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  Elijah laughed at him. “Oh, no? I saw you staring. What, you want to buy some weed?”

  Despite his dry throat, Lucas’s back straightened. He was no innocent, and he didn’t appreciate being treated like one. “Maybe I do.”

  “Is that so?” Elijah asked, his eyebrow rising. “I’ll sell you some.”

  Despite how little they had interacted, Lucas had seen enough of Elijah to have a bad impression of him. The guy seemed mean, and maybe bitter. He wasn’t as carefree and fun-loving as most of the other strippers.

  Elijah never attempted to joke around with the others. When he spoke, it was generally to complain. Lucas had the sense that he felt he was too good for this place. He, on the other hand, was grateful to even be here.

  “Yeah, I do want some,” he said, his voice louder. He was annoyed with the assumption that he wouldn’t want to smoke. People had all sorts of ideas about him because he was quiet. They thought he was a prude, or stuck up, or naïve. Wrong, wrong, and wrong!

  The amusement was visible on Elijah’s face. Lucas wanted to smack it off of him – not that he would ever do such a thing. “How much?” Elijah asked.

  How was that stuff even measured? Lucas had no idea. Now that he thought about it, did he even want the drug? He had heard enough bad things about pot to make it seem unappealing.

  “Give me ten bucks’ worth.”

  He had to repeat himself again, which made Elijah look smug. It was as if the guy could see through him and knew why he was doing this. He had just shown Elijah that he didn’t have the slightest idea how weed was bought or sold.

  “I can’t do that small of an amount,” Elijah said. “The lowest I can do is an eighth.”

  Lucas nodded as if he knew what an eighth was. “How much is that?”

  “Fifty.”

  Fifty? That was most of the money Lucas had made that night. He pursed his lips as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and counted out a wad of tips. His pride wouldn’t let him back out.

  He tamped down his resentment as he passed the money into Elijah’s hand. Who knew? It might be fun. Maybe he’d smoke it alone with his cat. Bjorn would never judge him for doing it, or for not doing it.

  As he gave Elijah the money, it occurred to him again how good-looking the guy was. He certainly saw what all the customers liked about him. Despite Elijah’s bad attitude, his face was absolutely perfect. His slight stubble gave him enough of an edge to make him even better.

  Lucas’s eyes slid along Elijah’s body. His arms were well developed, with elaborate sleeve tattoos accentuating the muscles. Lucas knew from memory that his chest and abs were equally buff. Elijah didn’t skip out on leg day, either. Lucas was quite familiar with the contours of his thighs, his calves, and the sculpted curve of his ass.

  Elijah didn’t move for a second after pocketing his money, and Lucas feared he would take it and go. Maybe Elijah was planning to take him for a ride. He probably knew Lucas wouldn’t protest the unfairness. He would keep as quiet as always even if he did get ripped off.

  At last Elijah reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie. Elijah’s eyes rested on Lucas as he reached out to take it. The drugs only took up a fraction of the plastic bag. His expression had to show his disappointment. Fifty bucks for this?

  While Lucas was ready to walk away, Elijah wasn’t done with him yet. “How exactly are you going to smoke this?” he asked.

  Lucas doubted if he would smoke it at all at this point. He should just take the weed and go. He could stick it in a drawer somewhere. He didn’t actually want to get high.

  At the moment, all he wanted was to get away from Elijah. This guy was too attractive to keep a clear mind around, and now he seemed to be playing mind games with Lucas. That made it impossible to know what to say. Lucas preferred by far how Elijah had ignored him before.

  “I’ll roll a joint,” he said with attempted bravado.

  Elijah almost laughed. “You have rolling papers?”

  “Well, I’ll use a… a bong.”

  “You’ve got a bong?” Elijah was definitely laughing at Lucas now.

  Lucas’s body tensed in reaction. He was perfectly capable of owning a bong. Even if he didn’t, how would Elijah know? “What do you care?”

  “You don’t,” Elijah said. “I can see it on your face. Why do you want to pretend that you do?”

  Called out, Lucas didn’t have an answer. He shrank back. All he wanted was to walk away, but Elijah would have seen him waiting at the bus stop. At this hour, the bus only came every thirty minutes.

  “It’s okay,” Elijah said, his lips curling up again. Lucas couldn’t have said if they were in a sneer or a smile. “I can smoke you up.”

  The cool breeze of the summer evening whipped over Lucas, and he shivered slightly. “What does that mean?”

  Elijah moved his hand, making his motorcycle rattle. “We can smoke it together.”

  *

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