In the Distance (7 page)

Trevor leaned in to whisper in my ear, his knee gently pressing against mine, “Thanks for coming out to celebrate with me tonight.”

I was trying to come up with a casual, funny reply when I turned to face him, immediately losing my train of thought. I’d spent so many years blending into the background, looking anywhere but into someone’s eyes, just in case they saw the real me lurking behind the “normal” facade I’d perfected. But Trevor’s eyes, light brown with a hint of caramel that bled into mahogany, were so expressive and warm, I didn’t want to look away. I found myself simply nodding instead of delivering the witty retort I’d plan to make. He chuckled and turned back to face the band, softly tapping his foot to the beat of the music. With each tap, his knee brushed against mine, making it impossible for me to concentrate on anything except for the sudden tightness in my jeans.

I was just about to make up an excuse to go to the bathroom to get myself under control when Trevor’s leg stilled, followed by a soft moan, just barely audible over the music. His eyes were closed, an expression of ecstasy on his face. If my jeans had felt tight from just his knee brushing against mine, they were absolutely cutting off my circulation now in response to the pornographic sounds and expressions he was making. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the sensuous curve of his mouth twisted in pleasure around the fork.

“You’ve got to try this.”

As I struggled to breathe, I could tell, even with my eyes closed, that he’d shifted closer to me. I tried to ignore it—ignore the way I wanted to lean into him even though I was mortified by the thought of him knowing just how aroused I was—when I couldn’t stand it anymore. I finally opened my eyes and turned toward him only to find him smirking at me, a fork filled with a bite of bread pudding poised near my lips. As if challenging me, Trevor quirked up an eyebrow and slowly moved the fork closer to my mouth.

I could do this. It was only dessert. And if I’d learned anything about Trevor from listening to Jamie over the past year, it was that Trevor liked to flirt. If it moved and breathed? Trevor would flirt with it. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the kind of person he was. Even though it stung, it helped to know Trevor would have done this with anyone he went out to dinner with.

A little deflated but unwilling to back down, I held his gaze and opened my mouth as I leaned closer to the fork. The moment the dessert hit my tongue, I closed my eyes and moaned. The bread was both dense and silky, with the perfect combination of sugar and cream. Trevor watched me the entire time, his eyes only drifting down to my lips after I’d swallowed the last little bit and licked my lips to get all the remaining chocolate sauce off them. I picked up the spare fork resting on the side of the dessert plate and scooped up my own bite as I turned my attention back to the jazz band.

I’m not sure how long we sat there, sharing the bread pudding as the music swelled around us. When our forks finally scraped against the clean plate, I realized this had been one of the best meals I’d had in a long time. I had just turned around to thank Trevor for the dinner when I saw him slip his credit card into the bill folder. He’d said all along dinner was his treat, but I couldn’t help the sick feeling in my stomach. Once he’d signed the check and closed the bill folder, I leaned in and mumbled about being exhausted and needing to get home.

He paused for a moment, a look of confusion on his face, but then he nodded and pushed back from the table. We walked out of the restaurant and to the car in absolute silence. Thank God he turned on the radio once we got in the car, because I really didn’t think I’d be able to manage a coherent sentence, let alone a conversation with him.

By the time we reached my apartment, I was ready to bolt from the car. But before I did, I took a deep breath and looked at him. “Thanks for tonight and congratulations on everything with Natalie. I’m sorry I’m not better company, but I guess working all those doubles along with my final exams is finally catching up to me.”

I’d turned to leave, but a warm hand gently grasped my forearm.

Reluctantly, I looked back at him. Even in the dim light of the car, he was breathtakingly handsome. He leaned closer, his hand still on my arm, and pulled me closer to him. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been quiet since we finished dessert.”

I shook my head, trying to get the words out so I could just get out of the car and away from how good he smelled. “I’m good. Really. Just tired.”

He studied my face, looking for something to tell him what was going on, but I didn’t offer anything more. When I thought he was finally going to release my arm, he surprised me by pulling me even closer, lips brushing my cheek as he whispered, “Thanks for spending tonight with me. And if I don’t get a chance to see you before I leave, Merry Christmas, Tyler.”

I should have turned toward him, giving him access to my lips instead of just my cheek. It was the moment I’d been fantasizing about all evening. With one simple gesture, Trevor had opened a door I should have been eager to walk through. Except I couldn’t. Instead, I froze. His breath against my cheek and neck. The musky, vanilla accents of his cologne mixing in with his natural masculine scent. The warmth of his hand as it bled straight through my clothing and seared me with a heat that had nothing to do with his body temperature and everything to do with how badly I wanted him.

