Plan B (16 page)

Neither of us said a word to each other as we waited for our lunch. I occupied myself with watching the people around us as they dined, while Lance sat across from me, both hands clutching his glass, scowling at the dark-colored liquid as if he was mad at it for not being something stronger. I knew exactly whom he was mad at but continued to ignore him.

The silence continued until a plate of bubbling-over-the-sides mac and cheese was set in front of me. The first bite of cheese-strewn noodle had me practically moaning in delight. “Oh my God, this is so good.”

“Told ya,” Lance responded curtly without looking up from his lunch. “Better than the company.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

His head snapped up and he glared at me. “You’re being fucking rude and you know it,” he hissed.

“How so? I think I’m being very nice, sickly sweet even.”

“Never mind.”

I shrugged nonchalantly as if I couldn’t care less what he thought and dug into my lunch; both items Bran had suggested were amazing.

I was doing very well with the nasty looks Lance was giving me, responding to each one with a wide grin. But I admit, I probably—okay, I did—take it too far when Bran came to take our empty plates.

“Would either of you like dessert? May I suggest the caramel-glazed custard. It’s decadent, especially with a Bailey’s and coffee.”

“I’m stuffed, and I have to pass on the drink until Saturday?”

“Saving yourself for a big party?”

“More like waiting till I turn twenty-one.”

“It’s your birthday Saturday? Why didn’t I know this?” Lance grumbled.

“You didn’t ask,” I said dryly.

“Happy early Birthday. I work at the Scarlet Romeo on the weekends. Marilyn Mon’Rod does a fantastic rendition of Happy Birthday; you should stop by.”

Lance snorted.

“Thanks for the invite. I may just take you up on it.”

Bran set the bill down on the table and I snatched it up before Lance could. “I invited you for lunch,” he complained, holding out his hand for the bill.

“Yes, but I’m paying for the entertaining company you’ve provided.” It was a low blow but I knew he hadn’t enjoyed his lunch and I didn’t want to feel obligated to him in any way simply because he’d paid for lunch.

When Bran returned to the table, he handed me the leather case. “Thank you, Mr. Marshal.”

“Danny, please.” I held out my hand.

“Danny,” Bran echoed and shook my hand. “Nice meeting you too,” he said to Lance and strutted away.

I signed the first copy and took the copy beneath with Bran’s phone number. I tucked it and the receipt in my wallet with my credit card. “Ready?”

I had to rush to catch up with Lance when he jumped up and headed to the door.

As soon as we were in the car and on our way back to Ann Arbor, Lance’s brooding silence finally broke. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck all that was about?”

“What are you—”

“Cut the innocent bullshit, Danny. You sat across from me with a smirk on your face and flirted with the waiter right in front of me.”

“And?”

Lance slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. “And it was fucking rude.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” I shook a finger at him. “First of all, we are friends and occasional jerk-off buddies, nothing more. So I don’t find what I did any more rude than you playing tonsil hockey with some blonde little suburbanite in front of me.”

“Is that what all this is about? Payback?”

Was it?
Yeah, it was at first, but after thinking about it for a bit, I realized how foolish it was to be jealous or how ridiculous Lance’s response to my flirting was. Lance was simply curious. Sure, we were attracted to each other, liked what we did behind closed doors, and I had no doubt he would continue to be a JOB, but never any more than that. Even if he wanted to, Lance just wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever truly be comfortable with people knowing he was sexing it up with a dude. This was my issue, my fault that I’d allowed myself to fall for him and the impossible.

“Look. I admit I started out a little pissy after seeing you with her, but honestly, I realize just how stupid that is. I had no right to be pissy and I apologize for that.”

“And are you’re going to apologize for flirting with that guy?”

“No!” I said adamantly.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he was cute and that’s how I behave when I see an attractive man, especially one who also seems to be attracted to me. I may not have a right to be pissy about who you are seeing, but you also have no right to get upset about who I flirt with, or who I date, for that matter.”

After a long period of silence, Lance finally said, “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. We are not committed to each other, hell, Lance, we rarely hang out beyond getting together once in a while to get a nut. If we were actually dating, it would be different, but we’re not.”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t respond.

I felt totally uncomfortable for the rest of the ride back to campus. Lance never said another word on the subject, or any other subject. He kept his eyes steadily on the road, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel occasionally to the beat on the radio.

In one respect, I was glad we had our boundaries set, but I had this nettling feeling that there was more to his story with the girl than I knew. I was dying to ask him what their story or history was, but after I’d just told him it was none of his business who I dated, I’d sound like a hypocrite asking him about who he was seeing. I was still dying to know, since it would bother me to know they were in a serious relationship and he was cheating on her.

I rested my head against the window and stared out, seeing nothing at all, the prickling feeling of wrongness riding me hard. It’s one thing to be experimental, curious, or whatever it was Lance was doing with me. I’d had the fantasy once or twice before meeting Lance about being with a straight guy, and being Lance’s first experience was an ego boost. Yeah, at times it was frustrating, but it was also hot. However, I wasn’t comfortable with being the one he was cheating with. In fact, I was thinking it was time to find a new benefits buddy.

My chest tightened when I thought of not seeing Lance again, not being able to touch him…. Christ, I was falling for him, or had fallen for him, and that was so not a good thing.

Time to walk away.

By the time Lance pulled up in front of the dorm, I pretty much had myself convinced that I wouldn’t see him anymore other than when we were pushed together by Bo and Katie. Only my heart seemed to be struggling with the decision, but it was definitely outnumbered.

“Thanks for asking me to ride with you. Lunch was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.”

I hesitated, but really, there was nothing left to say. I opened the door.

“Are you going Saturday?”

“I don’t know yet, why?”

