He shrugs. “Can’t complain. Shocked to see you here, though. What’s that about?”
“Missing home,” I respond, but I can’t even keep a straight face as I say it, and we both bust out laughing.
“Yeah right. And Hell froze over.”
Our server steps up to the table, setting down a couple of waters. “Evening, fellas. Anything I can get you to drink?”
Looking over at Chevy, I ask, “Beer?”
When he nods, I glance back over at the woman with a smile. “Pitcher of Bud Light, please.”
“You got it. Any food?”
“Let’s do a tray of them nacho tater tots. Thank you.”
“You bet.” She sets down two straws for the waters. “I’ll be right back with the pitcher.”
We watch her leave before returning our attention to each other.
“What’s new in Nevada?” he asks before taking a sip of his water.
“Not a whole lot. Just working at the shop.”
“Dating anyone?” Chevy was one of the first people I came out to when I was a teenager. He’s as straight as uncooked spaghetti noodles, but he’s one of the most open-minded, caring people I’ve ever met. He never once looked at me with judgement or disgust.
“Nah. You know me.” I laugh as the server drops off the pitcher and two chilled glasses. “What about you? Seeing anyone serious?”
“Actually, I am,” he replies with a knowing smirk plastered on his face. “Been about six or seven months now.”
“Damn, how long has it been since we’ve talked?”
“Too damn long, my friend.”
We get lost in conversation for a while. He tells me about the middle school teacher he’s been dating, and how they met while hiking several months back. She’s originally from the south and moved to Utah a little over a year ago with her best friend.
A couple of pitchers and an entire plate of nachos later, we’re kicked back, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company, when movement to my left snags my attention. Glancing over, it’s like a sucker punch to the gut as my gaze collides with familiar sage green eyes. All the air’s sucked out of the room as his eyes widen for a second before they narrow in irritation.
Rapping my knuckles on the table, not bothering to even look over at Chevy, I announce, “I’ll be right back.”
With arms crossed tightly across his chest, Segan watches me with vexation as I slide out of the booth and cross the room, closing the distance between us. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt that looks two sizes too big. White splatter that looks like paint covers his clothes and the pair of Nike Airs on his feet that’ve seen better days.
“What the fuck…?” His voice is as rough and filled with as much malice as I remember from last time.
“Nice to see you, too, Segan,” I quip, glancing for the first time at the guy beside him. He’s also covered in white splatter. “Had some business to attend to. How you been?”
A laugh that’s lacking any humor bubbles out of him. Being in close proximity, it’s easy to see how rundown he looks. It’s alarming. The bags under his eyes are dark and pronounced, his clavicle protruding much more than I remember, and he’s pale—not an ounce of color to brighten up his face.
What the hell have you been up to, Segan?
“Business?” he spits out. “You never come back here, so I find that hard to believe.”
“Can I talk to you?” Glancing over at his friend, I add, “Alone.”
The guy slaps Segan on the back. “I’m gonna get a drink and find a seat. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Outside,” Segan grits out, spinning on his heel toward the door, leaving me with no choice but to follow.
The chilly air greets us. The sky is clear, but it’s colder than what I’m used to being in Nevada. I pull my pack of Marlboros out of my pocket, grabbing two and placing them between my teeth and lighting them. I hand one to Segan as I take a drag of mine. The nicotine fills my lungs, and it isn’t until right now that I realize how nervous I feel being here with him.
