I flex this time, assuming the slightly-sideways pose I've seen at least fifty times in the span of the last three minutes and try again.
That's... better. Not perfect, but my pecs are not one with the rest of my chest this time, and there's even a trace of abs showing.
And because I know any second now I'll finally realize what a terrible, ridiculous idea this is, I send it to Hayden before I can talk myself out of it.
I spend the next few minutes pacing around my bedroom, staring at the screen like an absolute imbecile.
Well, then. I guess he hates it. Maybe I'm not jacked enough for him. Or not hairy enough. Or not—
"McClaren's, 7PM?"
I stop in my tracks and my eyes widen. Is that... it? This is the entire courting in gay world?
Not that I'm fucking trying to court him, Jesus.
Get a grip.
"Tonight?" I type back, correcting five typos in the single word, my fingers all over the place for some reason.
The response comes quicker this time.
"Preferably. There's someone I've been trying to get out of my system. You in or not?"
This time it's me who leaves him waiting. For ten whole minutes. Not because I don't know what to say. I typed the message right away. It's because the rest of my sanity keeps screaming at me not to do it.
Then, I press send anyway. "See you at 7."
Chapter 3
FOR THE FIRST time in my life, I wish it were colder outside. Because if it were colder, I could wear a hoodie, and if I were wearing a hoodie, I could just pull the hood up over my head, cover my face and march through that door incognito, hide in the shadows, watch Hayden get stood up, have exactly fifteen minutes of an identity crisis and then get back home and pretend nothing ever happened.
But it's fucking hell and a half outside and I'm wearing a muscle t-shirt that exposes more than it covers, my back cooled by a brick wall behind me in a narrow alley, staring at the bar's entrance. The only thing that matches my fantasy is that I'm indeed lurking in the shadow, and the only thing that's getting cold is my feet.
For fuck's sake.
It's not like I have anything to run away from. There's noeventabout to happen, no part for me to play here. Hayden is 'meeting Nicholas', or so he thinks, and me... Well, I'm just going to take a peek.
My legs are less steady than I'd like them to be as I make the short distance to the door at ten past seven. I'm strategic like that. It's late enough for Hayden to start getting an idea thatmaybe his date—or hookup, I guess—is a no-show, but not late enough for him to leave.
Cue me.
Just as I reach the door, I spot a large group emerge from around the corner, laughing their way toward the bar. Perfect. I pretend to make a phone call as I wait for them, and then enter right behind them, cosplaying as one of them, with my back hunched and shoulders slumped, trying to make myself invisible.
The joint is barely lit, thank fuck, and I immediately slip to the left, zigzagging my way between tall tables and promptly duck behind another group gathering by one of the walls, all the while pretending to scroll through my phone as if I have a purpose other than being de facto a crazy stalker.
Once I make sure I'm sufficiently blended into my bustling surroundings, I scan the crowd. Or rather, start to, because my eyes immediately land on Mr. Jawline, standing by the bar against the back wall, towering over most of the people in his vicinity, as though some deeper part of me has spotted him before my eyes ever could.
And what a fucking feast for the eyes he is. Yeah, I'm not afraid to say it. Well... think it. I'd never fucking say it out loud.
He's wearing a black button-up, with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing different kinds of sleeves, ones permanently carved into his skin with mostly black ink, and damn, why isthatkind of...hot?
Even with the barely-there lighting, I notice his face is no longer smooth, covered with a short stubble that somehow makes his jawline even sharper instead of washing it out.
Nothing about that man makes sense.
And maybe that's what I need to be right now—senseless. Thoughtless. Operating purely on some higher sense or intuition, or whatever it is that currently has my legs moving, eating up the floor and bringing me closer and closer to a man that seems to have a magnetic field of his own. It's not until I'm halfway there that Hayden runs a palm over his face and then turns his head, abruptly, his field of vision just about missing me as he glances toward the door.
My stomach doesthe thingand I duck behind the unsuspecting guy in front of me.
