Missed Connections (15 page)

But Pete is family. A part of me knows that if Jack and I dated and then broke up, I’d lose Pete too. That’s a scenario that can never happen. Pete means too much to lose because of casual sex. Trouble is, the more I hang out with Jack, the more I want.

Looking everywhere but Jack’s face is easier tonight since the club is one we’ve never been to before. Honestly, I can’t see us coming back very often. The club has a calculated roughness that screams “bar fight.” Not to judge the clientele by their covers, but the body language is tense for an opening night when we’re all supposed to be having a good time celebrating the owner’s success. Or maybe I’m just projecting my tension onto everyone else.

Fortunately Jack leaves to play his set a few minutes later. Right away the music improves.

“I love this song.” I tap Pete’s arm. “Dance?”

“You go ahead. I’ll watch the table and get a head start on the drinking.”

“Do a shot for me.”

“I will.” He puffs out his stomach and pats it. “I’m drinking for two!”

I grin and ease through the crowd to the dance floor with the martini Jack bought me. This early in the night it’s a bit sparsely populated, which is perfect. More room for me. The music combines with my drink and loosens my movements with each song that passes. Man, it’s sweltering in here. Pete was right—I should have worn a skirt.

Still, the music is amazing, and I don’t care if I sweat my face off. I’m not here to impress anyone. I’m here to cut loose. Pete joins me for a while with a fresh drink just as I get thirsty. Jack plays the best music. I love these guys.

Jack points at me from the booth, and I realize I’ve been dancing while staring directly at him for a few minutes.

I wave, then turn away. I’m the one who said we couldn’t be a thing, and here I am violating that boundary—well, maybe not violating it, but definitely sticking my toe over the line.

Pete is talking to some guy whose pants are too tight. He touches the guy’s arm—asking him to dance—but the guy shakes his head and walks away. He sits at a table full of guys—none as cute as Jack or Pete. One of them is even wearing a trucker hat.

Pete notices me and weaves his way over. “He was only a seven anyway.”

“What, he didn’t want to dance with you? Does he know who we pretend we are?”

“Nope. Denied. Looks like I’m going home alone.” He’s slurring his
s
’s.

“How many have you had? You should get some water.”

“I need some air.” Pete is really sweaty, and his limbs are clumsier than normal. He clearly drank too much too soon and is feeling it in this heat.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t answer, just heads toward one of the exits, but if he goes out that door, he won’t get back in without having to go through the line again. I sigh and shake my head, walking over to the exit with my purse. I’ll pour Pete into a cab, and if the line’s too long, I’ll grab a cab home too.

A familiar-looking guy in a green-and-black trucker cap pushes past me.

“Rude much?” I snap.

He glares at me over his shoulder and hurries toward the exit.

Maybe he has to puke or get some air…but uneasiness slithers around in my gut, and I hurry to follow.

The door swings shut behind me as I hear him demand, “Are you a fucking fag?”

I can’t have heard that right. This is New York, not some backwoods, redneck watering hole. Disbelief turns to rage and a blatant disregard for my own safety when I realize he’s addressing
Pete
. I step in front of Trucker Hat, stopping him with my body as he keeps striding toward Pete. “What does it matter if he is?”

He tries to get by me, but I block him. Luckily he’s not as cool with beating up women as he is with gay men. He doesn’t push me out of his way or manhandle me at all, just tries to get around my body. “Because I’m going to kick his ass, that’s why,” Trucker Hat yells over my shoulder.

Is this really happening? A strange wooden sensation invades my legs, but I stand my ground, fear of what will happen if he catches up to Pete keeping me light on my toes. “And what’s that going to prove? How does that make you cool or strong?” I throw a glance over my shoulder, but Pete’s still walking. He’s so drunk he doesn’t even realize this asshole has targeted him. If this guy gets past me, Pete’s screwed. There’s no way he can defend himself in his condition.

“He’s been cruising or what-the-fuck-ever all night. He asked one of my
friends
to dance.” Trucker Hat’s eyes are swimming in the liquor he must have drank earlier, but that’s no excuse for this.

