Guyliner Page 11

  His father handed out the tickets when they lined up at the entrance to the stadium.

  “Holy crap!” Connor blurted.

  Graham shot a look at Connor, who stared at his ticket in disbelief. Graham glanced at his own ticket. “What?”

  “These seats.”

  “What about them?”

  “Dude, they’re practically behind home plate. We’re right up front and center. Hell, we’ll probably be on TV with every shot of the batter.”

  “Really?” Graham eyed the aisle signs and followed them to the field as they trailed after his father to their seats. “That’s good, right?”

  “Good? It’s fantastic. I don’t think we could get a better view.” Connor narrowed his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Maybe a little.” Graham smirked. “So, now we need peanuts and Cracker Jacks, right?”

  Connor rolled his eyes.

  “Isn’t that how the song goes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They still do that, right?”

  “What, the song or the Cracker Jacks?”

  “Both. Either. I don’t know. This is my first baseball game.”

  “I guess if you’re a purist, you can go for the peanuts and Cracker Jacks, but I prefer nachos and corn dogs. Besides, the prizes in the Cracker Jacks aren’t what they used to be.”

  “I guess I’ll have to be guided by your expertise.”

  They followed his mom and dad down the aisle as they talked. Graham thought he might drown in the sea of blue. The pungent smell of popcorn, grilled meat, and beer assaulted him. There was something so wholesome and all-American about a Major League Baseball game. The crowd, the game. The flood of ads and vendors. Everywhere Graham looked, someone was trading money for something—whether it was a corn dog or a souvenir hat.

  His dad stopped at one of the front rows of seats and greeted the men standing there. “Max, Jake, it’s good to see you again.”

  “Damn,” Graham muttered. “I should have asked more questions about who we were meeting here.”

  Next to Jake Ambrose stood his son, Peter, who was nearly a carbon copy of his father.

  “What’s the matter?” Connor asked.

  Graham tried to hang back. How was he supposed to handle this? Seeing Peter here was bad news on several fronts. Peter was one of the few people who had known Graham was gay a couple years ago, and they’d fooled around a little, but even worse, Peter knew things about Graham that he wasn’t ready to face.

  “Hey, Graham.” Peter nodded from his seat.

  Graham tried to school his face into a bland expression that matched Peter’s tone. “Peter. What’s up?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual.” Peter pushed his shaggy bangs off his forehead and studied Graham. Peter looked like he’d stepped straight out of a Diesel ad—everything brand-new and picture-perfect. Peter tucked his hands into his pockets and eyed Connor speculatively. “Are you going to introduce us?”

  A quick glance showed that Connor had picked up on some of the tension, though he hadn’t determined the cause. Graham turned to him. “Sure. Connor, this is Peter Ambrose. Our fathers worked together in St. Louis. Peter, this is Connor Fitzpatrick, a friend from Green Valley.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Connor reached out to shake Peter’s hand. Graham could tell by the careful voice and perfect manners that Connor wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation. He’d noticed Connor tended to resort to formality when confronted with uncertainty.

  “Friend, huh?”

  Connor narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Hmm.”

  Graham wanted to kick Peter. Before he could give in to the temptation, he heard the announcer going through the starting lineup. His parents and his dad’s business buddies sat down, still talking investments or whatever, which left three seats for the boys. Graham found himself sandwiched between Peter and Connor.

  When Connor focused on the field, Peter turned to Graham, his face serious. “How are you, Graham, really? When my dad told me about… you know… I would’ve come to visit you at the hospital, but I was in Europe.”

  Graham cut him off with a sharp gesture. “It’s all good. Don’t talk about it, though, okay?”

  “You mean you haven’t told—”

  “I haven’t told anyone,” Graham said under his breath.

  Peter’s shocked protest was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the Cubs took the field. Graham caught the concerned glance Connor sent his way. Graham forced his attention to the field. “I don’t know squat about baseball. You’ll let me know when I’m supposed to cheer, right?”

  Connor laughed. “Sure. Pretty much whenever our team hits the ball or catches the ball, we cheer.”

  “Yeah, but which team is ours?”

  Connor looked at him as if trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Graham tried to keep a clueless look on his face, but when Connor grinned, he knew he’d failed.

  “Dumbass,” Connor said, elbowing Graham in the side.

  Though he really couldn’t have cared less about the sport, Graham enjoyed Connor’s enthusiasm. When Connor leaned close to explain about RBIs and designated hitters, Graham got caught up in the golden flecks in Connor’s hazel eyes. And when Connor surged to his feet with the rest of the crowd after a particularly impressive play—though Graham wasn’t entirely sure what was so impressive about the outfielder’s catch—Graham marveled at the way the soft cotton T-shirt stretched across Connor’s broad shoulders.

  Peter leaned over and whispered in Graham’s ear, “Friends, huh?”

  “Shut it,” Graham muttered under his breath as Connor settled back into his seat.

  “Anyone want something to drink?” His mom stood up and grabbed her purse. She took orders for beer and soda and then turned to her son. “Graham, why don’t you come with me and help carry the drinks.” The determined look in her face made it clear that it was an order, not a request.

