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.

"It's Luke." If he sounded offended, Owen was too busy feeling like shit to notice. "If it makes you feel better, nothing really happened last night. After the bar, we made out in the taxi, and then we stumbled into my bedroom, before I realized that you were way too wasted to be fooling around. So, I let you sleep it off here."

"Oh." Owen lifted his head up to see more of Luke again besides his feet. Owen ran a hand through his bedhead. "Thank you."

"Let me, uh, go get you a glass of water," Luke said, before retreating from the room.

Owen closed his eyes and tried to remember last night. The kiss that sold him was clear, but everything else was a mess. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been blackout drunk. Years ago at least.

Luke came back, and this time Owen didn't jump. He took a sip of the water offered before setting it down. "I gotta go to the bathroom," Owen said, finding little point in feigning dignity now.

"First door on the left." Luke watched his guest like he was the strangest thing, and Owen didn't object because, well, he felt it.

"Thanks." Owen got up, steady this time, and headed to the bathroom. His hand found the light switch, but he instantly flipped it back off with a cringe. He could see well enough to take a whiz. After washing his hands, he pooled the water to splash over his face. It did nothing for his appearance, but it made him feel better for a split second. Owen pushed now-damp stray bangs back and actually felt sorry for Luke. He wasn't a pretty sight; pale, with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked, when he came back into the bedroom.

Owen took a few more gulps of water. "Yeah...look, Luke, um, I'm sorry about everything. This wasn't what you were looking for. My girlfriend and I recently broke up, and I've been a mess over some other things. And—what?"

Luke seemed lost, like he was the one who woke up in a stranger's place. "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah...but like I said, we broke up so? Oh!" Owen's voice spiked a bit too high for his ears. "You thought I was gay. Sorry again, I guess? Look, uh, I should go."

Owen stood up, fighting off any feeling his hangover was going to throw at him. He checked his wallet to make sure he could get home before glancing around for his leather jacket.

"The rest of your stuff is in the living room," Luke said.

"Thank you." The words had started to lose their meaning. Owen headed for the living room without help. He was shrugging his jacket on when Luke came in. The couch he found it on looked like it cost more than what Owen's rent.

"Are you sure you are going to be okay? You could stay until you're not hungover."

Crawling back into bed, even a stranger's, sounded so good. "Luke, um." He was trying to say his name enough that he wouldn't ever forget it again. But couldn't quite manage to look him in the eyes again. "You're a dynamite kisser, and maybe if I didn't make this the most awkward moment of my life it could have been a thing. But all I really want right now is to get in a taxi and go home."

"Are you sure? You don't even know what part of town you're in."

"Honestly, I would rather pass out on the subway right now than be here." He winced. That sounded harsh.

Owen checked for a reassuring rattle of his keys as he moved to the front door. He fumbled with the lock for a second before getting it. "Um, thank you again, and your place is really nice by the way." Owen paused at the door deciding if that's all he wanted to say. With a nod, he made a beeline to the elevator.

The ride down felt like it took forever under the bright elevator lights, but once he was on street level, he missed that little silent box. The city was too awake, too full of everything. At the first trash can he saw, he stopped and emptied his stomach.

Owen wiped his mouth and resisted the urge to collapse. The nearest taxi ignored him, likely a witness to his horrid display, but he was able to hail another and tune out the world on the ride home.

The next day, Emily invited Neal and Owen out. He wasn't going to agree, but Emily insisted, citing that this was her first night out without the baby.

With a lethal amount of mirth, Emily sat down at their usual booth near the bar, not caring for a second that the waitress forgot to wipe it. Wordlessly, she pulled out a napkin and wet it down with the water provided.

It wasn't long before the waitress came back and awkwardly took over. She pulled on a brighter smile. "What can I get you, tonight?"

"We are going to share the house pizza," Neal said, "And can I get a rum and coke."

The waitress nodded and glanced over to Emily, who ordered a lemon drop, and finally over to Owen.

"Nothing for me, thanks," he said.

"Not even a beer?" Emily asked, "It's on me."

"I'm sure."

The waitress left, but the comment about not wanting to drink tonight lead to another, and another, until Owen just backed up far enough to tell them everything he hadn't. From Amilia's death, to the break-up with Andreah, and how he still felt a bit hungover after the night with Luke.

"Geez, and I thought the baby poop made my month pretty shitty," Emily said.

Owen hadn't realized how long he had been taking until he noticed that drink Emily was babying as half gone. Neal, however, was still stuck on something Owen said earlier.

"Are you having a gay crisis?" Neal asked.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not having a 'gay crisis' for god's sake. If I find someone attractive, something might happen. In my case, it's called bisexual." Owen paused, not meaning to say that out loud. But then again, he'd accidentally committed himself by mentioning Luke in the first place. He exhaled sharply before continuing. "Just lay the fuck off. I don't have the patience right now."

Owen pushed up to his feet, grabbing the smallest bill out of his wallet to cover his share. It was more than double what he owed for a pizza that hadn't come yet. He didn't care. All these tiny comments were getting to him. Owen grabbed his coat and stormed out.

Emily stared wide-eyed at the empty seat across from her. Slowly, she turned to Neal, who looked baffled. "You should go talk to him."

"Maybe he needs space, or got a taxi already," he nervously countered.

"Go," Emily said, and gave him a little push.

He gave her a quick glance before bolting for the door. "Owen, wait," Neal called, hoping his voice would carry.

But it didn't need too. Owen was standing outside with his back to the door as he fidgeted with something in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Neal blurted. "I didn't mean to offend you. You just—I'm so bad at this. What I really mean is that it was stupid of me to assume."

"It's fine." Owen turned to waved the comment off with a lit cigarette in his hand. "I've known. I just always—tried to just ignore it. But then in game, I see and feel what these bi characters do and I...relate. They make it seem okay." Owen took a long drag like he was done with this conversation. "Bet that all sounds pretty stupid, huh?"

"No, it doesn't." Neal bounced on his heels, but not because he wasn't taking the subject seriously. He had run out into the cold without his jacket. "I'm really glad you found someone who let you not to ignore a piece of yourself."