Keeper 2019 reissue, p.10
Keeper (2019 Reissue), page 10
Suddenly, a man in his mid-thirties approaches me and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”
I blink at him, my mind blank. “Uh—”
Austin starts laughing behind me. I could really punch him right now.
The man doesn’t wait for a response. He hails for the bartender and asks for two drinks. Then he passes me one. And now I have two beers.
I dart a look at Austin, whose goofy grin makes my own mouth twitch. I take a long sip from the beer Austin bought me, feeling awkward. How to let the guy know I’m not into guys? Austin, the bastard, keeps laughing at my stuttering. Then I see him straighten. He’s looking at someone over my shoulder, but I can’t see who.
Austin touches my arm. “I’ll be right back.”
Before I can respond, he leaves me. Alone. In a gay bar.
Fuck.
My attention wanders to where Austin and his new guy friend converse on the dance floor, their bodies nearly touching. Eventually, they stop talking and start dancing. With the crowd and low lighting, I can’t get a good view. Austin’s back is turned toward me. It turns out my friend isn’t that bad of a dancer. I never realized.
“What’s your name?” the man asks me.
His smile is kind, which makes me feel bad. “Logan.”
“Nice to meet you, Logan. The name’s John.”
We shake hands, and he’s slow to release his grip. I try to step back but find my way blocked by the crush of people vying for the bartender’s attention. “Look, John, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not—I mean, my friend—”
“You’re straight, is what you’re trying to say.”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
He smiles. “It’s okay. I knew it was probably too good to be true. You’re just too damn good-looking.” He laughs, and the skin around his eyes crinkles. It’s a nice smile. “I saw you walk through the door. At first I thought you were with your friend over there.” He points to Austin.
My shock is like a punch to the gut. “Oh.” The guy Austin dances with leans forward and whispers something into my friend’s ear. Austin smiles, but it’s reserved. I can tell. He’s never open with people he first meets. Or anyone, for that matter. Except for me.
“No, we’re old friends, that’s all.” My voice sounds far away.
The man nods, but it seems like he doesn’t believe me. Whatever. Eventually, he goes off to find someone else, and I’m left alone at the bar. A stool opens up on the end, kind of squished in the corner, so I grab it before someone else does. Now that I’m out of the way, it’s less likely I’ll be hit on.
The music changes into something slower, and my focus is again drawn to Austin. He and his new friend are plastered together—chests, stomach, thighs. Austin’s hands rest on the guy’s lower back. The guy’s arms twine around Austin’s neck. I push aside a spark of irritation. Here I sit, avoiding socializing. And there he is, having a ball. I’m beginning to question my decision to come out tonight, considering I’m now a sitting duck. I wanted to see this part of Austin’s world, but I wanted to do it together.
It’s a selfish thought. He booked this trip before I was ever in the picture. It was my decision to change my flight, so I can’t blame him for sticking to his plans, even if those plans involve ignoring me.
I finish my first beer and move onto the second. I spend the next hour scrolling through my phone, looking up the latest game highlights. Soon, I finish my second beer. I continue to track Austin as he moves around the crowded dance floor, switching partners but always returning to the dark-haired man. The low, gritty music pulses through my blood. The more I drink, the more my mood darkens, because at this point it’s been nearly two hours, and my time is being wasted. I could be out roaming the streets or picking up women. Instead I’m here, waiting for my friend to finish his dancing so we can hang out.
As my buzz grabs hold of me, my thoughts start to wander. I’m pulled back into the memory of four years ago. I was seated on the edge of the wooden chair in the closet, and someone’s breath coasted over my hard-as-concrete dick. I tried to imagine which girl it was, whether it was Jade. I hoped so. My breath shuddered out of me, almost a moan. God, the wait was torture.
The girl’s tongue ran around and around the flared head. No hands, only tongue. My body shook with the need to thrust my hips forward, push my cock deeper into her mouth. I gripped the sides of the chair so I wouldn’t touch her. It was against the rules.
Then, wet heat engulfed me as she took me deep, and I swear my moan was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, even over the house music. “Oh, fuck.” The most acute pleasure speared through my body. Beyond the closet door, high-pitched giggles trickled through my lust-drenched haze. I didn’t care. My fingers gripped the chair so tightly I thought they might snap in half. Heat sizzled down my spine, then shot to my pelvis as that tongue followed a leisurely path down my cock, the sucking sensation wrenching another groan from me, the drag of the mouth pulling me closer to completion. Cold air. Heat again. It was both heaven and hell, pleasure and pain.
The girl worked me over with exquisite technique. I kept moaning. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t help myself. This girl, whoever she was, was good. Too good. “Don’t stop,” I choked out, my breath stuttering through me.
She started slow, but soon she picked up speed, using the tip of her tongue to trace the bottom of my cock. She removed her mouth with a wet pop before pressing soft kisses along the shaft, inching toward my balls. She sucked one into her mouth, and my hips started to move, seeking friction.
One of my hands lifted, touched the top of the girl’s head, but a second later she moved my hand to my side again. She swallowed me with her mouth, allowing me to push in deeper. It was too much. At this point, I was trembling uncontrollably. I couldn’t hold out any longer.
