Plan B (6 page)

M
Y
EARS
and nose were numb by the time we made it to the dorm. Neither Lance nor I really said much, both hunched over to block the bitter wind and hurrying to get out of the cold. I was thankful when Lance pushed the door to the entryway open and held it for me; I was too cold to even pull my hands from my pockets. Every muscle in my body was tense and my jaw ached from clenching it so tightly to stop my teeth from chattering. I sighed heavily in relief as a warm blast of air surrounded me as soon as I was inside, and only then did I pull my hands from my pockets and start to vigorously run them up and down my arms.

“Jesus Christ! Talk about blue balls,” I complained.

I shoved open the door to the stairs with my shoulder and ran up the flight of stairs to the second floor. I searched my pockets until I found the key to my room as I hurried down the hall. I needed a hot shower, hot cocoa, and a warm bed. Now! I had been so focused on getting out of my cold clothes and into a steamy shower that I forgot about Lance until I opened the door to my room.

“Uh, come on in.”

“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind.” He unbuttoned his coat and shrugged out of it. “I won’t stay long, just need to warm up a bit before I head back.”

As he cupped his hands together and blew inside them to warm them up, his eyes scanned the small room and he obviously was able to tell which side belonged to whom. It wasn’t that difficult. Bo had the boring nondecorated side. Ugly plain-brown bedspread, desk perfectly organized and uncluttered. Not a single poster or picture on the wall above his bed. Mine? My side was frickin’ awesome. Theater masks, bright boas in pink, purple, and yellow, collage of photos of my different performances. And if that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the makeshift desk/vanity covered with makeup, hair supplies, and jewelry certainly was. Lance sat on Bo’s bed, set his coat next to him, and ran his hands along his thighs.

I pulled off my own coat and threw it on my bed. “What do you mean, before you head back?” I asked and flipped on the little space heater I kept next to my bed.

“I left my car back at the party.”

“Why the hell did you do that? It’s frickin’ cold out. Or didn’t you notice?”

“You said you wanted to walk.” He shrugged and picked at a loose thread on his jeans.

I just stood and studied him, trying to figure out if he was for real. He barely knew me and yet he’d shown up to my show, came to the party even after his date bailed on him, and now he’d walked me across campus in freezing temperatures when he had a car? He either really liked me or the guy was totally wacked.

“What? I just wanted to make sure you made it back okay.”

I sat back on my bed, forearms resting on my knees, and stared at the floor, letting his statement sink in. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure this guy out. I looked up at him. “I haven’t decided if you are a nice guy or a total fucking weirdo.”

Lance’s lip curled into a slight smile. “A little of both, I guess.”

“Uh yeah. That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“Oh, like you’re not a little weird. I mean, dude, you’re wearing fake eyelashes.”

Okay, he had me there. “Point taken.” I batted said eyelashes at him, which made his smile grow. I liked his smile—his whole face lit up with its appearance. “But at least I’m not the one who zones out and gets all freaky while daydreaming.” I gave him a poignant look. “Care to share what made you freaky?”

Lance shook his head, his chilled cheeks going a deeper shade of red. “Just stuff.”

Oh, damn, was he cute when he blushed. And now that I didn’t have to try and pretend I wasn’t looking at him, I started to feel a little more at ease, enough to want to tease him. “Naughty stuff?” I prodded.

“Just stuff,” he repeated, suddenly very interested in my wall décor. “Those are great pictures,” he said pointing toward the collage. Now I was really intrigued, but it didn’t appear I’d be getting much more on the subject out of him, at least not at the moment, and I wanted a hot shower more than I wanted to push him. But we
would
be coming back to this subject in the very near future. I stood and went to the closet. “I need a hot shower,” I said as I grabbed some sweats and a T-shirt as well as my toiletry bag from the shelf.

When I stepped out of the closet, Lance had kicked off his shoes and was now sprawled out on the bed, propped up on pillows with his hands behind his head, a study of someone totally laid-back. I arched my brows at him. “Make yourself at home.”

“Cool.” He nodded toward the flat screen Bo had attached to the wall. Lord knows the man had to have something decent to watch his
Star Trek
twenty-four-volume box set on. “Mind if I watch some TV while you’re gone?”

