Trouble & the Wallflower (3 page)

Davy was halfway finished with his drink, and the DJ had put on a party-anthem song that had Gavin and his friends fist-pumping and bouncing around like idiots. Davy couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed by it, because they were just having fun. There was nothing pretentious about them. They were just being the kind of guys Davy wished he could be. But there weren’t enough vodka-cranberries in the world. His drink almost gone, he considered having just one more, but he noticed one of the go-go boys had made his way to Gavin. The go-go boy had a million-dollar smile, tight abs, and a thick ass. Davy totally didn’t blame Gavin when he started dry-humping the guy in front of everyone. He guessed he didn’t really blame him for playing tonsil hockey with him, either. But it made Davy’s buzz fly right out the window.

He felt like a dumbass. This just confirmed why Gavin was a bad bet anyway. He went back over to the bar and handed the bartender his empty glass. The bartender gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand with an expression that looked a lot like
I told you so
. Fucker. “Thanks for the drink.” Davy knew it didn’t even register over the music, but the guy nodded anyway. Davy handed Mr. Sympathy a tip that he tried to refuse, but when he saw how miserable Davy was, he mouthed a
thank you
and accepted it with a smile.

Davy made his way to the stairs but came up short when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and died a little inside when he saw it was one of Gavin’s friends. The guy’s smile was welcoming and kind, excited even. If Davy remembered right, this was Sean. He was a cute Latino with wavy black hair and a cinnamon complexion, and he was easily the thinnest of them all. But he was always nice, so Davy couldn’t be a dick and tell him to fuck off.

Sean pointed at him enthusiastically. “Oh my God! I knew it was you! Davy, right?”

Davy nodded. “Yep. It’s me. Sean?”

“Right! Guess we’re hard to forget when we drag that idiot around, eh?”

Davy’s buzz was obviously not totally gone because he smiled openly at that.

Another of Gavin’s friends walked up, but Davy couldn’t remember this guy’s name, so he just said, “How’s it going, chocolate soda?”

The guy held out his fist for a bump. “It’s Mason.”

Davy awkwardly bumped fists with Mason, and Sean said, “Holy balls! Gav is gonna shit when he sees you!”

Davy blanched. “Uh. I was just headed out.”

Sean and Mason laughed.

“You can’t leave without letting him know you’re here, man. It’ll be awesome. He’ll swoon all night and we will give him so much shit,” Mason said.

Davy shook his head. He couldn’t get the “hell, no” out, so that would have to suffice.

“Davy, you have to! You’d really be doing
us
a favor.”

Sean looked like a kid who was plotting against his older brother. Davy looked over their shoulders. The go-go boy and Gavin were still sucking face, and the go-go boy’s Andrew Christians were doing nothing to hide his hard-on. The hard-on Gavin had his hand on.

“I think he’s doing just fine.” Davy knew it was bitchy, but he was done with this and just wanted to go home. It was his turn to give the I-told-you-so look when Sean and Mason saw what Gavin was doing on the dance floor.

They both wore grimaces when they turned back to him.

“I’m outta here.” He bolted before either of them could stop him. He thought he heard them call for him, but he didn’t turn back. He just kept on down the stairs and out of the club. He’d embarrassed himself enough for one night.

G
AVIN
CHECKED
himself in the mirror of the club bathroom and set himself to rights. He was just thankful he hadn’t lost his favorite beanie this time. It was almost tradition now. He’d gotten to the point where he’d bought several that looked alike because every time he went out dancing these days he’d leave it in someone’s car, lose it while he was dancing, or a trick would walk off with it.

Speaking of hookups, tonight’s boy had been pretty special. He had a pleasant ache in his ass that’d be reminding him of how
talented
the dancer boy—Juan?—had been. He couldn’t help but smirk at himself in the mirror. Add the go-go boys to the long list of reasons Gavin would never miss his mother’s home in Maine. But he sure as hell didn’t want to think about any of that right now. That’d be a good way to fuck up the pleasant buzz he had from alcohol and good sex.

As he exited the club, the balmy spring air whipped his face, and he breathed in the smells coming from the ubiquitous hot-dog stands. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the soothing burn of nicotine, the cherry on the top of his buzz. He felt loose and relaxed as he watched the drunk gays and their hags stumble around in slutty clothes as they caught cabs and town cars or made their way to one of the many options for food to soak up the alcohol they’d consumed. He was soothed by the energy of all of the people out on the streets. He’d never felt as at home as he did on a Saturday night when downtown was lit up and everyone was laughing and happy after a night out, buzzing with life even at 2:00 a.m.

He pulled his phone out to dial a cab, but a message from Sean telling him to meet them at their favorite after-hours pizza place caught his attention. Sean had sent it only ten minutes earlier, so he hadn’t missed them and there was a slice of pesto pizza calling his name.

When Gavin sat down at their booth in the pizza place they always ate at after hitting the club, Sean’s first words to him were “Dude, you are
such
an idiot.” Mason had a bite of pizza in his mouth, but he spoke an emphatic “uh-huh” around the half-masticated glob of pesto and crust. The other guys, Nate and Devon, shrugged as though they were as clueless as Gavin. He reared back.

“What the hell?” His friends looked serious. He was expecting the usual ragging about being a slut, but this was new.

“You have no idea, Gav.” Mason shook his head and took another huge bite of his pizza.

Gavin was bemused every time Mason stuffed his face when he was drunk. Ah, the joys of trying to sober the fuck up.

“What are you guys talking about?” Gavin snatched a breadstick off Nate’s plate. “If it’s because he was a go-go boy, that’s rude. He has to make a living too.”

“We’re not talking about your slutty little friend. We’re talking about your shy little crush.” Sean leveled his gaze at Gavin.

