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Abel’s favorite sports bar. Damn, this woman was so fucking perfect. He thought he would lose it when she leaned forward on the bike, her back arching slightly.
                  “Well, it’s a date then. Nine o’clock.” In a fluid motion, she hit the KILL switch, squeezed the clutch, put the bike in neutral, started it, and it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. If not for his jeans, he would’ve been fully erect right now, saluting her for the entire world to witness.
    Yes, it was a date. Kinda.
    But hopefully a whole lot more as well.
    *
    Lana: Nice meeting you yesterday. I don’t know if I should be admitting this, but I’m looking forward to Tuesday =)
    Wes: Me too.
    He smiled as he finished wiping down the kitchen counters. This was one of his favorite parts of the mating game, the thrill of anticipation during the early stages of getting to know a woman. She was gorgeous and she seemed to have a sense of humor and a sharp attitude, which he liked. What sort of things did they have in common? What did she like to do in her spare time? What kind of stuff was she into? And was she a screamer? A biter? A scratcher? His thoughts descended pretty quickly into the sexual realm, and warmth from an increase in blood flow soon spread across his groin. He needed to stop this. For now. Or the next few days with his parents would be torturous.
    But his intrigue about her had exploded exponentially overnight, rooted in his fascination of how contradictory she seemed. Lace and leather. Soft hands and a hard bike. Wes wanted to know so much more about her.
    Just as he turned on the dishwasher and started to slip into a daydream about what Lana’s legs looked like out of those leather pants and curved over his waist, two agitated voices flowed into an open window from outside. Mom and Dad. His stress level immediately heightened, pushing away the fantasies, and he blew out a breath. Nothing ruined a parents’ visit quite like parents visiting. He enjoyed being excited for them to get there more than when they were actually there.
                  “Beau, you only took that spot because I suggested the other one. It’s just what you do when it comes to things I say,” their mother said, her sharp tone stinging Wes’ ears.
                  “I saw that one first. Every choice I make isn’t about you, Sylvia. ” There was frustration in his father’s response, but he had saved the most acidity for his wife’s name, dumping all the vitriol at the end of the sentence.
                  “Every? Every , Beau? Try none of .”
                  “Yeah, well, at least none of my choices involve drinking entire bottles of wine in one sitting. I had just bought that Chardonnay, you know. And it wasn’t for you.”
                  “I know. You’d never buy anything for me, and that’s why I helped myself to it. And if I didn’t drink, how else would you be tolerable?”
                  “Maybe Dr. Brown should up your meds.”
                  “If he upped them any higher, you’d be getting a life insurance payout, and I suspect that’s something you’d enjoy.”
    Wes inferred they had probably argued the entire trip to California from Oahu; he wasn’t even sure they knew how to interact any other way. It was only a few days with them, he reminded himself. He missed Oahu a lot, but refereeing his parents was draining, and it messed with his psyche too much, so it was better to live in L.A. where they only visited him and Abel sparingly. Long distance ignorance was the best kind of bliss.
    The brothers exchanged serious, familiar glances. When they were kids, they would usually run into one of their bedrooms (Wes refused to live with Abel’s snoring) and talk to each other really loudly about comic books. And all these years later, Abel had seemed to reach some level of desensitization that was probably far worse