“Help yourself. The remote’s in the top drawer of the desk.” I pointed at Bo’s desk and grabbed my towel from its hook. “I’ll be right back.”

Lance didn’t respond, just rolled over, pulled open the drawer, and grabbed the remote. I wasn’t sure how I felt about leaving him in my room alone. What if he started digging through my stuff? Found my naughty box, the giant dildo? I groaned silently at the thought. I knew I should have thrown that damn thing away. No, I am not a size queen; it was a joke, a big dick award from Lee after one of my performances. The last first impression you want to give someone is that you’re into dicks the size of a man’s forearm, but…. I glanced at the reclining Lance then to the closet where I’d hidden the box. Torn. I really wanted a shower, and the way he’d stretched out on Bo’s bed, it looked as if he was making himself comfortable for the night.
Screw it
. I rushed out of the room and hurried down the hall. The sooner I got my shower, the sooner I’d be able to get back and figure out Lance’s angle. I admit I was very much intrigued.

When I returned to my room, damp but minus the cold ache that had settled into me earlier, thankfully, Lance was still in his comfy position and didn’t look as if he’d moved. I cringed as I heard “Beam me up, Scotty” blaring from the flat screen. Great, another Trekkie. “Please don’t tell me you like this shit?” I asked while running the towel over my wet hair.

Lance didn’t immediately respond. His eyes wandered down my body, that mischievous grin of his curling his top lip as his eyes roamed, and I shuddered. When his eyes finally met mine, my breath hitched at how dark his eyes had turned. Had they really darkened with lust or was it my vanity and ego making me see things that weren’t there? Not sure about the answer to that, but sadly I think it was the latter.

“Nope, it was already set up to play. By the way, your cell phone was chirping.”

“Thanks.” I hung up my towel and rummaged in my coat pocket until I found my cell, trying my best not to show how he had affected me. I flipped open my phone. A text from Bo read:
Don’t wait up. See you tomorrow.

“Bo’s not coming back tonight, is he?”

I spun around and glared at Lance. “You so did not check my phone.”

He held his hands up, like he was ready to defend against attack. “Hell no! I got a text from Katie letting me know she and Bo were pulling an”—he made the sign for quotation marks with his fingers—“all-night study session. Didn’t realize that was what they called it these days.” He chuckled.

Relieved that Lance hadn’t been snooping, or at least I didn’t feel as if he had, I set my cell on the vanity, crawled up on my bed, and sat Indian-style with my back against the wall, facing him. “So what’s your story?” I asked, not wasting any time in satisfying my curiosity. Lance still made me all, I don’t know, weird, but in my own room, I felt a little bit more in control of myself.

He hit the Mute button on the remote and rolled over onto his side, cheek resting against his palm, propping his head up. “Whatcha mean?”

“Was it your idea to come to the show tonight or your date’s?”

“Mine.”

I cocked my head at him. “You ever been to a musical before tonight?”

“No.”

“Not even in high school? Maybe junior high?”

He shook his head slightly. “No. Why?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “So why the sudden interest in musicals? Better question, why the sudden interest in the faggot friend of your sister’s boyfriend?”

He pursed his lips, gaze turning cold. “I don’t like that word.”

“Which one, musical or faggot?”

Lance narrowed his eyes as if I’d offended him but didn’t respond.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you and your jock friends don’t use that description all the time. Its use, I’m sure, is in the Macho Jock handbook and mandatory for club members.”

Yeah, I was being a mean little prick, but really? I knew how guys acted when they all got together, and seeing Lance act like he was the one offended by the derogatory slur just sort of irritated the hell out of me. Actually, I think it wasn’t just his reaction to my word choice but also the uncertainty and confusion I’d been feeling that was finally getting to me. It just rather bubbled up to the surface at that moment. Straight dudes do not suddenly start liking musicals and following around gay dudes for no reason. I didn’t believe his story about wanting to get to know me because of Katie and Bo, and if he wasn’t gay, was he setting me up for some kind of prank? Perhaps a bashing?

Lance sat up, feet on the floor, and glared at me. “Well, I don’t,” he said adamantly. “Why are you acting like such an asshole?”

