Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Felice Stevens. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Memories with The Breakfast Club remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Felice Stevens, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Remember Love
By Silvia Violet
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Felice for opening up her world for other authors to play in and for including me in the launch. Marcus from Second to None is one of my favorite characters, and I thoroughly enjoyed having him visit with me while I wrote this story.
Chapter One
Antonio looked up from wiping the bar and froze. A blond man had just found an empty stool at the far end. Antonio could only see his profile, but he would know the man anywhere. It didn’t matter that it had been three years. That golden hair, the soft, loose curls that were so fucking effortless. Scott woke up looking perfect every damn morning. His cheeks were just plump enough to give him an innocent, boyish look, as if he would never hurt anyone. And of course, he wore impeccable—if occasionally stodgy—clothes that cost more than Antonio would ever dream of spending.
Scott couldn’t really be there, could he? Antonio glanced away and then back, hoping he was hallucinating. He’d been working himself half to death recently between school and Sparks.
He looked again. He was going to have to accept it. Scott Ingles, the only man who’d ever broken Antonio’s heart, was sitting at the bar in Sparks. Antonio’s heart pounded. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Was he going to throw up?
Scott had moved to Boston after they’d broken up.
After you sent him packing and refused to talk.
Antonio shut that inner voice down fast.
What was Scott doing in New York? Business probably, or visiting friends. But why was he in Sparks? He didn’t even like going to clubs.
He didn’t a few years ago. Who knows what he likes now?
Had he known Antonio worked there? Probably not. Why would he? Sparks was one of the most popular places in town. It wasn’t odd that someone would recommend it.
“That’s quite a reaction.”
It took Antonio a few seconds to process what his boss, Marcus, had said.
“Sorry. I—”
Marcus tilted his head toward Scott. “Who’s that?”
“Just someone from a million years ago.”
Marcus snorted. “You’re too young to have problems that old.”
“I doubt he even remembers me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
Antonio couldn’t resist the urge to look up. Scott was staring at him, eyes wide, expression unsure. He remembered Antonio all right, and Antonio surely remembered him: his skin, his scent, the way he loved to hold Antonio down, everything about him. And goddammit, Antonio still wanted him, no matter how much of an asshole Scott had been.
He wasn’t the only one.
His stomach churned, and the world spun. His chest was so tight, he couldn’t breathe. “I’ve got to go. Can you cover me?”
Antonio didn’t wait for an answer. He fled, pushing his way past Shane, who was working the bar with him. He didn’t stop running until he was more than halfway down the Employees Only corridor. He slid through the door into the dancers’ locker room. Fortunately, it was empty, so no one would witness his freak-out. He sat on a bench and dropped his head into his hands.
Wow. He’d never freaked out like this. Had he really just left his boss standing at the bar with a line of impatient people waiting for drinks? Hopefully he’d still have a job when he got himself together. But if he’d stayed at the bar, he might’ve passed out, thrown up, or confronted Scott. Surely all those were worse than running. Marcus would forgive him, wouldn’t he? Antonio worked hard, was never late, and got lots of kudos from customers.
Go back out there.
No. There was just no way he could face Scott. He needed to stay away until Scott left.
He drew in a shaky breath.
Go out there and ask him.
That was not going to happen. Had Scott even truly accepted that Antonio hadn’t cheated on him? How could he have believed that asshole who said Antonio had? He would never have believed it if he’d known how Antonio felt about him, if he’d known Antonio was… No, Antonio wouldn’t think about that. He’d been a fool, but now he knew better. He didn’t fall for anyone. He enjoyed men and then walked away. That was the only way to stay sane.
Right, because running and hiding in a locker room is such a sign of sanity.
Scott had surprised him; that was all. He was fine now. He could just go back out there.
When he pushed the locker room door open, his dizziness returned. He stumbled back to the bench and sat. Marcus would have to manage without him a little longer.
And he’d have to face reality. He’d only been fooling himself. The fact that he rarely thought about Scott more than once or twice—or ten times—a week did not mean he was over him. But if three years hadn’t made his memories of Scott fade, what would?
And why did he have to fuck up Antonio’s world?
Fuck up what, your denial skills?
It doesn’t matter what I feel or don’t. It’s not like we’re going to get back together.
How do you know? He might surprise you if you stop being too much of a coward to face him.
***
Scott braced himself for Antonio to make his way down the bar to take his order. He tried not to stare, but how could he help himself? Antonio, like the other Sparks bartenders, wore only a pair of glittering shorts so small, they left nothing to the imagination. His chest gleamed with oil, and Scott remembered just how good it felt to run his hands over Antonio’s defined muscles.
Would Antonio be angry that he was there? Would he even recognize Scott? It would hurt like hell if he didn’t, since Scott had hardly gone a day without thinking about him. Yet he’d waited years to seek him out. Even then, it had taken the prospect of moving back to New York to force him to face Antonio and apologize.