He paused, and without another thought, I reached for the door handle and flew out of the car. It was a dick move. An immature, forever-sitting-at-the-kids’-table dick move, but I couldn’t stand being in the car one more minute.

With each step I took up the stairs, I went over the entire evening and came back to the same conclusion I’d had when I’d fled the car. Trevor was a flirt. I’d seen him in action enough times to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was a flirt. But for a moment, just a moment, I’d wanted all of it to be real. I’d wanted Trevor to actually want me there as a date and not just the poor kid who worked as a sous-chef for his best friend. Maybe it was shitty of me, but I wanted Trevor to ask me out because of me, not just as a stand-in warm body when Jamie wasn’t available. The closer I got to my apartment door, the heavier I felt. Because the truth was, as certain as I was that Trevor didn’t really want me, I still wanted him. Even though I knew I was just a charity case.

Chapter Ten

Trevor

What in the actual fuck just happened?

I sat in my car and watched Tyler disappear into his apartment building, completely lost by how badly I’d misjudged the situation. I’d had no expectations of anything more than dinner happening tonight. Ethan would call bullshit, but I hadn’t invited Tyler out so I could score some action in the front seat of my rental car. In fact, it was just the opposite. Sure, he wasn’t the most talkative guy I’d been around, but I was interested in the little he did say. And I hadn’t needed to perform or sell anything. Twice now we’d been out, and twice I’d been surprised how much I enjoyed just being around him.

“Fuck a damn duck and call me Fred.”

I slammed my head back against the headrest and scrubbed my hand over my face. “Goddamn it. Way to screw the pooch, Pratt.”

I was such a fucking idiot. I’d asked Tyler out to celebrate with me. Celebrate. That’s all. I’d railed on both Jamie and Ethan for even insinuating I’d put the moves on their sous-chef. And when all was said and done, what had I done? I’d fucked it all to hell, that’s what I’d done.

The night had started off rocky, but had gotten better after Tyler had realized I didn’t give a shit about his age. In fact, everything about him screamed older, rather than younger. So he wasn’t legal to drink? Big fucking deal. In my experience, that didn’t mean squat. I knew guys my age who didn’t have half as much of their shit together in comparison to Tyler. So, instead of taking a step back, I found myself wanting to scratch even deeper beneath the surface to find out what made Tyler tick. Once the jazz band had started playing and we were sitting side by side, it was next to impossible not to lean against him. Then the dessert came, and I’d just stopped thinking. All I could think when I first tasted that bread pudding was how much I wanted to watch his expression when he took his first bite. And holy fucking God, the way his lips wrapped around the tines of the fork? The way his head tipped back slightly as his eyes closed, slowly savoring the bite I’d fed him? And then that low guttural moan, so unlike anything I’d heard come out of his mouth since I’d first met him over a year ago? All I could think about from that moment on was getting that sound out of him again.

And so what had I done? I’d fucked it all up by going in for the kill with someone who either didn’t want to have anything to do with me sexually, or was scared off his fucking rocks that I really was the tramp Ethan had accused me of being. Either way, I’d fucked up.

I took one last look at his apartment and debated going up to explain, but what would I have said? “
Hey
,
Tyler.
Sorry I spooked you earlier.
I
promise I’m not a manwhore
,
but...
” But what? I really had intended to kiss him, and not just on the cheek. If he hadn’t pulled away, if he had asked me to come up, there’s no way in hell I would have said no in that moment. And that was exactly the reason why I had to pull away from the curb right now and get as far away from Tyler’s apartment as possible. I’d meant what I said at the restaurant; his age wasn’t a big deal to me. But couple our age difference with the fact he was the adopted brother of my best friend, and the wisest move was to walk away.

I had no idea where I was going, but I was wired after what had just happened and the thought of being trapped in a hotel room with too much time on my hands didn’t sound like a very enticing proposition. At the next stoplight, I pulled out my phone and searched for the nearest club. I needed a distraction and I wasn’t going to find it sitting in a hotel by myself. A few more taps narrowed down the club of choice in Capitol Hill and I entered the address in my maps app. The closer I got to the club, the more wound-up I felt. When it came into view, I all but leaped out of the car, tossing my keys to the valet jockey and palming the bouncer’s hand with a fifty as I breezed through the front doors.

