by TJ Klune
“Not even about our wedding vows?” Vince asked, his brow furrowing.
“Wedding vows,” the man repeated. “You’re married? To him?” He looked incredulous, which was quite the feat, given the mask he wore. I wanted to ask him to do a Bane impression but didn’t know if that was polite. When one is in a leather bar, one needs to be careful when deciding if a patron is a Batman villain cosplayer.
“I am,” Paul said. “Like, so married.”
“But you’re a leather chub,” the man said. “And he’s… you know.”
“A homo jock?” I suggested helpfully.
“Right,” the man said. “How the hell did that happen?”
“I hit him with my car,” Paul said. “And never let him go after that.”
Bane left rather quickly.
It was about that time that I realized just how similar Darren and Vince could look, especially when they glowered. It was remarkable. I didn’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before.
“Am I catnip for the leather bears?” Paul asked, sounding awed. “Is that my superpower? To bring even the strongest men to their knees because they want to get all up on my junk?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being married to a homo jock,” Vince muttered.
Paul looked at him, and his face softened. “No, there’s not. It’s actually pretty damn great, if you ask me. It’s not—no. Not interested. I am with my husband, and I ask that you leave me be. You must resist the call of my body.”
The third man, who had appeared at our table as if by magic, turned around and walked away.
“We have to get out of here,” Vince blurted. “Before we’re overrun and I can’t fight them all off.” He tried shoving Paul toward the edge of the booth, but Paul didn’t move. He looked at me, and I narrowed my eyes at him, daring him to try.
He didn’t.
Paul rolled his eyes. “Now you know how I feel practically everywhere we go.”
Vince squinted at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You get hit on all the time,” Paul said. “Like, right in front of me. And even though you don’t ask for it, it still happens. They don’t even see me standing right next to you.”
“But I don’t do anything about it!”
“I know,” Paul said. “But it’s still frustrating. It’s like they can’t imagine someone like me being able to land someone like you.”
“I don’t understand,” Vince admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re the best person I know.”
“Right,” Paul said softly. “But that jealousy you’re feeling right now? Even though it’s dumb, it’s still there. I get like that too.”
“Oh,” Vince said. “That’s… awful. I don’t like it. It makes me want to punch something.”
Paul snorted. “Well, you don’t need to worry about anything. Even though everyone here apparently wants my hot bod, they don’t have my last name.”
“I do!” Vince said excitedly. “I’m an Auster!”
“You are,” Paul said, suddenly aggressive. I needed to get out of here before I saw something that would warp my innocent mind. “You’re so an Auster.”
“You want to get Freddie Prinze Juniored?” Vince growled, and what the fuck was that?
“That’s still not what it means,” Paul said. “But I’ll allow it. You can Freddie Prinze Junior me all you want—”
“Ack!” I cried. “Let me go! Let me go.”
“Corey,” Vince said without looking at me. “You might want to leave. I’m about to make out with Mr. Auster.”
“Ooh,” Paul whispered. “Are you, Mr. Auster?”
I managed to escape before things got wet.
I bumped into someone and apologized as I left the table, glancing back in time to see Vince stick his tongue down Paul’s throat.
“Ah, shit,” a squat man said next to me. “Someone got to the chub first. Goddammit.”
He sounded so dejected that I almost felt bad. And then I heard Paul groan and decided that everyone in this goddamn bar could fuck off completely.
I wandered through the crowd, trying to find a familiar face. I saw Charlie first, and he was in the middle of a large group of people. He looked like he was holding court, and all his subjects were enamored of him. I thought about going over but decided to leave him be.
I found Darren and Helena near the bar. Darren was sitting on a stool, and Helena was on his lap, his arms around her waist. Helena was laughing loudly, her head tilted back. Darren was grinning up at her, an expression he seemed to have only with Sandy or Helena. It was… sweet. Or as sweet as the Homo Jock King could be.
I rubbed my chest, that strange twist I’d been feeling more often lately starting to burn. I knew what it was, though I tried hard to ignore it. I didn’t think it was loneliness quite yet, but it was something so close that there might not have been a difference. I was happy for all my friends. They’d found the people they were meant to be with. How many people could actually say that?
Not me, for one.
And I was fine with that, or at least that’s what I told myself. When I’d been with Ty, it’d been fun and sweet, and I loved him. That love had grown into something different—something more, something better—but I thought I knew even then that it was always temporary. And when he’d first told me about Dom, I understood why. First loves are often the hardest to let go of, but Tyson had found who he was supposed to be with.
As had Paul.
And Sandy.
And Darren.
And Vince.
“Jesus,” I mumbled to myself. “Being emo in a leather bar is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
I hadn’t exactly lied when I’d told my family that I was fine with the way things were. I believed that. But I was human, which meant some small part of me I didn’t like to look at closely disagreed. I told myself that if it was meant to happen one day, it would. I was only twenty-three. I had plenty of time to worry about all that shit later.
It was getting harder to believe that.
Helena laughed again at something Darren said, and I smiled to myself before leaving them be.