He deserved it if Antonio told him to leave. If he did, Scott wouldn’t make a scene, but he had to try. He wasn’t someone who normally believed in fate, but this trip to New York was as close as it got.
A week ago, Scott had been out to lunch with a few friends from work. Their conversation had turned to their biggest regrets. Just before it was his turn to share, his phone had rung. It was a recruiter, letting him know a company in New York wanted to interview him.
His biggest regret, his only serious one, was walking away from Antonio, and now someone was offering him the chance to go back to the city where Antonio lived. It was a sign. It had to be. Scott still had Antonio’s number in his phone, but he was too chicken to call or even text him. He knew Antonio worked at Sparks from his Instagram; fortunately, Antonio hadn’t blocked him after their breakup. And while it would be unfair to characterize Scott as a stalker, he did check occasionally to see if Antonio was well.
Antonio turned his way then. His eyes widened, and he froze. He looked more startled than angry, but there was no doubt he knew exactly who Scott was. Tension stretched between them. Finally, Antonio looked away, and Scott remembered how to suck air into his lungs.
Antonio began serving another customer, and Scott focused on his phone, pretending to be reading something. He didn’t want to meet Antonio’s eye until he had to.
Scott fought the urge to run after him. Something was obviously wrong. Was it him? God, he hoped not. Antonio looked so alarmed. He never wanted to put such an expression on his face.
A large man in a well-tailored black shirt came around from behind the bar and approached him. He smiled, but Scott didn’t feel any warmth behind it.
The man held out his hand, and Scott accepted the offer to shake.
“I’m Marcus, the owner of Sparks. Is this your first time in?”
Scott nodded. “Nice to meet you. I’m Scott.”
“Antonio didn’t seem thrilled to see you.”
Oh, shit. Maybe Antonio had fled because of him. Scott had steeled himself for bitchy snark, even for being shouted at—he really had been a dick to Antonio. But this… Antonio had looked almost afraid.
I hurt him, badly. If he comes back, I’m going to apologize and then walk away. I don’t deserve anything more.
Scott inhaled slowly before responding. Marcus didn’t look like a man he wanted to piss off. “Antonio and I have some history. I came here to apologize.”
“So you did come looking for him?”
He probably shouldn’t have revealed that, but he wasn’t going to backpedal now.
“I did. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, but I wanted to set things right between us.”
Marcus arched his brows. “Really?”
Does this guy have to act like such an ass?
“You stalked him, scared him, and all because you want to apologize. You could’ve done that in a message.”
Marcus made it sound like Scott was threatening Antonio or something, but Antonio had made no attempt to hide where he worked on his public Instagram. “I was in town, and the apology is something I should say in person.” For all he knew, Antonio could’ve changed his number anyway.
“Tell you what,” Marcus said. “You give me a message for him, and if he wants to contact you later, he can.”
Scott shook his head. “I’d rather just wait for him.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Are you kicking me out?” He’d never been kicked out of a club before. Hell, he only went to clubs if he was dragged by friends, and then he always left way before they did. Alone.
He could argue with Marcus, but if the man was the owner, it was his decision. “Fine. Tell him…” Scott grabbed a napkin and wrote it instead.
I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I was an idiot. I’m in town until early tomorrow. My number hasn’t changed. 212-555-1349
He immediately second-guessed himself. He shouldn’t have written that much. He should’ve just said he was sorry. He started to crumple the napkin, but Marcus jerked it away from him, folded it, and slipped it in his back pocket. “I’ll see that he gets it.”
Scott studied him. Would he?
“Trust me. Now, I assume your business won’t bring you here again.”
“Are you always this tough on customers?”
“Only when they make my best bartender run off.”
“Right.” Scott slipped from the barstool. Thankfully, he’d never even gotten a drink, so he didn’t have a tab to settle.
He sighed as he stepped into the brisk air. At least the chill was cooling his cheeks. They’d already been warm with embarrassment when he sat down at the bar. Now they burned.
That had certainly not gone like he’d expected. But was it actually worse? There hadn’t exactly been a scene. Antonio didn’t tell him off, but he had run from him. That couldn’t be counted as good.
What were the chances Antonio would call him?
About the same as him scoring Hamilton tickets while he was in New York.
In other words: zero.
He decided to walk the ten blocks to his hotel. He needed to move, breathe, use up some of the nervous energy that had built as he’d watched Antonio pour drinks.
Antonio was even more gorgeous than he’d been three years ago, if that was possible. His hair was longer, and he’d filled out a bit. Scott couldn’t stop seeing him with his oiled chest and tiny shorts. He was incredible. And his ass. Did it make Scott a terrible person that he’d watched Antonio’s ass as he’d fled?
