“You know what I do when I’m afraid of saying something stupid?”
“What?” I ask.
“I purposefully say something really stupid right away to get it out of the way. If he laughs it off with me, then I know we can have a fun date, and I’m able to relax. If he’s weird about it, I make an excuse and get the hell out of there.”
My mouth falls open as I consider the sheer brazenness of that tactic. I push my glasses up my nose as they start to slip. He purposefully says something stupid knowing that someone else will hear it?
“That’s…wow, if I wasn’t sure I’d burst into flames with embarrassment, I’d totally try that.”
“Embrace the embarrassment,” he advises. “It’s never killed anyone.”
“That you know of,” I point out. “Thanks for the advice though.”
“No problem.” He finally releases my shoulder, and I sigh with relief.
Pax
I lean against the rough brick exterior of the arcade, waiting for Elijah. I thumb through my phone, looking back over our text exchange from the past week and smile. Little by little, he’s come out of his shell, and I’m curious to see what he’ll be like tonight. Without any alcohol in the mix and without a phone screen as a buffer, will he be back to shy, blushing Elijah, or will he be the Elijah who calls me an idiot while we argue?
He comes into view, headed down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself small so no one else on the street notices him. And it seems to be working as people shuffle past him without a second glance. How anyone could miss him is beyond me. He doesn’t look so different from last week, wearing another stylish blazer over a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is combed, unlike the morning I brought him breakfast, and I find myself missing the wildness of his curls when he was clearly just out of bed. I bet he looks incredible after a hard fuck. The thought hits me like a punch in the gut, stealing my breath for a few seconds before Elijah’s eyes meet mine, and I force myself to smile at him and pretend excitement isn’t stirring between my legs.
“Hey,” he greets nervously.
“Hey, Einstein, good to see you.”
He blinks at me with a hint of surprise in his eyes like he can’t believe it’s actually good to see him. My heart breaks a little that he feels that way, and I suddenly understand my brother’s fussing over his friend. There’s something about Elijah that makes you want to shield him from the big, bad world.
“How was your flight?” he asks as I shepherd him into the arcade.
“Eh.” I shrug. I typically fly twice a week so there’s not usually much to note unless there’s some sort of major crisis. “There was a hot flight attendant who flirted with me most of the flight.”
“Only you,” he mutters, shaking his head, and I laugh.
“Aw, jealous, little Nerdlet? Would it help if I told you it was a woman, and I wasn’t the least bit interested?”
“I wasn’t jealous,” he argues, but the tight set of his shoulders eases, but I decide to leave it alone.
“Ready to get your ass kicked at Pac-Man?” I ask, nodding toward the nearest machine.
“You wish,” he counters, darting for the game.
Elijah does in fact kick my ass at Pac-Man, but I get him on Space Invaders so I’m okay with it.
“So, no boyfriend. What’s the deal with that? Too busy being a genius or what?” I ask conversationally when we take a break from the games and sit down to order some greasy bar food.
The blush that creeps into Elijah’s cheeks makes the question one hundred percent worth it.
“I don’t…um…” He fiddles with the buttons on his blazer, looking anywhere except at me.
“Did I put my foot in my mouth? Theo said you were gay, was he not telling me the whole story? Are you ace, and I’m being totally obtuse right now or something?”
He finally looks at me and gives a sharp shake of his head. “No, I’m not ace or aro or anything; I just don’t date.”
“Why not?”
Elijah huffs out a humorless laugh. “People don’t make any sense. Like, there’s all these things you’re supposed to say or do to let someone know you’re interested, but nobody ever told me what those things were. And people lie, not just with their words but with their smiles and their eyes. They pretend to like you just so they can laugh about it behind your back or copy your homework.”
My heart breaks for him, his words hitting closer to home than I’d like to admit to myself.
“So, you’ve never…uh…dated?” I ask as delicately as I can manage. I’m sure it’s none of my business, but I find myself curious anyway.
“I just said I didn’t,” he answers, looking at me like I’m an idiot. Then, understanding dawns in his eyes. “You’re talking about sex now, right?”
I snort a laugh into my glass of soda I just lifted to my lips to drink. Reaching for my napkin, I mop it across my mouth. “Yes, I meant sex.”
“I’m a virgin,” he says matter of factly. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.”
“Didn’t say there was.”
“Oh please, I bet you’re the kind of guy who has a different beautiful man in his bed every weekend,” he accuses, a bite in his tone that I can almost mistake for jealousy.
“That’s not very polite. If I don’t judge you for not having sex, it’s not exactly fair for you to judge me for what goes on in my bedroom.”
He blushes again, a deeper pink this time that’s endlessly satisfying.
“You’re right, that’s not fair of me,” he agrees.
When he doesn’t go on, I lift my soda to my lips again and take a drink, now that I’m not at risk of snorting it through my nose.
“I could help you, if you wanted,” I offer casually.
“What do you mean?” That suspicious look is back in his eyes.