I decided to get some air. It was starting to feel claustrophobic in the bar. People kept bumping into me, and I was getting irritated.
I made it only a few steps before I stopped in my tracks.
Jeremy.
He was standing near a wall. The new Mr. Leatherman was on one side of him, with the runners-up on the other side. A photographer was in front of them, camera flashing. They were all smiling. Jeremy turned toward the man to his left, the one who had come in second place. He was shorter than Jeremy, but wide and strong. His head was shaved, and even from where I stood, I could see the stars in his eyes as he looked up at Jeremy. His arm was wrapped tightly around Jeremy’s waist, and he tilted his head up to whisper something to Jeremy. Then he lightly bit Jeremy’s earlobe.
Jeremy laughed as the man pulled back. They looked forward again as the camera continued to flash.
Yeah, I really needed to get some air.
I pushed my way through the crowd, my breath rattling in my ears. My chest felt tight, and I was so goddamn full of shit. If I was Ty, I would have told myself to knock it off. If I was Sandy, I would have said that I needed to be honest with myself. I hadn’t been around when Paul and Vince were dancing around each other, but if I had, I would have told Paul to just fucking open his eyes and stop being so goddamn obtuse.
That’s the funny thing about advice: it’s easier to give than it is to take.
I pushed through the front door, a wave of warm, dry air washing over me. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear my head. The bouncer told me that if I was going to go back inside, I needed to have my wrist stamped, but I ignored him. I walked down the sidewalk away from the bar, grinding my teeth.
How had I let it get this far? For a large part of my life, things had felt beyond my control. My brain was at war with my body, and I was being betrayed by both. I
was from a home filled with—at best—casual indifference, though I didn’t know if that was on me or my fosters. It hadn’t been until I’d met Sandy and been accepted into Dartmouth that I found some semblance of order, and I’d run with it, to the point where I’d become stringent and single-minded, focused on attaining every single goal I’d had.
But I was such a hypocrite, because I’d given shit to Ty for doing the same thing. I’d told him there was more to life than what he was making of it. It was almost two-faced, a pretense that I shoved off on others without allowing it to be directed toward myself.
“Stupid,” I muttered. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
And oh, the what-if game I played with myself.
What if Jeremy wasn’t my professor? I’d think as I watched him pace in front of the class, eyes alight, hands flailing wildly.
What if Jeremy wasn’t my boss? I’d think as Jeremy pulled up every morning in front of our house in his slut machine.
What if Jeremy could be interested in someone like me? I thought now, even though it was such a useless thing. I glanced down at the corset I wore, feeling like such an imposter. This wasn’t who I was. This was Charlie and Jeremy’s world, and I was a tourist. Jeremy had said so himself.
“Goddammit,” I groaned.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I froze. Because fuck my life.
I felt a hand on my bare shoulder and tried to convince myself it was nothing but a hallucination. But if it was, it was startlingly crisp and clear as Jeremy moved around in front of me, looking concerned. He’d lost his cap somewhere, and his hair was sweaty and matted down against his head.
Which, of course, took nothing away from his attractiveness.
If you’d had told me even a week ago that I’d be into someone wearing enough leather to send a vegan into anaphylactic shock, I’d have laughed in your face.
But here we were.
Life sucked.
I forced a smile on my face. “Yeah, just needed a break.” I stepped back, and he dropped his hand. “It was a little… intense.”
He frowned. “Did someone say something to you? They can be a little aggressive, but no one should be pushing you for something you don’t want.”
I shook my head. “No, not like that. It’s just… a lot, I guess. Like, at Jack It, I’m usually up in the Queen’s Lair, so I don’t have to be in crowds. I don’t like getting bumped around.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
He didn’t look like he believed me. He looked around before grabbing my arm and walking around the back of the bar near the parking lot. There was a door that I hadn’t noticed before. Near it, fixed to the wall, was a metal bench. Next to it was an old coffee can on the ground filled with cigarette butts. A single bulb above the door was dimly lit.
Jeremy pushed me to the bench and sat down beside me. I snorted as his leather squeaked. God, what a weird night.
“Better?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure. Thanks.”
I could feel him watching me, but I stared resolutely forward. It seemed safer that way.
He sighed. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”
Well, shit. “No, that’s not—argh. I’m happy to be here. It was… nice, seeing you in your element. I just—wait. How did you know we were going to be here?”
“Helena Handbasket.”
“She told you?” I demanded, jerking my head toward him. “That bitch!”
He laughed. “No. I was told she was going to be performing tonight. And when I heard that, I figured she would be coming with her entourage.”
I grimaced. “Please don’t ever refer to us as her entourage again, especially in front of her. Her ego’s already through the roof.”
“Noted.” He hesitated. Then, “Did you want it to be a surprise?”
“Um, maybe?” Goddammit, when the fuck did I become so awkward? “I mean, not really. Like, some surprises are bad, and I didn’t want to ruin—”
“It would have been a nice surprise,” he said quietly.
That threw me off. “Oh. Well, then. Good. I guess.”
