two hours later, Landon was in deep conversation, shooting the shit about everyone and everything that had ever happened in his hometown since he’d left all those years ago. The loud, thumping classic rock and roll music had softened. The pot hadn’t really been an issue since they’d let him bow out without giving him too much shit about his new outlook. Truthfully, as the night wore on, Landon had remembered he’d spent quite a bit of time with Mark and Branson in their youth. He was having a pretty good time strolling down memory lane.
Jessica’s phone seemed an extension of her body. The time of night gave her no pause in texting or calling people. The loud, annoying alert sounded again.
“God damn, I’m fuckin’ sick of that phone,” Mark blurted.
Landon lifted his brows at the sudden burst of anger but couldn’t deny the message echoed Landon’s exact feelings. Jessica didn’t seem fazed in the least, maybe even pleased she’d gotten that reaction from Mark as she stared disbelievingly at Landon.
“Omigod, you’re marrying a doctor?” she asked, surprised. For the first time since he’d arrived, the conversation turned from reminiscing about the past into the world around them in present day. “What the hell, Landon? You’ve been here for hours. Why am I hearing that from Heather?” She looked as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Landon grinned at her outrage, probably fueled by her wish to spread the word herself. He reached for his second beer of the night, tipping back the warm liquid, drawing out the suspense. “Well, a retired one, I guess.”
“Dude, you got yourself a rich cougar?” Branson said, his extended good job hand-slap was immediate.
“Sweet,” Mark said, reaching across for the hand slap sequence they had shared in high school.
Luckily, before Landon had to explain the ‘cougar’ was in fact a young man, Landon’s phone vibrated, drawing his attention to the device stuck inside his pocket. With a tap
