Page 60 of Edged
I stood and smoothed my hands down the front of my shirt to wipe away some of the nervous sweat that had already started to puddle in the deep lines over the hump of my thumb. “I’m good,” I lied.
Archie gave me a doubtful look, but turned anyway and headed toward his front door.
This didn’t matter.
None of this mattered.
They could like me or not, but at the end of the day—end of the weekend, rather—I was getting on a plane and going home. There was no long distance option on the table for me and him, so first impressions with his friends would also be last impressions.
The front door opened, and I listened to an excited crescendo of voices filter inside. Archie tried to get them all to settle down and shut up, but one of his friends laughed and pushed ahead. That friend was the first to make his way into the kitchen and he stopped dead in his tracks after seeing me, lip twitching into what looked like it wanted to be a smirk but didn’t quite know how.
Objectively, the man was handsome. Taller than Archie and almost twice as broad with a square, chiseled jaw and short-cropped dark hair. He had a devious look about him, and his lip flew back up into a smug hint of a smile.
“Flynn.” Archie came up behind him and shoulder-checked him before brushing past and toward me. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.” Flynn tilted his chin toward his chest and the glint in his eyes gave me the distinct impression that he could be anythingbutnice when he wanted to be. “You must be the infamous Owen.”
“You look disappointed.”
Flynn stuck his hand out, and I slid my hand into his. His grip was strong and solid, and I held his stare while we shook.
“You’re like a little glimpse into Archie’s past that I didn’t think any of us would ever get,” Flynn said.
“No kidding,” another man, whose name I’d yet to learn said, coming to stand beside him.
“This is Dalton,” Archie said, flicking his finger toward his other friend.
Dalton was just as handsome as Flynn, with a short and well-trimmed beard that worked its way up his jaw toward eyes so dark they looked like coal.
“Nice to meet the two of you,” I said, shaking Dalton’s hand as well.
Dalton and Flynn exchanged a look that I was nowhere near able to decipher, their attention only broken by the sound of Archie’s voice behind me.
“Did either of you want a drink?”
“I’d honestly prefer a lobotomy,” Dalton said. “But I’ll take gin and some aspirin if you have it.”
Archie laughed and I listened to him bang around in the kitchen, unable to join him from the weight of his friends’ watchful stares.
“Did you have a long night?”
“You were missed,” Flynn said. “Should have gotten into the car.”
“Shut up,” Archie snapped, setting a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of gin down next to our lunch tray.
Dalton finally looked away from me, taking Archie’s seat at the table and twisting the tops off both of the bottles.
“Long night?” I asked, making my way back to the chair I’d occupied before their arrival.
“We normally go out on Thursday nights,” Dalton said, grimacing after swallowing what looked to be a rather large mouthful of gin.
“Trophy Doms business,” Flynn said with a laugh.
Archie’s cheeks flushed red and he pulled out another chair from the table and sat down.
“What now?” I asked.
“He hasn’t told you about us?”