“Gonna come,” I said, voice hoarse.
Warm hands gripped my outer thighs. Against the rules. I didn’t care, and neither, it seemed, did she. More than anything, I wanted to rip off my blindfold, see the face of the girl who gave me such mind-blowing pleasure. A moment later, my release barreled through me, and I pumped harder with a low groan, stiffening as my orgasm shredded me apart.
My body felt boneless, and I almost slid off the chair before the girl grabbed me, pulling me back up. I decided, Fuck it, because I wanted to see who was with me in the closet, and I started to yank away the blindfold when hands stilled mine. My heart was thundering. The person lowered my hands. A second later, footsteps. The opening and closing of the door. I yanked off the blindfold and searched for my pants in the dark, tugging them on. I didn’t want the girl to get away. But when I stumbled into the bedroom, it was empty. The girl was gone.
A touch to my shoulder jolts me back to the present. I blink the fog from my mind, the world coming back into focus. Austin stands in front of me, his cheeks flushed, his eyebrow ring a glint in the dim. “Logan?” He looks worried. “Are you okay?”
My throat bobs, and my gaze unintentionally drops to his mouth. I hadn’t thought too much about it when Austin confessed to what he’d done at the party, but now it’s all I can think about. He was the one who had given me that mind-blowing orgasm. His mouth. On me. My best friend.
“Logan?”
My head snaps up. Austin frowns at me. “Yeah, sorry.” My head is swimming. Austin liked me in high school. And I had no idea. And now I don’t know how I feel about that. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing.” He looks at the beer I’m drinking and is probably putting two and two together that it wasn’t the beer he or the other guy bought me, so it’s at least my third.
I’m pretty sure it’s my fourth.
“I’m good,” I manage. My attention lands on the person he’s been dancing with for the last two hours. He’s a shorter guy with a muscular build, brown skin, and brown eyes.
Austin introduces us. “Logan, this is Travis. Travis, this is my friend Logan, also a soccer player.”
“Nice to meet you.” His voice is smooth and deep as we shake hands.
“We’re going to dance for a little while longer, if you’re cool with that.”
Do I have a choice? It’s not like I want to cockblock Austin and a potential hookup. So I nod, even though I want to ask him when we’re going to leave. The night is young. We don’t have much time before we have to fly back to Paris tomorrow. I thought we’d be exploring Rome together.
They return to the dance floor, and I’m once again left to my own devices. For the next hour, I drink. A lot. And I get hit on. A lot. Currently there’s an older man with an Australian accent drinking me in like I’m a cold glass of water on a hot day. He stands close enough for me to feel his body heat, but my focus keeps returning to Austin. If Austin goes home with this dude, I’m going to be on my own.
The thought sends a streak of unreasonable anger through me.
“Excuse me, man,” I say, interrupting whatever it is he’s saying. Pushing him aside, I fight the crowd to reach the dance floor. It’s mostly couples grinding together or making out. Or both.
I spot Austin, his mouth close to Travis’s, and my stomach drops at the sight. They don’t kiss, but they’re sharing breath. It feels like I’m having an anxiety attack. What the fuck is wrong with me?
It’s probably the feeling of claustrophobia creeping over me. Some fresh air will do me good.
Grabbing his arm, I draw his attention back to me, and I feel some relief when he steps away from Travis, who’s currently glaring at me hard enough to bore holes into my head. Well, too fucking bad dude. He was my friend first. “Getting ready to head out,” I tell him.
It’s a dick move, because I know Austin—loyal, steadfast Austin—will leave if he thinks I’m feeling uncomfortable. And it’s unfair because, technically, I’m crashing his night, ruining his plans. And it’s selfish, but I’m feeling a little selfish right now. Also, a shit ton of drunk. My head pounds.
Austin stares at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation. That’s new. It’s not often I see Austin angry, if ever. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him angry, and most of those times were if a ref made a bad call during a game.
“Oh.” He hesitates. It’s written all over his face—the internal battle. I’m suddenly afraid he won’t come with me. That he’ll choose this random stranger, who he met only a few hours ago, over me. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, waiting for his answer.
He turns to the guy. And then—and I can’t believe he says this—but he says to Travis, “Logan and I are heading out. Do you want to join us?”
No fucking way.
I’m starting to see red. For the past three hours, I’ve sat at this bar and watched my friend hit it off with someone else, essentially ignoring me, when the only reason I came to Rome in the first place was to hang out with him. Does Austin not see that?
Travis smiles, but his expression is uncertain as his eyes flicker to me. The DJ shouts something to the crowd, and the crowd screams back. Strobe lights start flashing, adding to my headache. “Are you sure your boyfriend won’t mind? Seems to me he doesn’t like sharing.”
Austin’s face twists in shock. Again, he looks at me, searching. “It’s not like that,” he says, but it sounds uncertain. “We’re just friends.”