“Sorry I ruined it.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You managed to surprise me instead. I didn’t expect Jeremy Olsen to have a secret identity.” I winced. “And sorry if you wanted to keep it a secret. I don’t think we necessarily understand boundaries with people we care about.”
He stared at me.
“What?” I asked, confused.
He shook his head slowly. “Nothing. It’s—nothing. And it’s fine.” He took a deep breath. “I like having people here just for me. I don’t usually have that.”
Ah, shit. Now I was feeling things. “You seem pretty popular in there.” I was careful to keep the irritation from my voice.
He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not—it’s a surface thing, you know? It’s exciting and fun, but they just know me as this guy who wears leather and happened to win a contest. It’s not that deep.”
I remembered what Charlie had heard from Robert. That Jeremy didn’t seem to be close with anyone. That there was a difference between having admirers and having someone to talk to. It sounded lonely as fuck. “Still, from what I gather, it’s quite the honor. Something to be proud of. I’m sorry if we intruded on that.”
He sounded frustrated when he said, “It’s not a secret. I’m not trying to hide anything. It’s like—Helena. Sandy doesn’t tell everyone he meets he’s a drag queen, does he?”
“Eh. Most of the time. And those who don’t already know usually end up emotionally devastated by a well-placed barb.”
“I’m not ashamed of this,” he said. “It’s just… one part of me.”
“I get that. It’s there, but it doesn’t define you. It’s part of a whole.”
“Right,” he said, sounding relieved. Our shoulders brushed together. “That’s exactly it. I knew you’d get it.”
“You did?”
He looked down at the ground, boots shuffling against the pavement. “Yeah.”
“Oh. That’s… good.”
“You’re different, you know?”
I frowned as I looked over at him. “What?”
“In a good way,” he said quickly. “Like, the best way. You’re… I don’t know how to explain it. You see things in ways others don’t. It’s how you’re so good at what you do.”
“What do you mean, what I do?”
“Being alive, I guess.”
I blinked. “That’s… all-encompassing.”
His eyes sparkled in the low light. “You kind of are.”
Oh no. More compliments. My greatest weakness. I was doomed. I had to stop this before it ended up with me throwing myself at him. “We should be friends!” I all but shouted at him.
He reared back as if I had just yelled in his face. Which, to be fair, I had. “What?”
“Friends!” I said, trying not to sound frantic and not quite succeeding. “We need to be friends.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought we kind of were already?”
“Right,” I said hastily. “But… that’s like, work friends. We should be out of work friends too. But not workout friends, because I will fight you to the death before I ever jog on purpose. And I know you’re my boss, but that’s not against the rules, is it? The friend thing, not the killing me to go jogging with you thing. Because that’s murder, and that’s illegal. Right? So even though you’re in a position above me, we can still make this work.”
“I… think so?”
I nodded furiously. “Good. Because while other things might be against the rules, that’s not. And that’s good. Great, even.”
“What other things are you talking—”
I overrode him because I had not meant to say that. My porn brain was wrestling me for control, all but demanding that I tell him to get all up on this while we were still young. “Barbecue!” I said brightly and apropos of nothing.
&
nbsp; Jeremy looked like he had whiplash. Poor guy. “Barbecue.”
“Yes. Yes, a barbecue. Paul’s parents are having one next weekend, and you and your dad are formally invited!” They weren’t having anything of the sort, but I could worry about that later. I was going to be the best friend Jeremy ever had, even if it meant death by blue balls. And everyone knows when you have friends, you invite them to barbecues.
He watched me for a moment. Then, “That sounds… good.”
I exhaled sharply. “Yes, it does. The best, really. And you and Robert can come and meet Matty and Larry.” Oh no. “And Nana.” Oh dear god, no. “And her racist homophobic parrot Johnny Depp.”
“Her racist and homophobic what?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I said, wondering if it was too late to rescind the invite. “Forget I even said anything.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Jeremy said faintly.
“Try harder,” I demanded. I coughed roughly. “I mean, it’s going to be amazing. You’ll see. They’re just going to love you.” If they didn’t, they would face my wrath.
His lips quirked. “Meeting the family, huh? You sure it’s not too soon?”
That motherfucker. Here he was playing 4D chess while I was stuck in goddamn Candy Land. “What!”
“Whoa,” he said. “That was loud.”
“Friends,” I said, resolute. “We’re gonna be such awesome friends. You’ll see. You’ll never have a friend like me.”
“Uh-huh. I’m starting to see that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “That had better be a good thing.”
And when he smiled and said, “The best thing,” I was four point six seconds away from screeching that my body was ready.
Fortunately I was saved (foiled? No, definitely saved) when the door opened behind him. The sounds of the bar spilled out, and though I was relieved at the interruption, that quickly turned sour when I saw who it was.
The Mr. Leatherman runner-up. The one who’d been cozily pressed up against Jeremy and felt the need to bite his ear. He was lucky Charlie hadn’t given me a sword along with my corset. I would have lopped off his head.
“Hey,” Runner-Up said. “I was looking for you.” He saw me sitting next to Jeremy and frowned. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”