I’d barely crossed the threshold when the music assaulted me. The heavy bass reverberated in my chest until my entire body was thrumming with the energy pulsating on the dance floor. The place was jam-packed. Just like in New York, there were guys dressed in leather harnesses and jeans, guys with bared chests and barely there shorts, chicks dressed in furry bras and boots, and one spectacularly dressed rainbow-clad unicorn twirling in the middle of the throng of sweaty bodies. One of the guys caught my attention and curled his fingers in a seductive come-hither move. He was shirtless, with tight, black leather pants that looked painted on. His dance partner had his back to me and seemed completely oblivious to the invitation I’d just been given, but it didn’t matter. I needed a few minutes, and a few drinks, under my belt before I joined the organized chaos on the dance floor, so I shook my head and turned my eyes from the dance floor.

As soon as I could, I signaled a waiter in silver boy shorts for a drink. A few minutes later I had a double whiskey neat in my hands. Before I could even say thank you, he winked and sashayed as he made his way around the perimeter of the club back to the bar. The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, helping my mind focus on the scene in front of me instead of the scene I’d left back at Tyler’s apartment.

No matter where I looked in the club, no matter how much I tried to concentrate on the pounding bass in my chest, I couldn’t get Tyler’s shocked expression out of my mind. I slammed back the rest of my drink, only pausing to scan the dance floor again. The blond hottie was nowhere to be seen, but there was a cute twink in a pair of low-slung denim shorts and a cropped shirt dancing on the far corner. Or the ginger two tables over. At this point, either one would do.

The waiter returned with my second drink but waved away the cash I held out to him, leaning in to shout over the music, “Already taken care of.” He gave me a parting wink, then disappeared back into the crowd.

A techno beat about saving a horse by riding a cowboy swelled through the building. The hoots and hollers coming from the dance floor as the bodies rocked back and forth was entertaining, verging on vaudevillian as a few enterprising couples took the lyrics a little too seriously. Even over the volume and bass resonating through the club, I could feel a warm body behind me before I even turned around, his heat seeping through my shirt even though he hadn’t touched me yet. A soft breath rippled over my neck. “It’s against the rules to sit on the sidelines all night.”

“Is it now? I guess I missed the list of dos and don’ts when I walked in.”

My admirer remained behind me, one of his hands finding my lower back and tracing along the top of my jeans. His fingers left a trail of raised goose bumps as they worked their way up my spine. It felt good to be desired. It felt even better to be touched.

“It’s right under the rule about the two-drink minimum. House rules also state you have to dance at least once or there’s an extra surcharge.”

His fingers trailed higher, lightly teasing as they skimmed back and forth along my shoulder blades. I casually picked up my new drink and drained half of it with one gulp. The tension I’d felt earlier began to loosen as the warmth of the whiskey spread through me.

“Lucky for me I brought enough to cover it.”

With his hand still on my shoulder, he walked around to face me, a fake pout on his lips and his golden brown eyes glittering seductively. “That would be a waste of perfectly good money and a perfectly willing dance partner.”

This close up, his bare chest was even more impressive than I’d thought when I’d glimpsed it across the crowded dance floor. In fact, the only thing he was lacking was the dance partner he’d been grinding against when he’d first crooked his finger at me. I let my eyes wander over his face and down his body, stopping to smirk at the already impressive bulge in his tight, black pants. He was the complete opposite of Tyler. Shorter by at least a few inches and stockier where Tyler was long and lean. There was nothing in him to remind me of the man I’d watched walk away earlier this evening.

I drained the last of my whiskey and set the glass on the table. He slid his hand down my arm and looped his fingers in my belt loop, dragging me onto the dance floor without ever breaking eye contact.

All at once we were surrounded by a mass of writhing bodies. His grip tightened on my jeans and he pulled me closer. His body against mine made me realize how starved I’d been for touch, any kind of touch. When our hips met, I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me. No more thoughts about Tyler. No more guilt about how I’d fucked tonight up. No more trying to justify my choices to Ethan and Jamie. There was nothing to think about except what was in front of me right here, right now.

I shuddered with pleasure as his lips danced across my neck, and without another thought, I surrendered myself to the warm body grinding against me.

* * *

With my shades firmly in place, I entered the café and scanned the tables for the familiar shock of blond hair.