I need to get his attention on me so Pete can get away. Where are the fucking bouncers?
Run, Pete. God—anyone up there—please let him get away safely!
I smirk up at the drunken bigot, even though my heart is pounding so hard it’s making my neck throb. “Jealous? What, did he hand your ass to you on the dance floor and impress whatever chick you were trying to roofie?”

“That little fag’s getting his ass kicked. He asked one of my friends to dance.”

I’d laugh if I wasn’t so livid. “What, and you were jealous?”

His hands ball into fists and he takes a step toward me.

“You looking for a fight?” The voice behind me isn’t familiar, and I turn to see who’s joining me to protect Pete, insanely grateful to not be alone anymore. It’s three guys in their late twenties who look like they live at the gym eight days a week. The tallest looks like he should be a cast member on
Jersey Shore
, built and groomed, and right now he looks livid. But I think it was the bearded redhead who spoke. He stands slightly in front of the others, hands on his hips.

The dark-haired one smiles at me and jerks his head. “Go to your friend.”

Four more guys come spilling out the door and take positions by Trucker Hat’s side. “What’s up, Trent?”

Oh God. Is there about to be a brawl in the alley? The door opens again.
Not more bigots, please.
But it’s Jack.

“Sarah?”

“I have to check on Pete.” I turn and sprint down the alley on shaky legs. By the time I turn the corner and find him, he’s opening a taxi door. “Pete!”

He turns. “Hey, Sarey. How’s it hanging?”

He doesn’t know. He has no idea what happened, and I hope he never does. “Pretty good.”

He squints at me. “How often do you wash your hair?”

What does that have to do with anything? “Every couple of days?”

“What do you do the rest of the time, pee through a straw?” He cackles at his own joke. “Come on, that was funny. Why aren’t you laughing?”

Because someone just wanted to hurt you for being who you are, and that makes me want to vomit with fear and rage.
“Just, um… You left without saying good-bye. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re the sweetest.” He flails forward and hugs me before flopping into the backseat. “You wanna share a cab?”

“No. I’m going to hang for a little while longer.”
And make sure Jack’s okay.
I shut the door, and the cab pulls away. I jump as a warm hand gently touches my shoulder.

“It’s me.”

I turn to Jack, who’s shaking his hand. The knuckles are red, like he’s hit something. “Oh God, did you—”

“Everything’s fine. Security came and stopped it before anything really happened. Was that Pete in the cab?”

I nod. “He’s safe and fine, making jokes. Oh God, Jack.” Horror at what could have happened to Pete tonight ricochets through my hollow stomach and bounces around my legs, making my knees weak. Those bastards could have—they
would
have—hurt him, maybe worse.

Jack throws his arm around me in a half hug and pulls me close. His warmth makes me shake harder. He wraps his other arm around me too. “I saw you leave the bar after Pete but didn’t get there in time to see what happened.”

“That one guy followed him from the bar and was going to beat him up because Pete was gay. I didn’t know, but I had a bad feeling and followed them outside in time to hear the bullshit he was saying. Pete didn’t even know.”

My stiletto heels rattle against the pavement. Jack’s hard body tightens around me, as though every muscle has flexed at once.

“What happened when I left to put Pete in a cab?”

He rubs my back with long, calming strokes. “The group from the bar was going to beat on the other three guys—or try. I jumped in to help, and then the security guards came.”

With a sigh, I lean into him and clasp my arms behind his back, drawing strength from his warmth and steadiness.

“Are we in the fifties? What the hell is even happening right now?” My heart hurts for Pete, for the ugliness he never saw directed his way. Was this the first time something like this has happened to him, or the thirtieth? The three hundredth? “Has anything like this ever happened to him before?”

Jack sighs. “Not since high school.”

I squeeze my eyes so tightly to hold back the hot tears that they hurt. How would I feel, knowing a stranger wanted to literally hurt me because he thought I
might
be gay? I want to hug Pete and hold him and apologize for every asshole who ever hurt him or made him feel bad about himself just for being who he is.