I shrug, not actually sure what I meant when the offer forced its way out of my mouth, bypassing my brain entirely. “If you wanted lessons on how to flirt or how to spot guys who are receptive to being picked up.”
“I’m certain I’m a lost cause,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“Waste my time? You think I consider hanging out at gay bars on Friday nights and flirting with cute men a waste of time?”
Elijah’s face falls a little, and his shoulders sag. “I’m sorry I was keeping you from that. I told you I didn’t need a pity friendship. Go, flirt, don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not worried about you, and this isn’t pity,” I argue. “I like hanging out with you, and I think it would be fun to go scope out guys together, but if you’re not interested, we can leave it at that.”
The waitress drops off our food, and we both dig in, leaving the conversation alone for now. I’d love to see Elijah let loose a little and find the confidence I’m sure is under his shy exterior, but I’m not going to force him.
We play games for a few more hours, each of us winning a few. Elijah grows more relaxed as time wears on until he’s the same laid back, sarcastic man I hung out with last weekend, just minus all the alcohol.
A yawn forces its way out of me, and I check the time, surprised to see we managed to nearly shut down the arcade.
“Oh wow, it’s late,” he says. “I should probably head home.” He bites his bottom lip, looking unsure of himself. If this was some random at a bar, I’d guess from his body language that he was trying to work up the courage to invite me back to his place. But this is Elijah.
He orders an Uber, and I wait with him. When the car pulls up to the curb, he gives me a shy smile and opens the back door to get in, stopping before he pulls the door all the way closed, he gives me that look full of nervousness and a spark of interest again. I bet it’s the exact same look he’d have if I had him pinned beneath me, naked and desperate. My cock shifts against my leg, hardening as my thoughts take a dive into the gutter without my permission.
�
��I’ll do it,” he says, and for a crazy second I think he can read my thoughts and is agreeing to the filthy things running through my mind.
“Do what?” I ask, my voice coming out huskier than intended.
“The flirting. You can teach me…if you really want, I mean.”
I blink and shake away the fog of debauchery clouding my brain. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
A slow smile spreads over his pretty pink lips, and he finally pulls the door closed behind him, giving me a little wave through the window before the car pulls away, leaving me horny and confused on a street corner in the middle of the night.
Chapter 6
Elijah
Pax: What are you wearing?
I read the text and then glance down at my clothes, wondering if there’s a certain dress code I’m not aware of for the bar he’s dragging me out to tonight to apparently teach me how to flirt. I’m absolutely positive I’m a lost cause, but if he wants to waste his time, I can play along for one night, I suppose.
Elijah: Pretty much the same thing I always wear—jeans, a red V-neck t-shirt, and a black blazer. Is that ok for this bar? I don’t really have much else. I guess I could skip the blazer?
Pax: No
Pax: I meant What are you wearing? ;)
I look down at myself again, trying to decipher his meaning. Is he asking about the brands of my clothes? Because seriously who knows that?
Elijah: I don’t understand
Pax: I’m flirting, Einstein
Elijah: OH!
Pax: Ok, let’s try this one more time…What are you wearing? ;)
Elijah: Um…I’m not sure what to say. If I’m not wearing something sexually suggestive do I lie? Or should I strip down to my boxers and then I wouldn’t be lying when I say I’m in my underwear?
Elijah: But also, is what I already told you ok for the bar tonight? I could figure something else out if it’s not.
Pax: You’re killing me, Nerdlet lol
Elijah: Sorry, I told you I was hopeless
Pax: You’re not hopeless, but we may need to work with your unique personality to develop a flirting style all your own
Elijah: *sigh* I’m hopeless
Pax: What you’re wearing sounds fine, I’ll pick you up in half an hour
Elijah: You don’t have to. I can take an Uber
Pax: It’s no trouble. I’ll see you soon
I can’t actually believe I agreed to this. After our night at the arcade, we texted all week again, and it was clear that Pax was taking this seriously. It seemed he spent all week trying to decide on exactly the right bar, texting me suggestions for opening lines when approaching someone I’m interested in, and detailing the kind of body language I should watch for, including YouTube videos for reference.
I almost told him to forget about the whole thing. It’s too much, too stressful, too pointless. I don’t need to be some smooth-talking Lothario, picking up guys in bars. Maybe I’ll die a virgin; I’m fine with that.
That’s a lie. I’m absolutely not fine with it, but it seems like a less painful alternative to actually trying to find someone to do those things with.
*****
It’s a different bar than we met at last time, but it’s more or less the same—music that’s just slightly too loud, lots of men in various states of intoxication flirting with each other, dim lighting. As far as I can tell, this is the general motif for all bars, plus or minus the gay parts.
“Want a drink?” Pax asks, his hand coming to rest on my lower back as he guides me through the crowd. I allow myself a single second of indulgence, pressing into his touch before moving forward.
“All right, but only one drink,” I agree, still sick at the memory of the hangover I had the last time.
“You got it,” he agrees with a hint of amusement. “Grab that table, and I’ll hit the bar to get us some drinks.”
