COPE MURPHY
He fits right in with my friends.
When we were getting out of my truck earlier, I could tell Xander was nervous. Which I can understand. It’s intimidating going to a place where everybody knows everyone except for you, but I knew he had nothing to worry about.
About a half an hour ago, Shooter and I decided it would be a good idea to set up a beer pong table, because why not play drinking games like we’re a bunch of frat boys? So, it’s currently Xander and me against Shooter and Sterling, and it’s neck and neck. A nineties country playlist pulses through the giant speaker Conrad has hooked up out here, and the sun is well on its way to setting. Thankfully, the lights from the outside of the barn are bright enough to illuminate the beer pong table once it eventually gets fully dark.
It's our turn, and Xander tosses the ping-pong ball. It dunks right into one of their cups, Shooter immediately groaning, like the sore loser he is, while Xander and I throw our hands up and cheer, turning to bump our chests together. Which only ends up making us laugh.
Shooter downs the beer, setting the can down, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he narrows his eyes on Xander. “You’re a little too good for my liking, fucker.”
Xander throws back a laugh before putting on a serious face. “Uh, sorry?”
“Yeah, you better be sorry,” Shooter drawls, turning to point a finger at me. “Your little boy next door is on my shit list.”
Sterling and I can’t hold back our laughter even if we tried. One look at Xander, and it’s obvious he doesn’t know if Shooter is serious or not. The confusion furrowing his brow as he looks at me and mouths,Boy next door?is comical.
Thankfully, Sterling pulls himself together far quicker than I do. “Don’t listen to him. Shooter has always, and will always be, the world’s biggest sore loser there is. He doesn’t actually mean anything he babbles off when he’s getting his ass kicked.”
Xander throws a glance at me, and I’m still chuckling, but I nod in a way that I hope’s reassuring. The game continues, throw for throw, and we’re tied right up until the end when Shooter somehow pulls some magic out of his ass and takes the game. He’s, of course, gloating like a motherfucker. He comes over and shakes both of our hands like a giant tool.
“Forgive everything I said before, boy next door. You’re cool, especially when you lose.”
“Uh, you too,” Xander replies back to him, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in a laugh.
I bump Xander’s arm with my elbow. “C’mon, grab us another couple beers, and we’ll go over here. You mind if I smoke?”
This is the first social setting we’ve hung out in together, so it’s really the first time I’ve been in a position where I want to smoke, and I’m not sure how he feels about that. I know he smokes weed, but still, cigarette smoke is different for some people.
He shakes his head, gaze meeting mine as he hands me an unopened, ice-cold beer. “Nah, I don’t mind.”
A quick glance around the area, and I find Colt, Jessie, Daisy, and Whit all sitting around the fire. They look to be in a pretty intense conversation. Conrad’s chatting with Clementine over by the front porch, and who the hell knows where Shooter and Sterling went. Probably up to Sterling’s barn loft to fuck, if I had to guess.
I drop the tailgate to my truck, and we hop up and sit in the bed near the front, our backs up against the cab. Cracking the beers, we both take a sip before I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out my pack of smokes. At the same time, Xander reaches into his zip-up pocket and pulls out a rectangular tin can before shooting a look at me.
“Would you be bothered if I smoked too?”
A stray strand of black hair hangs over his forehead, covering one of his brows. The urge to push it out of his face is strong, similar to when we were horseback riding. It takes me by just as much surprise as it did the first time.
“No, not at all,” I rasp. Placing the cigarette between my lips, I bring the lighter up to the end and light it. Inhaling deeply, I let the smoke fill my lungs. I offer Xander my lighter, but he gives me a quick shake of his head as he holds up his own. My head drops back onto the back window as my gaze lifts to the sky. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but based on the flame burning bright in my periphery, he’s lighting up his joint. Blowing out the smoke, the sour, earthy scent of the marijuana wafts around me. “Thanks for inviting me. Your friends are nice.”
“Yeah, they are,” I agree, taking another drag. “Think they like you.”
“Well, look at me,” he teases. “How could they not?”
We both laugh, and when I glance over at him, gaze locking onto his icy blues, this fluttering feeling dances through my lower stomach. The type of feeling you get when you get to the very top of a rollercoaster and you’re beginning your descent. Or like when I bust out of the chute that very first time of the season. I’ve always chalked it up to a feeling of euphoria…but why would I be feeling euphoria with Xander’s eyes on mine?
“I think your friends and this backwoods party are the stuff country musicians sing about,” Xander says with a chuckle. “It’s feeling veryDown on the Farm.”
My shoulders shake as I let my head fall back onto the truck window, my hand coming up to cover my face and the laughter I can’t hold back at the Tim McGraw comparison he just threw at me.
“You’re laughing like I’m wrong.”
“No, it’s pretty spot on, actually,” I admit. “I’m laughing because a country music reference is about the last thing I expected from you.”
Xander gasps, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Are you stereotyping me based on my appearance?”