Something drops in the pit of my stomach as we lock eyes. I have no idea what’s happening to me right now. I have no idea where this jealousy and resentment is coming from. Or maybe I do. When Austin removed himself from my life after high school, I honestly thought a piece of me had died. He was my best friend. Still is, if I’m being honest. I’m thinking of laughing with him and trusting him and being completely myself and playing soccer with him and the memory of that earth-shattering blow job I received all those years ago, and I realize I’m hard. And as Austin turns to say something to Travis, something inside me snaps. I grab his arm, yank him around, and smash my mouth to his.
Austin stiffens, even as he doesn’t fight what’s happening. Or maybe he can’t keep up with what’s happening. I sure as hell can’t. The only thing I know right now is what I’m feeling, and what I’m feeling is attraction toward my best friend.
The bar fades away. A moment later, I feel the first hesitant brush of Austin’s tongue against mine, and I growl into his mouth, plying it open wider with my tongue, even as I press closer to him, my desire swelling against his thigh. Dimly, I hear the other guy stomp away.
Austin jerks back, breathing hard. His eyes are wide. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before.
Finally, he finds his voice. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he rasps.
The words are quiet. Shit. That means he’s angry.
The smart thing to do would be to apologize.
But I’m drunk. And I’m not feeling smart right now. I’m pissed off and confused and horny.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I throw back at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What are you talking about, Logan? You’re the one who’s acting like a douche.” Warm bodies press in, shoving us a few inches closer. Our chests brush, and my breathing deepens of its own accord. The taste of him lingers on my tongue. I want more. I don’t know what’s scarier—that I’m thinking these thoughts, or that I don’t seem to have a problem with them.
It’s almost as if Austin is thinking the same thing, because his gaze dips to my mouth. His features are a stone-cold mask. If I didn’t know what a kind-hearted person he was, I’d be freaked out about the tats and eyebrow ring. He looks like a scary motherfucker right now. “You acted like an asshole to Travis. Like a jealous, possessive boyfriend.” The music is deafening. He has to shout to be heard. I’m guessing he realizes we can’t very well converse on the dance floor, because he grabs my arm and pulls me into the long hallway leading to the bathrooms.
“If you hadn’t ignored me this whole time,” I manage, jerking my arm from his grip when we reach the end of the deserted hallway, “maybe there wouldn’t be a problem.” The words are choked with fury and embarrassment. And need. A whole lot of need. “The only reason I came out was so we could hang out. Instead, you abandoned me while you and Travis got all cozy on the dance floor.”
It’s almost funny how comical his shock is. Almost. “Logan, you’re the one who wanted to come with me. I never said I was going to spend my time paying attention to you. You’re a big boy. You can entertain yourself.”
Oh, that drives me up a wall.
“And that kiss back there?” His eyes are hot enough to sear me, but I’m not sure if it’s from anger or desire. Maybe some combination of both. “That was out of line.”
Blood roars in my ears. I know he’s right, but it’s not the answer I want to hear. I can’t think straight. My head is foggy. “Why? Why was it out of line? I wanted to do it. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because you’re straight and I’m gay, that’s why!” He lifts his arms, drops them.
I try to keep the exasperation from my tone. I mean, he’s not wrong. “Well, who says I can’t be attracted to men? It’s obvious I’m attracted to you.”
“Logan.” He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “You’re not attracted to me. There’s no way you are.”
That’s where he’s wrong. Heat rips through me at the memory of our tongues brushing. Years ago, that tongue gave me pleasure in the closet at a house party. I step closer, forcing Austin back against the wall, forcing him to drop his arms and look at me. Fear flares in his eyes. We’re tucked into a small alcove, mostly hidden.
Leaning forward, I brush my mouth to his. His green eyes glitter. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t push me away either. I can feel the tension vibrating through him, feel the strain in his limbs of holding back. I fight a smile. It seems I’m not the only one who wants this.
I do it again, parting my lips slightly so they sink against his. I pull back, and he says in a warning tone, “Logan.”
“Austin.” We’re staring at one another. What’s happening right now is a change in motion, and there’s too much momentum for it to stop. A part of me knows that if I go any further, things can’t go back to the way they were. I’m not sure if I want them to.
“You’re drunk,” he says, a quaver in his voice.
Not drunk enough.
This time, I close the gap with more force, and our mouths slide together. It’s warm, wet heat tasting of beer and mint, and the taste pulls me under. After a moment, his mouth opens beneath mine, tentative. Our tongues twine and curl around each other, and my dick twitches at the desire building under my skin, spreading through my already overheated body. Austin is a wall of heat against my chest. Heat and strength and solidity. One of his blond curls brushes my cheek, and I take great pleasure in twining my fingers through the tangle, tugging him even closer. He radiates tension. His hands are fists at his sides.
The kiss deepens. He still doesn’t move. That’s fine. I’ll wear him down slowly. I never back down from a challenge, especially when I know I’m right.
Then, it’s like Austin suddenly comes alive, because the kiss goes from slow and soft to hungry and deep before I have time to prepare myself. It’s all teeth and lips crashing together, deep strokes of my tongue, and his. Austin’s chest rumbles with a groan. I swallow it down.