I snag the table he pointed out and slide onto the tall stool. While I wait, I let my attention wander around the bar. The way everyone interacts and moves around each other is like an organized sort of chaos that fascinates me. I imagine them as elements, some of them crashing into each other to create chemical reactions or, if they’re lucky, to become something totally new and different than they were before.
A man approaches the table with a wolfish grin, and I offer a polite smile in return.
“Hi,” he says as soon as he reaches me.
“Um, hi. Sorry, did you want this table? I’m waiting for a friend, but I’m sure we can share if you want.”
His eyebrows scrunch together for a second, and then he lets out a loud laugh. I recoil at the sound, my stomach tightening. I said something stupid, and now he’s laughing at me. It’s not like when I was confused about Pax’s text earlier; this man isn’t laughing with me like Pax was.
“I don’t give a fuck about the table, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say. Why is he here? Then it hits me. “Oh.”
“The person you waiting for, is he your boyfriend?” The man leans over the table, his eyes devouring me shamelessly. He’s not bad looking, all things considered, but something about him makes me feel dirty just having his eyes on me. I shudder at the thought of more than his eyes on me.
“Um…yes,” I lie, and his face falls.
“Bummer. If that changes, find me later.” He gives me a wink and then saunters away. I sag with relief, letting out a long breath.
“What happened? He seemed interested.” Pax appears in an instant as if materializing out of thin air. I startle and then glare at him.
“Were you watching me?”
He shrugs and sets my drink down in front of me, sliding onto the stool opposite me.
“I was on my way back, and I noticed him approaching you. I didn’t want to cock block.”
“He wasn’t my type,” I answer, taking a sip of my drink and making a surprised noise when the sweet concoction hits my tongue. I have no clue what it is, but it tastes a lot better than whatever I got last time.
“What is your type then? I need details if I’m going to help you scope.”
“I don’t know.” I drag the pad of my index finger along the rim of the glass.
“Come on, Einstein, you must know what turns your crank. Don’t be shy,” he encourages.
My eyes drag over Pax in a way I hope is inconspicuous. When I first started crushing on him what feels like a lifetime ago, he wasn’t the man he is today. Back then, his preferred wardrobe seemed to be shirtless with grungy cargo pants that were in desperate need of being tossed out. He didn’t have any tattoos, his hair was a little longer and generally messier, and he didn’t have any facial hair. The man in front of me might as well be a different person with his dress shirts, sleeves always rolled up to show off the colorful tattoos on his forearms, his hair stylishly coiffed, just a hint of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Which is my type? It’s hard to say because both versions of him light a fire in me like no one else has.
“I think it’s more about their personality than how they look,” I say.
“That’s going to be harder to spot from across the room, but not impossible. What are we looking for, brainiacs like you or what?”
I give a sharp shake of my head, tongue darting out to wet my lips. “Confident, funny, maybe a little bit arrogant.”
“You’re making it too easy, Einstein,” he says with a smirk, lifting his own drink to his lips and taking a sip. “Guys like that are easy to spot and even easier to flirt with.”
“They are?”
“Sure. With those types of men all it really takes is letting them know you’re interested in their attention, and they’ll be more than happy to give it.”
I take another sip of my drink and give a shaky nod. My tongue darts out, gathering a few sweet droplets as I shift nervously in my seat.
“So, um…how…how would I let someone like that know I’m…um…interested?” My heart is beating so hard I can barely get the question out, b
ut Pax seems completely unaware, scanning the bar absently.
“Compliment him, look at him like he’s the only man you can see in the whole bar, and a little casual touching goes a long way. You don’t need to go over the top, but a brush of the arm can really create a spark he won’t be able to ignore.”
Pax
I keep my eyes scanning the bar, hoping that if I don’t look at Elijah, he won’t be able to see the irritation on my face. I’m not even sure what’s getting under my skin. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in weeks. That would irritate anyone.
Warm fingers brush against my forearm, and I finally let my attention focus back on Elijah, which is exactly where it wants to be. That shy look is back in his eyes, his cheeks pink, whether from the alcohol or from nerves, I can’t tell. He traces the lines of the dragon on my forearm, his touch sparking along my skin like flint on kindling.
“I like your tattoos.”
“Yeah? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tattoo guy,” I say, unable to tear my gaze away from Elijah as he looks up at me through his long eyelashes, his curly hair hanging over his forehead.
“I’m not sure I am, but they’re nice on you.”
Something burns in the pit of my stomach. It’s similar to the kind of lust I have for the randoms I take home, but somehow burning deeper inside of me, hotter and more desperately than I’ve ever felt before. I clear my throat and pull my arm back, away from his touch.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a fast learner,” I joke, smiling to hide the way my heart is beating too fast, my cock hard as steel in my jeans. “Now let’s find you a real target to practice on.”
His face falls as he pulls his own hand back onto his side of the table.
“I think I changed my mind,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Rocket Science Page 4