I glared right back. “Why are you here?”

Lance’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at the floor. “I told you, I just—”

“Cut the bullshit. There is more to it than just wanting to get to know me because your sister is dating my friend, and if there isn’t, that’s some scary mafia kind of shit. You plan to make me an offer I can’t refuse? Horse head in my bed if I don’t keep my friend in line?”

Lance chuckled at that and lifted his head. “Uh, no.”

“That’s a relief. So….”

Lance flopped back on the bed, shifting until he was in the same position as before, head propped up on his hand. “You telling me there’s some reason I shouldn’t want to get to know you?”

“Please! I’m fabulous. But in my experience, straight jocks aren’t usually smart enough to figure that out.” I ruffled my damp hair as I rolled my eyes. “Must be all those muscles taking up the necessary blood the brain needs.”

“Hey! Not all jocks are like that.”

“Oh, really? How many of your football buddies would be seen with me?”

“Well.” Lance’s brow creased. “I don’t know them all, but I’m sure some of them would.”

“Do you know any, personally?” I pressed.

“I don’t know, I haven’t asked them.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“What?” Lance shifted appearing to be uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

“I’m just saying that, in my experience, most jocks aren’t secure enough with their masculinity to be seen with a gay guy. Heaven forbid someone think them gay.” I shrugged. “I just think it’s pretty stupid.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Lance seemed to relax a little.

The silence stretched out and as I sat there watching him I realized he hadn’t actually answered my question of why he was here. Why he had gone out of his way to walk me home, unless…. “Have you ever been with a guy, Lance?”

“No!”

“Ever thought about it or fantasized about being with a guy?”

Lance’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “No.”

Lance had been quick with his answer when I’d asked him if he’d been with a guy, but I knew he was lying about not thinking about it by the way he’d hesitated. “Bullshit. Not even when you were younger?”

“You always this bold?”

A shiver ran through me as the heat from the shower had worn off. I pulled the covers back and slid beneath them, lying on my side, one hand beneath my pillow, before I answered. “Pretty much. I don’t believe in beating around the bush. So have you?”

He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to answer my question, if at all. I was interested in what Lance was hiding, but now that I was warm and stretched out in my bed, the weariness I’d felt earlier came back in a rush. My eyes were suddenly heavy and I had to struggle to keep them open.

“Once,” he said quietly.

My eyes flew open wide. I hadn’t expected that. Well, I had suspected that he’d been at least attracted to a man before, but I hadn’t thought he’d admit it. “Do tell.”

Lance’s expression was neutral, but he couldn’t hide the color that had infused his cheeks. “Some buddies of mine took me to a strip club up in Canada for my nineteenth birthday.”

“You went to a strip club, like with naked chicks dancing all around, and you were checking out the guys? Dude, you are so gay.” Lance shot me a dirty look, and I had to bury my head under the pillow to muffle my laughter until I could get myself under control.

“Fuck you. It was one of the dancers I got all hot and bothered about, thank you very much.”

“Sorry.” Another snort of laughter escaped me and I covered my mouth with my hand.

“She had the most amazing legs and ass I’d ever seen.” He rolled onto his back, hands held out from his chest as if they were cupping boobs. “And the most amazing set of knockers.”

“I get the picture. So what does your trip to a strip club and falling for one of the dancers have to do with my question?”

“I’m getting to it.” Lance stared up at the ceiling while he spoke, like he was remembering it. “The whole night was, like, surreal. Here I was in a club, drinking legally for the first time, thinking I’m all badass, ya know?”

“Mmm hmm.” The heat in the room only added to my comfort and I snuggled further into my bed.

“So we’re watching these girls pole dancing and I’m drinking like a fish. Then my friends, they get this chick whose mini jean skirt I’ve been stuffing money into all night to give me a lap dance. I was fucking intimidated as hell, I’m not really an exhibitionist, but I was not about to say no. Here I was this kid and this hot chick was rubbing all over me right there in front of everyone.”

I pulled the covers up around me tighter. Lance’s story with him and some chick wasn’t really what I wanted to hear about. I was warm and snuggly and my pillow was cradling my head just right, muscles completely relaxed, and I was beginning to drift off again.