  His brows drew together. “Okay.”

  “Here.” Connor held a handful of bills out to him. “For my soda.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Graham waved the money away. “We’ve got it.” Graham could see the desire to press the issue in Connor’s pursed lips but held his ground. After a brief staring contest, Connor looked away and tucked his money back into his wallet.

  He and his mother hadn’t made it halfway to the concession area before she spoke up. “You need to be careful.”

  “What?” He halted and his mom followed suit. His mom was nearly as tall as he was, so they were practically eye-to-eye as they stood there.

  “You need to be careful.” She emphasized her statement with a nod. “Your feelings for Connor are clear as day. If you’re not careful, he’s going to notice.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t give me that. I know you, Graham. You’re setting yourself up for, at best, a broken heart, but at worst….” Her voice trailed off.

  “Mom, we’re friends. That’s all. There’s nothing to worry about. I know better than to try and hook up with a straight guy. You’re reading too much into whatever it is you think you see.” He avoided meeting her eyes. Maybe if he could convince his mom, he could convince himself. She hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already told himself. But still, he really didn’t need his mom obsessing over his love life. He shuddered at the thought.

  She reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. “Graham, be careful, okay?”

  “Whatever.” Graham tucked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans and led the way to the nearest concession stand.

  THE END of the game came with a lot less pomp than the beginning. At the top of the ninth, the boys in blue led by three runs. When the final strike was called, fans had already started heading for the exits. Connor stood back while Mr. and Mrs. Parker made plans to meet their colleagues for a late dinner near the hotel, which, Graham assured Connor, they weren’t required to attend. While they waite
d, Connor pulled out his phone to check for messages. Not that he was expecting a call, but he needed something to do with his hands. Now that the distraction of the game was out of the way, the weird vibes he’d picked up from Peter and Graham intensified.

  During the game Connor had noticed that Peter kept trying to draw Graham into conversation. Every now and then they had exchanged looks that seemed somehow significant. When Graham and his mom had left to pick up drinks, Connor had caught Peter giving him an appraising once-over.

  As if thinking about him somehow made him appear, Graham showed up with his mother. Peter came over and pulled Graham aside, speaking to him in a low voice. Connor didn’t want to listen to their conversation. Or, more accurately, he didn’t want to want to listen in. A better person wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Connor couldn’t seem to help himself.

  While he watched them, Connor fiddled with his phone, scrolling through old texts. They stood close, faces intent. Peter reached out and rested his hand on Graham’s bicep, and Connor’s fingers gripped the phone convulsively.

  “Seriously, Graham, I missed you. My dad and I will be in the city tonight. Why don’t we go out somewhere? Catch up.”

  The words themselves weren’t suggestive, but the voice—the voice was honey-rich, and the hand on Graham’s arm trailed toward his wrist in a light caress.

  The back of Connor’s phone case popped off, a casualty of his crushing hold. He cursed, bending down to scoop up the cracked plastic while still keeping tabs on the conversation.

  “Sorry.” Graham shifted away from Peter’s grip. Something in Connor’s gut loosened as Graham put more space between him and the other boy. “I’ve got company. I figured Connor and I would find something to entertain us in the city.”

  Disappointment flashed across Peter’s face before he was able to mask it. He shrugged. “That’s cool. You still have my number, right? Text me sometime.” When Peter looked his way, Connor made a point of glancing down and fitting the back of his phone into place. “Nice meeting you,” Peter said. Connor nodded and watched the sandy-haired boy walk away with Mr. Ambrose.

  Connor and the Parkers made their way through the stadium and to the car. Cracking his knuckles, Connor said to Graham, “So, you knew Peter in St. Louis?”

  “Yeah, our dads’ business interests brought us together a lot.”

  “You were friends?”

  “Sort of.” Graham looked away and tucked his hands into his pockets.

  “Sort of?”

  “Well, actually, we dated for a while. Nothing serious, but, well, it’s been a little awkward since.”

  “You can go out with him tonight if you want. I don’t mind hanging in the room.” Connor held his breath. Offering may have been the right thing to do, but he really hoped Graham wouldn’t take him up on it.

  “Nah. It’s cool. You and I have plans for tonight.”

  “We do? What?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  Secret plans in the city on a Saturday night? “Why does that make me nervous?”

  Graham smirked. “’Cause you’re a smart guy.”

  Connor nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

  Chapter 16

  “I’M NOT sure this is a good idea.” Connor sat on the edge of one of the queen-size beds in their hotel room, looking about as uncomfortable as Graham had ever seen him.

  “Don’t be a wimp. It’ll be fun. Besides, when’s the next time you’ll get an opportunity like this? There aren’t any clubs within forty miles of Green Valley, underage or otherwise.”

  “Yeah, but does it have to be in Boystown?”

  “Why not? Are you afraid someone will think you’re gay?”

  “That’s not it. No one will know me, so I don’t care what they think. It’s….” He looked deep in thought; then after a moment, he nodded, apparently his decision made. “You know what? Let’s do it. It’s time I did something spontaneous. There’s one problem, though.”

