Chapter Eight
Adam
I was supposed to meet with a couple of my friends but ended up coming to the club early just to pass the time. The music was good, a few guys even worth checking out so I took a seat at the bar, drank and crowd gazed until Alex and Ray stumbled their way inside. They were already tipsy and caught the attention of their fans if the couple of people stopping them were anything to go by.
I shook my head and downed my drink, ordering another just to keep up. They were younger than me and still played hockey and while I did my best not to watch every game, I did know they'd won a couple of nights ago. It's been a few years since the last time I saw them, and I was happy for the opportunity.
"Herty! Isn't there an age limit to this club?" Ray punched me in the shoulder as he dropped down in the seat next to me.
"Piss off," I told him with a grin.
"That's the man we remember." Alex wrapped his arm around my head and pulled me to his side.
"I'm not as tough as I used to be, go easy on me." I pushed two fingers under his ribs, making him let go.
"So what have you been up to? None of the boys had any work done lately and that seems to be the only way we can get any news about you." Ray complained just before ordering a drink.
"You know, marking people for life, ignoring hockey as much as I can and trying to score."
"That's living, man." Alex sighed next to me and before you know it, it was like we saw each other yesterday and just needed to catch up.
People came up to us, some recognizing even me when next to the two still active hockey players, and after a while, when my mind was already faintly swimming, and Alex and Ray were busy signing away, I turned back toward the crowd.
Even with the low lighting it didn't take me long to notice Troy in the middle of the dance floor, barely standing and hugging a woman. Shock slammed into me at first. But as I watched him move, relaxed and completely different than any other version of him I couldn't help myself. I squashed the sliver of jealousy and just watched, yearning, until I told myself what the hell. I might as well enjoy one night when I can't have him otherwise. And I pushed away from the bar until I found myself right behind him, listening to his drunken thoughts and remembering exactly why I felt such a connection to him. I just knew we could be great together.
Pulling him closer seemed natural, feeling him all over just divine, and in minutes it was as if we'd just taken off from where we'd left behind months ago. I couldn't find it in myself to mind, and I only hugged him closer, trying to catch his jumbled words and only wanting him more with each one.
"I need a drink." He suddenly pushed away from me and took hold of my hand. "Come with me."
So without much choice I was dragged all the way to a table filled with women and neatly deposited in a free chair. The last thing I expected was for Troy to simply drop in my lap and lean against me as if we were still on the dance floor. Not willing to make a fuss about something that actually suited me, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, burying my nose against his neck.
"Way to go, Troy. He'll make you forget any ex, all right." A redhead piped in and I peeked from behind Troy's hair to look at her.
"Shut up," Troy told her and then demanded, "Someone get me some water."
"Here you go you drunk little tight ass," another one said handing him a bottle and suddenly all of them started laughing.
"Hey! You're Adam Herter," a guy at the table next to ours said, and suddenly the other two who were with him looked over, their eyes wide and surprised. I had no idea how they managed to even recognize me. But it happened often when I was without a beard and hair.
"Keep your hands to yourselves," Troy told them as they moved to get closer to me.
"Relax, Troy. You can have him. We would just appreciate an autograph," the first guy said with a half-smile and one hand lifted as if to calm Troy down.
"Oh," Troy said, then bit his lip, looking absolutely adorable and gazed straight into my eyes. "Is that all right with you?"
Even with all the booze in my system I could have laughed at him. He was too good for words. "Yes. That's all right with me," I confirmed for him.
"All righty," he told them even as he patted my cheek with his palm.
I was so consumed with Troy that I barely registered the pieces of paper and a pen thrust in front of me. I was willing to do a lot to make him see just how good we were together.
"Can you be just mine now?" Troy wrapped his arms around my shoulders and leaned his head against the closer one so that I had to move my head back enough to be able to see him.
"Whose else could I be?" I asked, distracted by his slightly parted lips.
"They knew you." He thrust his chin in the direction of the three guys who'd gotten their autograph and were now chatting, heads close to one another.
"A lot of people know me. It doesn't mean I want to spend time with them," I whispered, lifting my hand to brush his hair out of his eyes.
Troy hummed quietly, as if appreciating the touch before he focused his gaze on me once again. "Are you angry with me?" he whispered softly.
I took my time to sort my own feelings, unsure where this whole situation would leave me in general. Coming to the conclusion that honesty should always be the best policy, I tilted my head and really looked at Troy while I spoke.
"A little bit. You just blew me off, without an explanation or even a chance to make things right. When just days before we'd decided, together I might add, that we would give us a chance. I'm not gonna lie. It hurt."
Troy looked down, biting his lip. "I'm sorry. I'm a jackass."
I smiled. "Are you telling me, or apologizing for it?"
"What?" His eyes were so big as he lifted his head and focused on my face.
"Are you just telling me you're a jackass, or apologizing for being a jackass to me?" Smirking, I tugged lightly at the hair on the back of his neck.
"Ow. That hurt!" He complained even though I knew I didn't pull hard enough to cause him pain. The little devious creature wanted to change the subject.