My eight o’clock wake-up call had come too fucking soon on the heels of last night’s escapades. Derrick—at least I was pretty sure his name was Derrick—had kept a continuous round of drinks sent to us. After several shots and too many dances among the writhing sea of bodies, we found ourselves in one of the corners, lost to a different kind of beat. We’d gotten each other off, but as much as I’d wanted to drown out Tyler and everything else that preceded his frantic escape from my car, it was still there burning a hole in my head, no matter how hard Derrick stroked me. It was a poor excuse, since I’d still gotten off, but the thought of taking Derrick back to my hotel after the night I’d had with Tyler seemed cheap. Cheaper than what I’d wanted, anyway. I’d left the club in a cab, too drunk to even contemplate driving back to the hotel, and had passed out immediately upon entering my room. I probably would still be asleep if the wake-up call hadn’t jolted me awake an hour ago.

Only Jamie could have fucked with my conscience enough for me to drag my hungover ass out of that bed and retrieve the damn rental car from the club, all in enough time to make our scheduled breakfast date. I finally spotted him at a table against the back wall, his head bent down over the menu, seemingly absorbed by what he found in it.

I slid into the chair across from him and snagged his coffee, taking a sip and then immediately regretting my decision.

“How you drink this crap, I’ll never know.”

Jamie zeroed in on the coffee mug still in my hand.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, you know.”

I pushed the coffee back toward him and picked up his water glass instead. The cold water felt like heaven on my throat after the whiskey from last night. Or maybe from having to shout over the music at the club. Or the incessant groaning that came after we left the dance floor. I took another big swig before pushing that back toward him, too.

“Trust me, I’d never beg for cream and sugar with just a hint of coffee.”

“Okay, thieves can’t be choosers, and keep your hands off my coffee. I finally have it doctored just the way I like it.”

Once our waiter had left with our orders, Jamie looked me up and down, narrowing his eyes as he zeroed in on the left side of my neck. Instinctively, I reached up to brush away whatever was there, but he leaned forward and caught my hand, not so subtly peeling the neck of my turtleneck down.

In a low voice, Jamie asked, “Wanna tell me how your night went before I make any assumptions and leave right now?”

I leaned away from his hand, and reached to flip my turtleneck back up. “It’s not what you think.”

He lifted his eyes from my neck, but his expression hadn’t changed. “Really, Trev? Because what I think I saw was a big-ass hickey on your neck. You promised you wouldn’t make any moves on him.”

Him? Tyler. Neither of us had to say his name, because we both knew who Jamie thought the mark had come from. I scrubbed my hand down my face and snatched his coffee again, wincing as the syrupy sweetness invaded every taste bud I had left after last night.

When I’d drained half the cup, I set it down and sighed. “Again. It’s not what you think. We went to Dizzy’s and had some kick-ass Cajun food, ate some dessert—” And I could still remember Tyler’s face when I fed it to him, dammit, “—listened to some jazz, and then I took Tyler home, like the Boy Scout I am. This—” I waved my hand near the vicinity of the mark, “—came later. Much later.”

He sat back against the wall. “Do I want to know the details?”

I wasn’t in the mood to dish all the details about how badly I’d fucked up with Tyler, or how much I’d needed to distract myself afterward. Deep down I trusted Jamie to understand, but I needed to wrap my own head around what I wanted to do about Tyler before rambling on to Jamie about him.

So I did what I always did when shit got too intense. I plastered on my trademark smirk and went with my best defense. Diversion. “Well, that depends. Would you rather hear about how I worked up a sweat dancing at the club
after
I dropped Tyler off, or the sweat I worked up after I left the dance floor?”

When I saw him grimace and shake his head, I knew I was off the hook. “Yeah, no. I’d rather you keep those details to yourself, thank you very much.”

“You sure? I could describe the waiters’ skimpy, silver boy shorts to you, instead. I can even give you the address in case you want to check the club out for yourself.”

Jamie raised his hands in surrender. “Positive. Ethan wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that, cute boy shorts or not. So yeah, I’m sure.”

“Speaking of waiters.” I leaned back as our food was set on the table. Jamie’s vegetable hash looked good, but I wasn’t a fan of ricotta so I’d given it a pass when I’d looked over the menu. I’d settled on the breakfast panini with a side of sliced avocado. My stomach grumbled just looking at it. Whether it was from the drinking, the dancing or the after-hours extracurricular activities, I couldn’t stuff my face fast enough. I looked up briefly when I heard Jamie’s chuckle, then flipped him off without ever taking my hands off the sandwich in front of me.