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Pres said.
    “I’m not going to refuse that.”
    He heard Ric shift on his seat and felt their knees come into contact. Pres made sure he didn’t jerk his leg away.
    “So it looks like you’re trying to wind down from a difficult week,” Ric said.
    Pres smirked at Ric’s weak attempt at small talk. “I guess you could say that. More so tiresome than difficult.”
    “Tiresome, huh? Not sleeping well, Prescott?” Ric asked, his voice now lower…softer.
    “Guess you could say that,” Pres replied as he picked up his fresh drink now back in front of him.
    “Sorry to hear that,” Ric replied cooly, his knee still touching his.
    “Are you now?”
    “No. But it’s the nice thing to say, right?” Ric chuckled.
    Pres laughed, too. “Say what you mean, Ric. I prefer the direct approach.” He smiled as he felt Ric shift a little more, their knees still touching, and then Ric was leaning closer. Pres found himself holding his breath.
    “All right then.You not sleeping well means that there’s no one in your bed making sure that you do. Which suits me just fine. How’s that for direct?” Ric asked, dangerously close to Pres’s cheek.
    Pres let the air whoosh out of his mouth at Ric’s statement. What am I getting myself into here? He found himself smiling and replied, “Better.”
    After a couple more rounds, Ric suggested they get more comfortable at one of the low tabletops in the far corner on the other side of the bar. It wasn’t complete seclusion, but it was just private enough that they didn’t worry about others eavesdropping. Pres lost himself in an easy give-and-take banter with Ric. The man was witty and funny…and they flirted the entire time. Pres was extremely relaxed several drinks later and immensely enjoying Ric’s company as he tried to explain to him why instant mashed potatoes from a box were not the same as homemade.
    “It’s faster and easier, and tastes just as good. I’ve gotten rave reviews on a few of my dishes, too, Chef Vaughan, and don’t get me started on how my Hungry-Man meals never have ice chunks in the middle…all evenly warmed,” Ric boasted.
    Pres had a hard time containing his laughter. Ric was like a breath of fresh air. Pres had been so bummed after leaving his parents’ house, and now he was sitting here with this awesome guy, and maybe even a new friend, wiping the tears from his eyes as he cracked up with each new joke Ric told.
    “Yeah, those dishes sound one of a kind, Ric,” Pres responded sarcastically.
    “Thank you very much. Now I can say that the most popular food critic on the East Coast endorses my easy mashed potatoes.”
    Pres paused with his drink halfway to his mouth and asked, “Wait. How did you know I was a food critic?”
    “I have my ways,” Ric responded slyly.
    Pres felt his face flush with heat. Ric’s voice had dropped two octaves lower. His scent was right up under his nose, and Pres had enough alcohol in him that his cock was no longer under his command. Last thing he wanted was to stand to leave and have a large bulge with a wet spot for all to see.
    Pres stumbled on his wording. “It—It’s not exactly top secret. I just didn’t know you knew who I was.”
    “Yeah, I know who you are, handsome,” Ric whispered against the shell of Pres’s ear.
    Oh fuck. Pres didn’t move, and neither did Ric. What am I doing? I have a girlfriend.
    “Um, I—I should get going now. I—I have an early morning tomorrow,” Pres stammered.
    “Didn’t mean to scare you off.” Ric pulled back.
    “No, it’s not that at all. I’m not scared,” Pres said a little too loudly and chastised himself for sounding like a first-date virgin.
    “You’re calling it a night at seven thirty?”
    Pres’s mouth kinda hung open at the realization of the early time. Shit, no one goes to bed at fucking seven thirty. “I just got some work to finish up, and Josey needs to go out now.”
    “Sure, I understand. Well, it was nice talking to