"Shots!" someone yelled, startling both of us from the somewhat intimate moment.
"Noooo!" Troy wailed and almost fell out of my lap.
"Yes, yes." A brunette grinned almost maniacally as she pushed four cups our way.
"I can't. I'm too drunk already!" Troy complained again, but the brunette was relentless, "That's why three of those are for the hunk. You can handle the one."
This time I looked at her in surprise, not sure if I could manage three on top of everything else I'd already had.
"Come on, be a man." Another woman teased and with Troy nudging me softly in encouragement, I did my best to comply.
Of course, only minutes later I regretted it, as Troy stood up shakily, deciding it was time for us to dance again.
The club wasn't as full anymore and only a few couples swayed to the music, but Troy had a goal in mind and I didn't have a heart to refuse him.
My step was somewhat difficult, my legs not listening quite as well as they usually did, but I still followed behind Troy, stumbling a bit but standing, until he leaned into me without hesitation.
"Dance with me," he demanded, sliding his hands around me and gripping my ass.
I probably yelped or something along the same line of embarrassing sounds, but I did hug him back, playing with the edge of his shirt and I moved us along the dance floor.
Whatever we did had little to do with actual dancing, and matched even less to the music, but I held him close, as if he'd been there all along, and whatever ribbing I could get in the future was very well worth it.
I could feel his hands as he trailed upward, as he followed the edge of my jeans until he could dip his fingers just that much between them and my skin. The feel of him was scorching, burning as he went, poking at the squeezed muscle that I just couldn't relax. Not following the beat, he thrust his hips forward every once in a while, grazing my matching bulg
e which only ached for more contact.
Matching his example, I dared to slip my hands lower, to handle his slightly softer assets even as I pushed my thigh forward, harder, until he could almost lean on me and just rub one off. The sensations were overwhelming, and even with the bad balance I managed to move us along, to twist to the music until I spun Troy around and he laughed.
The need to kiss him was strong, as was the curiosity of what his lips might taste like, how soft they would be. The electricity was almost snapping between us, the arousal so potent I imagined I could taste it but the best thing of all was having Troy in my arms, so relaxed and willing. I could more or less cheat myself and insist all of it was real and it would have happened even without a drop of alcohol in our systems.
"Thinking too hard," Troy mumbled, leaving off my ass and pulling my head lower. He pressed his lips against my neck, pulling a heartfelt moan out of my lungs. But none of it seemed to faze him, not even when I wrapped my arms around him, when I squeezed him enough that he couldn't have freed himself without help. He just kissed with abandon, sneaking a lick here and there until I could feel myself leaking in my pants and was close to delirious with anticipation.
"Troy," I moaned, needing him, I felt, more than I ever needed sustenance.
"Hush," he hissed against my ear before biting it, tugging gently, and moving away.
My breath was short and fast as I almost huffed against Troy, as I lowered my head enough to share my weight with him. With a clouded mind I surrendered to his exploration, the naughty hands and wicked tongue as he pinched and petted, licked and sucked.
"Want you so badly," I panted, getting lost in the scent of his hair, the heat of his skin.
"You have me," Troy whispered back and viciously bit my neck.
I yelled, not expecting it and moved away from him enough to look into his eyes. We stopped in the middle of the floor, just looking at each other's blown pupils and licked lips. Our skin was flushed, sweat almost shiny under the light, and it seemed like there would never be a better moment, never more want between us as we instinctively leaned toward each other for that first priceless kiss.
"Troy!" someone yelled when we had barely an inch between us, and Troy turned as if anything could be more important, as if he didn't feel the utter loss.
"We're leaving. Come on." One of the women from before told Troy, and even though he turned to look at me, wiped my sweaty cheek with the width of his palm, he still moved away and left without a word. Left without granting me that one desperate but memorable kiss.
Chapter Nine
Troy
Waking up with a splitting headache was never something I could consider fun. Any sound, movement or light acted like burning blades stabbing me through the eye. I seriously doubted I would ever drink again. If I even managed to get out of my bed.
I somehow got myself upright, but even then it was a toss-up if I would be able to endure or just dash into the bathroom and hug the toilet bowl.
Lots of crying, groaning, and a shower later, I was sitting at my table, hugging a cup of coffee and begging for a quick death. The better part of last night was a mystery and barring the girls, lots of drinks, and a handsome stranger having his way with me on the dance floor, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The stranger seemed familiar, but considering the dreamlike fog surrounding him, I seriously doubted it could have been Adam. Maybe just someone who looked a lot like him. That would explain my willingness to be groped and the feeling of rightness still consuming me.
I shook my head, not willing to go there and remembered too late just how much of a mistake that move was. Whimpering I lowered my head to the table and closed my eyes only for my phone to ring and vibrate, shaking the whole damn surface and my skull with it.
Squinting with just one eye at the too-bright screen, I realized I knew the number by heart despite deleting it from my phonebook. Can I see you? the message said, pushing my heart into overdrive and bringing back the delicious taste of him to my tongue. It was Adam.