“Just curious. I’ll see you around?”

It wasn’t a statement—he was asking. Lance looked miserable, his eyes sad as he looked at me expectantly. It was as if he’d been reading my thoughts and knew what was about to happen. I honestly didn’t know if the sadness was because he’d miss me or because he knew his chapter in the book of
The Straight Boy’s Guide to Fun Gay Sex
was over, at least with this guy.

For me it was a little of both. “Sure, Lance. Talk to you later.”

T
HE
smell of diesel fuel and the constant blaring of horns were making my head throb. Standing out front of the departing passenger drop-off at Detroit Metropolitan Airport wasn’t how I planned on spending the morning of my twenty-first birthday. Unlike most parents, who retire and move to the Sunshine State, mine were retiring to the theater district in New York City. Instead of peace and quiet, sipping fancy drinks with colorful little umbrellas on the beach, they had chosen harsh winters, crowded streets, and constant noise. But at least they would be within walking distance of the theater. I just wished it hadn’t been the day of my birthday that they booked their flight for.

I had always envisioned a champagne toast at midnight, dancing, picking up the hottest man in the club, and celebrating my birthday properly all night, all morning, and well into the early afternoon. Twenty-one is a milestone. I deserved to be waking up naked and in bed with a sexy stranger. Dammit, I should have at least had a hangover, hoarse voice from singing, and aching muscles from dancing. But, no! I had to drive to my parents’ house for a quiet dinner and turn in early so I could get up at 4:00 a.m. and drive them to the airport.

I looked upward at the dark sky.
Why do you hate me?

“Thanks again, honey,” Mom said and hugged me again. “I know this isn’t how you planned on spending your birthday, but I promise we’ll make it up to you next month.”

I felt a twinge of guilt. They did so much, bent over backwards to be there for me, and here I was whining because I didn’t get laid last night. “It was a great way to spend my birthday.” I kissed her cheek and hugged her back. “Love you. Thanks again for the tickets.”

“You’re welcome.” Mom released me and grabbed her carryon bag from the curb. “Careful driving back. We’ll call you when we land.”

“Always am.” I winked at her.

Dad came around from the back of the car where he’d been pulling out their luggage and setting it on the curb for the porter to take. “Happy Birthday, son. Love you.” He pulled me into an embrace and slapped me on the back. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. Love you too.”

He pointed at me as he joined Mom. “You be careful tonight. If you get drunk, call a cab.”

I nodded and waved as I slid back into the car. I did plan on drinking tonight, but with any luck I wouldn’t be needing a cab. The vultures at the airport were watching for a space to park, and the instant I was behind the wheel, the guy in the car behind me laid on his horn. I waved again at my parents, flipped the guy off behind me just to make myself feel better, and pulled away from the curb.

While I was sitting at the first stop sign, my phone chirped. It was a message from Lance.
Happy Birthday.

I replied with a simple
Thanks.

I miss you.

I ignored that text. I missed him too, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I hadn’t liked the feelings that had come over me when I’d seen him with that girl. In that moment I realized that I was starting to fall for Lance, and I simply couldn’t afford to fall any further. I forced my thoughts away from Lance. I had to rush back, meet Lee and Cameron for brunch, nap, and then I could get ready for the real Danny Marshal Birthday Bash.

“
F
OR
the last time, no!”

“C’mon, Danny, it will be fun.” Bo’s voice was pleading through the speakerphone.

He’d been trying since the day before to get me to go to some club with him and Katie for my birthday, drinks and dinner on them. While I love Bo and Katie is a great girl, my idea of hanging with the two of them at some piano bar was not how I wanted to spend my birthday. I wanted to dance and grind. I planned on dressing to the T, drinking, hooting, hollering, and flirting my ever-lovin’ ass off, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be in a piano bar. The most decadent dinner or offers of unlimited free drinks in a straight club would not deter me. I was going to Scarlet Romeo and I doubted I’d be buying a single drink.

“Fun for who?” I asked as I carefully attached the second set of false lashes against my lid. I batted my eyes, admiring my work in the mirror.
Gorgeous.

“For all of us. It’s not just a piano bar. They have dueling pianos and Katie said they are funny and very talented.”

“No.”

“I thought you liked that kind of stuff?”

“I do,” I said, adding a little more mascara to my lower lashes. “Just not tonight. Tonight I plan on getting laid and I’m pretty sure I’ll have a better chance of that happening at the Scarlet Romeo.”

Bo huffed out a breath. “You’re such a slut.”

“Says the man who has a steady itch reliever,” I laughed.

“Do not let Katie hear you call her that, she will flip the fuck out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I gotta go, it’s a little difficult to chat and put on lip liner. We’ll do something tomorrow, just not too early, okay?”

“All right. Just be safe tonight.”

“Will do. Don’t wait up.”

I started to hit the End button when Bo added, “Hey, almost forgot to ask. What was it your parents got you?”

“Dude, they are taking me to see
Chicago
while we’re in New York.”

“Haven’t you seen it like a thousand times?”

“Not at the Ambassador Theatre. Broadway, baby!”

“And you call me a nerd.” He chuckled. “Happy Birthday, Danny.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

My hair and face perfection, I finished dressing. When I said I planned to dress to the T, I meant it. However, that doesn’t mean I was wearing anything particularly fancy or flashy. The T in this case was all about the Touch! Easy access. Low-riding jeans with a canvas belt to keep them sitting precariously on my hips, but plenty of room for fingers to brush below the waistband. I chose a black snap-up, western-style shirt with short sleeves—one good pull, and full chest exposure, baby. Six-inch heeled ankle boots, black leather and silver bracelets, and a simple leather cord necklace with a silver medallion, and I was ready.