  “What’s that?” Graham held back his smile, but the thrill dancing through his body made him want to sing. It had been forever since he’d had a night out with a friend, a night of music and dancing, hanging out in a city. Green Valley was turning out to be an all right kind of place, but it definitely lacked excitement.

  “Don’t laugh, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

  Graham did laugh. Not quite what he’d been expecting. “We’ll figure something out. Grab your bag. What did you bring?”

  “Only the stuff for going to the game. It didn’t occur to me that we’d be going out. My mom made me pack a button-down shirt in case we went to dinner or something, but that’s pretty much it.” Connor upended the bag on the bed, sifting through the possibilities.

  Graham caught sight of a white tank undershirt. Though this one was clean, it brought back memories from the day he’d gone by the shop and saw Connor in his oil-stained shirt. Graham’s grin widened. He’d had a ton of daydreams about Connor in that shirt.

  He pulled it out of the pile and offered it to Connor. “This.”

  Connor’s brow creased. “Seriously? It’s an undershirt.”

  “I know. But that paired with your jeans is a great combination. The club will be hot so you’ll be grateful within a few minutes. Besides, you’ve got awesome arms. You might as well show them off, set the pretty boys to drooling.”

  A blush darkened Connor’s golden skin. “Knock it off.”

  It was crazy how much Connor seemed to blush. Crazier still, Graham found it adorable. And sexy. But he tried not to think about that. He’d lost most of his friends after the situation in St. Louis, so he couldn’t afford to run off the only real friend he had in Green Valley by making him uncomfortable. Also, lusting after Connor was a guaranteed heartbreak.

  With a doubtful look, Connor took the shirt from him. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am. So no more wasting time. Let’s get changed and head out. I’ll take the bathroom, you change out here. We leave in ten minutes.”

  After quickly grabbing his clothes and toiletry bag from his suitcase, he shut himself into the bathroom. It only took a second to ditch his shirt and jeans. A glance in the mirror and his excitement dimmed. Though the marks didn’t look as horrible as they had months ago, the scars covering half his torso and most of his right arm were still disgusting. Was this really a good idea? His stomach clenched. Was he actually ready to go out and join that scene again?

  The sounds of Connor zipping his bag in the other room got him moving. Ready or not, he thought, here we go.

  Hair putty, a comb, and hairspray took care of creating the punk look he liked for his hair. The pants he pulled on were skintight leather that had cost a small fortune but were absolutely worth the money. He paired them with a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt he’d picked up at a thrift shop for pennies. The vibrant cerulean blue made his eyes positively glow. Which reminded him. He grabbed the eyeliner out of his bathroom bag. It was one thing to go without when attending a baseball game, but for a night out in the city, the more glam the better.

  He was leaning over the sink when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Come on in.” Keeping his gaze fixed on the mirror, he traced the black pencil along his lash line.

  The door cracked open, and Connor peered through the gap. “Hey. Do you have any hair gel I can use?”

  Graham glanced at Connor from the corner of his eye, and his mouth went dry. Oh yeah, Connor in a tight white tank top was a sight to behold.

  “Graham?”

  Realizing he was gaping at Connor—and the mirror provided up close and personal proof—Graham lowered the eyeliner. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Hair gel?”

  “Oh yeah. Here.” Graham fished in his bag and withdrew the tube.

  “Thanks.” Connor dabbed a bit of the sticky stuff in the palm of his hand and raked his fingers through his blond hair.

  “Here, let me do that.”

  “Huh?”

  Graham brushed Connor’
s hands aside and used his own. It was strangely intimate, styling someone else’s hair. Maybe that’s why he did it. Torturing himself with thoughts of what he couldn’t have seemed to be Graham’s newest pastime. He tunneled his fingers through Connor’s blond curls, slicking the sides up and back, and spiking the top.

  “Hey, that looks great.” Connor twisted his head side to side, checking out the full effect.

  “It does.” Graham repacked his bag and grabbed his wallet off the counter. “Ready?”

  “I am.” The smile Connor flashed was so wide that his dimples made an appearance. “I don’t think you are, though. You either need to color in the other eye or erase that one.”

  Crap. Graham closed his eyes and blew out a breath. He’d only lined one eye. “It’s a new style I’m inventing.”

  “I’m not sure the world is ready for your vision.”

  “You may be right. I guess I’ll do the standard two-eye makeup look.” He picked up the eyeliner again and leaned toward the mirror to finish up. His hand shook a little, making it take longer than usual. It would have helped if Connor didn’t scrutinize the process as though he’d be tested on it later. With a final swipe of a finger to create the perfect smudge, Graham called it good.

  “Now I’m ready. Got your ID?”

  Connor patted his pocket. “Got it.”

  “Let’s roll.”

  Chapter 17

  EVEN IF the rest of the evening flopped, Graham would call the experience a success based entirely on Connor’s reaction to Boystown. The neighborhood sat outside Wrigleyville, and according to what Graham had found online while looking for an underage club in the area, one of the first dedicated LGBTQ communities in the country. There was no hiding the orientation of the district either. Rainbow flags decorated most of the buildings. Neon signs flashed, lighting up the night with their bright glow. Colorful art deco pylons stood tall and proud along the strip. But the flags and the art were nothing compared to the people.