Page 100 of Silver Sweet

Tom squints at it.

I rattle the bottle. “Or is your master plan to be drunk when you sleep with him? That way you don’t remember a thing?”

“Fuck…you.” Tom pokes my arm and tries to be steady on his feet. He careens a little too far to the left but manages to stay upright.

I shove the water in his hand. “If he tries to fuck you while you’re wasted, he’s going to be in the hospital by the end of the night.”

“You won’t be around to see.”

I brace myself in a lunge, out of breath. I glare at Tom. “You would risk being taken advantage of, but you wouldn’t risk kissing me. Got it.”

His face breaks. “Dude, I’m messing with you. Just…breathe.” He tries to pass me the water like I’m dehydrated.

I push it back into his face.Gently.So he doesn’t fall.

Tom puts the rim to his mouth, swigs, then says, “RJ is nice. He wouldn’t take advantage of me. I believe that.”

“I don’t trust nice guys.” I sip his vodka, just so he drinks less.

Tom doesn’t even notice. “Why? Because you’re a big fucking meanie?” He almost trips over his feet, but I catch his hip.

He’s a stupid, cute drunk. This is terrible on so many levels. “Because it usually means they’re hiding something. Seeing as how you don’t know jack-shit about him?—”

“I know he’s Russian-American,” Tom mimes a mic drop. “There’s that, bitch.”

“Jesus.” I grind away my smile. “How’d you uncover this if you don’t even know his last name?”

“He has a cousin in the ballet.” Right, I’ve heard Tom’s brother, Beckett, is a principal dancer at NYBC. Mutual connections, I’m guessing.

Tom places the Aquafina on the table. “If there’s a mystery that needs to be cracked, I’ll crack it.”

He wants to be the one to. Otherwise, he could’ve found more answers from his security detail or from his brother.

I nod to him. “Because you’ve done a great job at that after twoyears. Hey, what’s his name again?”

“You don’t think I asked?” Tom extends his arm across the table. “I have like…five times. But he always drowns out my questions with…” His voice trails off as he sees RJ approaching with two beers in hand. Tom straightens out of his slouch against the table. He was one second from laying his head against his arm.

Now, he draws farther away from me, and my hand slips off his side. I smother the urge to slip my fingers into his waistband and pull him back toward me.

Tom didn’t need to finish his sentence. I can imagine RJ kissing him to avoid turning what they have into something more personal. And based on everything he’s told me, I know Tom craves an emotional connection. RJ isn’t reciprocating, but Tom still seeks him out…in what? Hopes that changes?

RJ places the two beers on the table, and as he slides a Koning Lite to Tom, I steal it.

“Thanks,” I say dryly. “You shouldn’t have.” I take a tight swig.

“That’s because I didn’t,” RJ says nonchalantly, no heat to his voice. He sees Tom swaying (and not to the music), and he up-nods to me again. “Probably a good call.” Then he rests a casual arm around Tom’s waist. His lips dip down to Tom’s ear as he whispers something.

I watch RJ’s arm ascending. He wraps it more firmly around Tom’s shoulders, bracing him from falling by tucking him to his side, and as he kisses Tom’s temple, it feels like my soul leaves my body.

I blink a few times and rip at the Koning label on the bottle. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were a couple.

My heart hammers against my ribcage. “So your name is RJ?” I steal his attention, but he doesn’t drop his arm off Tom. “That short for something?”

“Yeah, a mouthful of a name.” He tips the beer to his lips, taking a small sip.

“Great, what is it?” I ask roughly.

Tom’s eyes blow wide open at me like I’m going to scare off his hookup. Now there’s an idea I can rock with.