He had been so warm and willing. His hands cradled me as if I was the most precious of treasures, and his hesitance only gave him points when I'd pushed on like a bully, wanting more of him, ready to undress him even right there on the dance floor.
Screw dreams. None of them could have matched reality, and while I was too resistant in the past, consumed by my own doubts, there was none of it left to hold me back anymore. I wanted that closeness, the anticipation of a first kiss and the way Adam made me feel during every second we spent together.
Where? I wrote more sober than I could have expected and I knew my hands trembling had nothing to do with a hangover, but rather anticipation.
Same café we met last time in an hour? And I barely read the message before I was responding with I'll be there.
*~*~*
As I reached the café, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, took a deep breath and just gave myself that much needed kick in the butt which forced me to walk inside. I already had a course of action planned, and was not willing to just blow away another opportunity. No matter how much of a nice man Adam was, no one could just forgive and forget over and over again.
So I walked to his table and even as he stood up, so obviously nervous, I just thrust my hand forward and introduced myself. "Hi. My name is Troy and it's very nice to meet you."
Adam smiled, seemingly relieved and at least somewhat happy, because he took my hand in his and went with the flow. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Adam."
We sat down, Adam grinning goofily, and I matched his enthusiasm despite my blush.
"Programmer, a bit of a recluse, very insecure but often direct. Oh, and undoubtedly gay," I continued with my open and honest policy. I was in for the long haul this time, my demons be damned.
"Tattoo artist who often craves company, confident in my accomplishments and capabilities but not always secure enough to express my wishes and wants. I would say bisexual, but the truth is, most of the time I fall for the person not the gender." Adam confessed. I could work with that even if he still seemed too good to be true. I would just have to learn to deal with it.
"Why a tattoo artist?" I wanted to know more and Adam seemed more than willing to oblige. "It wasn't my first career choice. As a child and later on, I lived for hockey. It's the kind of game that consumes you if you love it enough and days consist of practice, game plans and diet. But even with all my hockey buddies I was sociable enough that I had a school crowd on the side. It helped, especially after the season was over and in my younger years. I would doodle constantly, in school, later in buses and planes when I wasn't sleeping. But before going pro and in the off season I hung out with my friends and I had a hand for tattoos. After I got injured and had to stop playing, I just went back to that. It took a while to get back the skill, but eventually I managed. I don't think I could have handled the loss of hockey without it."
"I'm sorry, I don't know the first thing about hockey. You were a professional? And what injury?" It was irrational to worry about something that must have happened years ago, but it still twitched in my chest when I imagined him hurt.
"It's all right. I don't mind you not recognizing me. It would be awkward if you'd asked for an autograph in the middle of a date." Adam chuckled and I smiled with him. "I hit the boards with my knee, had surgeries, rehab. Got back in shape, then quarter of a season later I injured it again, had more surgeries. I tried working through it, and succeeded to a point, but I was never the same and my game suffered. Eventually I just had to hang my skates. My body couldn't handle the strain and another hit like that might have left me with a permanent limp and a high lack of mobility."
Adam's expression seemed both sad and bitter, and it was so easy to see he didn't give it up easily. So I tried to change the subject even when I wasn't completely comfortable with my choice of the next topic. "Bisexual, huh? God, I bet you got laid as a pro athlete. Come to think of it, you can't be falling much behind with that biker image and amazi
ng artist reputation." I huffed at him, making him laugh. Mission accomplished.
"I have some experience." With those vague words he smiled at me, then he asked, "Why so insecure?"
It was my turn to face my fears and failures and I stared at the table as I picked and discarded my words. "I was…" I hesitated. "I was bullied for the bigger part of my school years. It left scars."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Adam reached for me right away, and it reminded me of our first time in this place, where holding hands was the best comfort possible and one I couldn't have anticipated even with making the first move.
"It's not your fault." I nudged his knee with mine under the table, trying to tone down the tension and it worked because Adam winked at me and despite my unavoidable blush, I enjoyed the attention.
"I kind of wish I could have been there for you, even though I know it wasn't possible. But on to brighter and happier subjects." Adam squeezed my hand before carrying on. "Do you have any family? I apologize if that's another sore subject. Last time you were really short on the answer and it left me a bit baffled." He raised his eyebrows and barely lowered his head, looking at me as if he might have done something wrong.
"I don't even know myself. Maybe we're just uncovering a lot of dirty laundry for a first," then I thought about my words, "Shit, this is our second date, isn't it? God, I'm really sorry about the last one." I pulled my hand out of his and hid my face in my hands.
"Hey, hey, it's all right." Adam reached over the table for me and pulled on my arms to uncover my face. "I still don't know what happened there, but we have plenty of time to talk about it. Can you just finish what you started telling me? I want to know." And his gaze was so earnest, I couldn't keep on running from each and every mistake I'd made with Adam.
"It just seemed like we've stumbled into all these difficult subjects and a second date should be light and fun. Something to make us like each other, not run in the other direction." I collected myself, tightening my grip on the edge of the table and realized I'd avoided his question once again. "I skipped the family answer again, didn't I? At least that is something I can fix," I mumbled the last part then continued.
Good Together Page 6