Instead, I cling to Jack, trying not to let the bitterness and anger eat me alive, anchoring myself with someone who understands this angry, bewildered feeling surging through my stomach. I hold someone who probably got into a lot of fights protecting his brother in high school. Jack is an amazing person. An amazing friend. His hands coax calm from me one lazy stroke at a time.

And then when my nerves settle, I enjoy the way his body molds to mine a little more than a friend should. I want to be even closer. I want Jack.

“Will you see me home?”

“There’s no way I’ll leave you if those assholes are still around. Of course I’ll get you home.” His hand tangles in my hair, brushing errant strands away from my face. “I’ll grab us a cab.” A reckless heat flares inside me at his kindness.

Maybe my heart is off-limits. But tonight, he can have the rest of me.

Chapter 16

Not that he knows it yet. I couldn’t get the words out before the cab came and now…I choke on silence for fear of talking myself out of this. The drive seems to take forever.

I haven’t drunk enough to pretend it’s the liquor talking. While I could blame the situation or the music or my loneliness, really I just want him so badly it hurts. Not so badly I can’t think straight, because all I have are straight lines—Jack and me heading straight upstairs, straight to my bedroom, and getting him naked straight away. No, my mind is very clear about what I want.

What I need.

What I’ve been waiting to happen for years but have danced around because I cared too much about measuring up to the other girls he’s been with. Because I didn’t want to lose him as a friend and have that screw up my friendship with Pete. Because he surrounds himself with temptation just like my mom does. Because instead of caring about all the fun we could be having together, I looked at it as something that had to be “forever” when it could just be “for now.”

He sits with his arm around me, stroking my hair as the cab stops at the curb by my apartment, unaware of my decision.

Tonight, I find I don’t give a flying fuck. I just want him hard, and fast, and… “Come upstairs.”

His inhale is audible, and his eyes widen before he leans closer to me and pauses. “What?”

“I said a lot of shitty things to you, and I’m sorry for them all. But I really need you tonight, and if you’re still interested—”

My sentence is cut off beneath the urgency of his lips pressing against mine, teasing a sigh from me. His hand brushes my forearm, my shoulder, my jaw, and traces the contour of my cheek before slipping to the nape of my neck and pulling me closer, deepening the kiss.

His tongue darts into my mouth and slides across mine gently, then more aggressively when I move mine around his in a quick spiral. My fists ball his shirt at his chest, pulling the fabric, trying to bring him closer. But we’re still in the freaking cab, and why isn’t teleportation a thing, so I don’t have to break this contact to get him to my bedroom—because if this is what his kiss does to me, what’s sex with him going to be like?

I’ve got to find out. I break away from him with a gasp. “Upstairs.”

The cabbie clears his throat, and Jack throws some bills out of his wallet at him and opens his door. By the time I’ve fumbled mine open, Jack is already there. Stepping closer, he takes my hand and slams the door shut behind me.

Has an elevator ride ever taken so long? The slow circles he traces on the back of my hand with his thumb have me debating about stopping the elevator and dragging him into a stairwell to get him naked
now
, but then the elevator stops on my floor and we’re so close to my bed.

Door open, door closed, shoes were on, kick them off. No stopping to ask if he’d like something to drink. I pull him straight to the bedroom and turn to face him. His momentum crushes us together, and I press harder against him, wrap my arms around him, and grab that tight ass I’ve wanted to squeeze for years, grinding against him. This time, when my lips meet his, they’re curled into a satisfied smile because now there’s nothing stopping us but clothes and common sense.

One down.

His skin is smooth and warm beneath my hands, which I slide under the hem of his T-shirt before coaxing it over his head. Kissing down his throat and chest, lightly grazing it with my teeth, I’m rewarded with his intake of breath and his hands finding their way to my shoulders. He pulls me upright and kisses me hungrily. One hand wraps around, bending me back like a cobra, and he tangles his other hand in my hair, squeezing my body in his arms like he can’t get enough.

I want him on top of me. Now.

We’re riding the same lusty wavelength because he straightens and pulls back. “Take your shirt off. I need to see you.”

“Take your pants off,” I counter. “I need to feel you.”

His jeans hitting my floor is the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard.

“Now you.” His order is paired with hungry eyes.