Bone Diggers (Paperback out now!)

Bone Diggers Chapter Thirty Five

Loading... Chapter Thirty Five

Owen was dangerously drunk; not a danger to himself, but of the bartender cutting him off. He played with the empty shot glass, completely losing count of how many had come before it. The TV in the corner of the room was annoyingly replaying—for the third time—an ambush interview with an fnVR rep, citing that they always had an eye on players worthy of official sponsorship. The guy didn't want to talk. Owen could sympathize.

"Buy you a drink?"

He turned to the unfamiliar voice, finding a gentleman leaning into the bar next to him. Or, at least that's the best word he had for the man who was dressed in a well-fitted suit at this hour. His eyes had the same sly amusement that Lance carried. "Unless you were waiting for someone else?" he added. Owen had been staring without realizing it.

"No." The glass fumbled as he drew his hands back. "I'd love a drink, but it depends."

Owen bit his bottom lip, slowly dragging it past his teeth. "How well you kiss."

The man didn't shy away, despite a quick glance around the room. He leaned in, and Owen grabbed his tie pulling him roughly closer. The man placed his hands along Owen's jaw, pulling gently with a shared want that incited a soft moan to rumble underneath his fingertips.

Owen's heart beat unevenly in his chest, and he only realized his fingers were still wrapped around the stranger's tie when he glanced down.

"Did I pass?" The man asked, certain of his success. A hint of red now graced his cheeks and added color to the slight curl of his black hair. It was an attractive look on him.

Owen nodded. "What's your name?" he asked far out of order.

"Does it matter?"

"God no, unless you plan on staying here longer."

***

Owen woke up to the smell of coffee. It was great for a moment before the smell seemed to die. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, eyes barely open. His hand reached towards the nightstand, but fell, touching nothing but air. Owen opened his eyes more to see why the nightstand had moved, but ended up staring at a sleek glass set. Those weren't his...and neither was that headboard, or those lamps.

Panic made him nearly lose his stomach, but in a bedroom that wasn't his, where would the bathroom, or even a trash can, be hiding? Owen squeezed his eyes shut with enough force that they hurt and tried to remember to breathe.

"You're up," announced a somehow familiar voice. Owen jumped up so fast that his vision dimmed around the edges for a second. This time at least, the nightstands were there to help support him.

"Jumpy little guy, aren't you?" The man took a sip of his coffee, and it clicked. The guy from the bar last night. Lane? Levi? Leo? Fuck, it was an L something. The name search was abandoned when a second thing in his head clicked. The guy was shirtless and in boxers.

Owen glanced at himself. Shirt on, but uselessly and completely unbuttoned. His jeans were on, but also undone. "Oh god," he breathed, and stumbled to sit on the bed again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Alex." The man neared, setting his coffee down on a dresser.

"You know my name?" Owen blinked a few times completely dumbfounded. He never told anyone his first name.

"Yeah," he said softly. He sighed then pursed his lips. "You don't know where you are, do you?"

"I don't even remember your name," Owen mumbled as he stared ahead at a patch of wall.