Gavin drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Your slutty ways have caught up with you, Gavvy-kins,” Mason said, shaking his head in… was that disgust?

“What the fuck, guys? Harsh much?” He’d never admit they were really hurting his feelings. Could be because he knew what they said was the truth. He couldn’t help thinking bitterly that he’d gotten his reputation as a total slut honestly. Sean smacked him on the back of his head and he flinched away with an “ouch!”

“You know that ‘piece’ you’ve been chasing, aka crushing on
hardcore? The guy from Bart’s?”

Gavin couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the blond jock he’d been playing cat and mouse with for months now. “Yeah. Soda Shop Davy?”

All the guys snorted collectively and Mason shook his head sorrowfully.

“Yes. The one and the same,” Sean said.

“Why?” He wished they’d just spit it out already. He started thinking of blond hair, blue eyes, and a firm jaw with a baby face and lickable pink lips. And don’t forget those biceps that were just right. Not too beefy but enough to show the guy did some working out.

Sean frowned at Gavin, wiping the smile from his face. “You blew your chance officially.”

“Spit it out!” Nate and Gavin said in unison.

“I’m confused” was all Devon could manage to say through his alcohol-induced haze.

Sean’s look at Devon was not polite. “You’re always confused. The alcohol just renders you completely worthless.”

“I know, right!” Devon laughed as though he’d just said the funniest thing ever.

Everyone stared at him for a minute.

“Anyway,” Gavin said, returning all attention to Sean and Mason.

“He was at the club tonight, Gavin,” Mason said.

Gavin perked up. “Oh, shit! No way! Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“Well, we tried to get him to come talk to you, but he’d unfortunately already seen you groping thong-boy’s schlong in front of the whole world,” Sean said sardonically.

Nate gave a groan of sympathy as Gavin dropped his head with a thud on the table. “I’d say that ship has officially sailed.”

“Shame, too. We’d noticed him earlier but didn’t know it was him. He was definitely working up the nerve to come holla at you.” Mason burped loudly as if that added something to the statement. “Way to fail.”

“Why me?” Gavin’s voice was muffled by the table.

“I’m sorry, Oh Slutty One. What was that?”

Leave it to Nate to goad the shit on. Devon just started giggling again. They all turned to stare at him for a quiet moment as he entertained himself in his corner of the booth.

“So what should I do?” Gavin knew he sounded desperate, but that was one piece of ass he’d been chasing far too long to see his chances vanish like this. If he was totally honest, the guy had almost become an obsession. It was those guileless blue eyes and that baby face he thought of before he fell asleep at night. He even saw them in his mind when other guys got him off. It was fucked up, but he
was
fucked up, so that made sense.

Sean patted Gavin’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you had one very small window here and you slammed that motherfucker good tonight.”

“On your dick. Hard. I’m surprised you didn’t feel it.”

“Thanks for the visual, Mase,” Gavin snapped. He was feeling sorry for himself, but he’d done this to himself.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He had to figure out a way to fix this. He needed one good go at Davy. He definitely needed to get that drug out of his system. Especially if chasing that ass had him this twisted up. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. “I’ll fix this.” He sounded much surer than he felt.

Everyone gave him skeptical smirks. Devon started laughing hysterically again.

Nate pointed at the cackling Devon. “What he said.”

G
AVIN
STUMBLED
upstairs into the kitchen the next morning. He had a fully functional kitchenette in his mother-in-law suite in the basement of his grandfather’s house, but the old man made better coffee. He poured himself a cup of the reviving nectar and sat down at the small table in the breakfast nook.

His grandfather looked up from his Sunday paper and immediately caught that something was amiss. “What’d you do?”

Gavin was mildly offended. “Why do you think I did something?”

“You look like you stuck your pecker in a blender, boy. I know you well enough to know that means you did something dumb.”

Gavin wanted to deny any wrongdoing, but he knew it’d be futile. His grandfather really did know him too well. In fact, Raymond Marshall was his best friend in the whole world. Had been since he was a young boy. So he would know.

“Come out with it. I want to finish this crossword before I’m in my grave.”

Gavin scowled. “Don’t joke like that, Ray.”

The old man laughed. Laughed! What the hell?

“Then don’t keep me waiting.”

Gavin gave his best put-upon sigh. “I fucked things up with this guy I’ve been after for a while.”

“Well, that’s no surprise with the way you go through ’em.”

“Hey!” Gavin puffed his chest up indignantly, but his grandfather gave him a significant stare that dared him to challenge the truth.

“What’d you do to the guy? It wasn’t another one of those ga-ga boys was it?”

“Go-go. It’s go-go, Ray.” Gavin had explained this enough times that he figured the old guy was just messing with him. He wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened. No explanation Gavin tried in his head made him sound good. But it wasn’t as if he’d cheated on the guy. Quite frankly, he was tired of being the butt of his friends’ jokes. They acted as though it was some big shame that he wasn’t afraid to get laid when nature called. He knew better. He was a man, after all. Not like he was as bad as his mom.
Am I?

“
Well?” Ray set his paper down and continued staring at Gavin. “Is this a whiskey conversation?”

“It’s not even noon!” Gavin couldn’t help but laugh. His grandfather called whiskey the truth serum. They’d had whiskey when it was time to talk about everything from his cancer prognosis to Gavin’s mom. Ray wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, he was just old-school. Cigars, whiskey, booze, and “fine tail” were all a part of enjoying life if he didn’t have much time left.

“Because you’ve never been drunk before noon.” Ray had a point there. He stood, groaning as he stretched old joints, and shuffled over to the cabinet where they kept the hard stuff. He returned to the table with two glasses and plopped them down along with a bottle of Jack.