Drake and I couldn’t be more different if we tried. I’m the guy who’s the life of the party and he’s the one who makes sure everyone is safe and accounted for. He can’t sleep if a single beam of light or noise is in the room. Yet I have no curtains or blinds in mine and music always playing.
We’ve lived together since we were eleven years old and have accepted how the other one is, quirks and all. After spending so many years in a small room together growing up, I can’t fall asleep without him. More often than not, he wakes up with me in his bed and not once has he ever complained.
My eyes become heavy and I drift off.
* * *
I wake up slowly and stretch.
“Morning,” Drake says from next to me.
Rubbing my eyes, I grunt.
Drake chuckles. “Coffee’s on the warmer.”
Looking over at the nightstand, I smile. Like every morning or afternoon I wake up in here, there’s a cup of coffee on a warmer waiting for me. Another benefit from Drake knowing me better than anyone else. He knows I’m barely human before consuming twelve ounces of brew.
Sitting up, I reach for the cup and take a sip. “What are you working on?”
“I’m looking at properties in Vegas,” he admits quietly.
“Anything good?”
“Eh.” He shrugs.
I study his face, knowing something is bothering him. “What is it?”
Drake tosses his phone onto the bed as he stares off into space. His tongue ring pops out and he runs it along his top lip as he thinks. I track the movement and can’t help but remember what it feels like against my skin.
“Do you think Vegas is the right call?” he asks, turning toward me.
It’s been too long,I think, adjusting my hard dick.
Shaking my head, I clear the wayward thoughts. “I haven’t had enough coffee, break it down for me,” I say as I take a drink.
“Do you think Vegas is the right city for us to open a club?”
“We decided to open one in the cities we’re all from,” I remind him.
Drake nods. “I know, but with everything I’ve been looking at, I feel like it might not be the best option. If we did go with Vegas, we would be better off going the casino and hotel route, and that’s not what we want.”
“Okay, where do you want to open it instead? Miami?” I ask, playing along.
“Miami would work. The party scene is great,” he admits.
“But…”
“What about New York?” he asks after a beat.
I shake my head. “Yeah, New York would go over well for the club, but the party would need to stay in Vegas. It’s already established there, but Drake,” I say, getting his attention. “As much as I hate to say this, we can’t make business decisions because of a girl.”
Drake groans. “I know.”
“We haven’t even met her,” I reluctantly admit.
“I know, trust me, I fucking know,” he grunts as he runs his hands through his dark hair.
We fall silent as I drink my coffee, both lost in our own thoughts.