Why hadn’t he trusted Antonio more when they were together? Most people would characterize Scott as calm, level-headed, reserved. But not on that awful day three years ago, the day when Rick, the office asshole, had presented him with “proof” Antonio was cheating on him. Scott had jumped to conclusions, yelled and accused, and worst of all, refused to listen until it was too late. Once he realized how wrong he’d been, Antonio was no longer willing to hear his apology. And who could blame him?
Chapter Two
A sound woke Scott.
Shit. He’d fallen asleep on the couch. Thinking he wouldn’t be able to sleep after what had happened at Sparks, he’d turned on a movie; apparently, he hadn’t made it through.
The sound came again. It was his phone chiming with a text.
He reached behind him and felt around on the table until he found his phone.
Sorry if Marcus scared you. He’s over-the-top sometimes.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Antonio had actually contacted him. What should he say? It was two a.m. He must be getting off work. Would he be willing to see Scott?
I should ask him out.
Would that be too pushy?
I could try to do it casually. If he says no, at least I’ll know I tried.
His hands shook as he typed. You want to meet at a diner or something? I’d—he started to type the word “love,” then changed it to—like to see you.
He pressed Send before he could qualify his statement or second-guess himself. He had a terrible habit of rambling in texts. And in emails, and voice mails, and in person. He had no idea how many times he’d embarrassed himself by not shutting up.
Antonio didn’t reply immediately. Scott paced the room, unable to think of anything but how much he wanted to see those little dots, oscillating back and forth, letting him know Antonio was writing him. After a few moments, he made himself put his phone down so he wouldn’t keep watching the screen.
Just as he was trying to convince himself to go to bed, his phone chimed, and he lunged for it.
Meet me at 24/7. It’s near the club.
I’ll be there as fast as I can. I’m ten blocks away.
He grabbed his coat and raced from his room. Please let there be a cab available right away.
Thank God, Antonio was willing to talk to him. Scott hadn’t realized how very much he’d missed Antonio until he’d seen him. He missed everything about him: his sunny smile, his easy conversation, the way he could talk to anyone (which made him an excellent bartender), the sensual way he moved. He’d fucked Scott like he was Antonio’s favorite thing in the world and he wanted to touch all of him, taste all of him. Scott had never had another partner as enthusiastic as Antonio. Not that he’d had that many.
He hadn’t been a monk since Antonio kicked him out, but most of the men he’d gone out with turned out to be assholes, or found him too stuffy, or wanted nothing beyond a one-night stand.
That wasn’t what Scott wanted. What he wanted was Antonio. He’d known that, but he’d tried to ignore it. Now he couldn’t.
So go get him.
The doorman got a cab for him almost immediately, and a few minutes later, he was standing in front of the 24/7 diner.
Antonio sat at a table by the window, smiling at something on his phone. Hopefully it wasn’t a text from a boyfriend.
Holy fuck. What if he did have a boyfriend? Would Marcus have said something if he did? Probably. Maybe. Fuck.
Get in there and find out.
With a shaky breath, Scott pushed open the door of the diner and headed toward Antonio. Just before he reached the table, a waitress stopped to place a piece of cheesecake and
a cup of coffee at the place across from Antonio.
He hesitated. “Is someone else with you?”
Antonio smiled up at him, and Scott’s breath caught. “No, that’s for you.”
“You remembered?” Scott loved cheesecake, traditional New York cheesecake—unadorned, pure cream-cheese goodness with a nice contrasting crust, crumbly, not too wet. This piece looked perfect.
“I owed you since Marcus grilled you after I ran off.”
“He wasn’t that bad.”
Antonio rolled his eyes. “I doubt that. He’s a bit overprotective of his staff.”
That was an understatement. “Maybe a bit.”
They both laughed, which gave a momentary respite to the tension between them.
“Sit. Eat your cheesecake.”
“You come here a lot after work?”
Antonio nodded. “Yeah, a lot of us from Sparks do.”
“So is Sparks a good place to work?”
“It is. Despite what you saw tonight, Marcus is a great boss.”
Antonio was being polite, which was more than Scott deserved. But the conversation still felt awkward. There was something in Antonio’s demeanor—reservation, reticence—that wasn’t like him, not unless he’d changed. Scott hoped he hadn’t.
He took a few bites of cheesecake as Antonio chattered about work, but as good as it was—perfect texture, excellent crust—he was having trouble making it go down.
He reached across the table and laid a hand on top of Antonio’s, interrupting him midsentence. “I’m sorry. I just need to say this now. I should never have believed you’d hurt me like that. I know this is coming way too late, but you wouldn’t let me say it before. I understand why, but I’ve regretted never trying again. I convinced myself you wouldn’t want to see me, or talk to me, or…” He was rambling, but it was hard to stop. “Anyway. I… I’m sorry.”
Antonio squeezed his hand and then let go. “Thank you. I should’ve been willing to listen.”
Scott shook his head. “No, you had every right to be furious with me.”
Memories with The Breakfast Club: Remember Love Page 1
