Out

by Cara Dee

  “There’s one shirt I already know I wanna return,” I said. ’Cause I didn’t do shiny, and the button-down I was talking about was green and shiny. So, so shiny.

  Henry found that funny, and he couldn’t contain the chuckles anymore. I huffed again and snatched up all the bags, ready to dump it all downstairs and weed out the crazy threads. It hadn’t escaped me that Martin had slipped a lot of shit into the carts when he thought I wasn’t looking.

  “Five stores,” I stated. “If I fall asleep on my feet tonight, it’s your friend’s fault.”

  “Noted.” He smirked faintly, though the humor faded when I opened the door to the back office. “One thing, Zach. I have suffered through one shopping spree too many with Martin. And yes, there is, without a doubt, much you’ll end up returning. But keep this in mind: he doesn’t shop for your body. He shops for your personality.” His next smile held traces of fondness—the affection he carried for Martin. “Even if a shirt looks ridiculous, please try it on. You might surprise yourself with what you see in the mirror.”

  I furrowed my brow, unsure of what he meant, but I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he echoed. “The upstairs is yours—I won’t disturb you. But if my computer goes off, would you mind letting me know? I get notifications when Ty makes posts on social media.”

  “Of course,” I replied automatically. His words rummaged around in my head as I went up the stairs. Again, it was easy to forget the main reason I was here. For Henry, it was probably impossible to forget.

  I had to give Martin credit for allowing two pairs of black jeans to leave the store. They were skinny and tighter than what I was used to, but I liked them.

  The rest was…new.

  There was a full-length mirror on the wall between the bathroom and the sleeping nook, and I stood there while I tried on the new outfits. Eagle was watching me, and I didn’t know why I kept talking to him.

  “This is too much.” I grimaced at my reflection. “Too ridiculous. I tried it.” I couldn’t do pastel colors. The light green belonged to babies, possibly as wallpaper in a nursery. I pulled it off and tossed it in the return pile on the bed. Next was a dark blue tee, and at first, it looked good enough. “Oh God.” Then, not so much. The V-neck was too much V. It was practically plunging. I shook my head quickly.

  Before I picked up another shirt, I caught myself in the reflection. I straightened and cocked my head. The skinny jeans rode low and hugged my form like a second skin. My exposed torso… I splayed my hand across my stomach. I was skinny, wasn’t I? I had muscle definition. Sliding my hand higher, I ghosted it over my chest. No hair. Did I want more definition? Maybe. I couldn’t tell. However, I shouldn’t drop a single pound. My hips were narrow, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like—what it would feel like—to have Henry behind me. His hands traveling up my sides.

  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I wanted from him. He seemed careful, kind, and gentle in nature. There was definitely an air of caution to him. Like he was holding back and didn’t say what was on his mind.

  I liked the kindness. If I concentrated really hard, I could picture a warm kiss on my neck. His breath gliding over my skin, lips soft yet demanding. I swallowed hard, the image too enticing.

  If he cupped my junk, I’d blow in a minute.

  “Shit.” I stared into the mirror again. My eyes looked darker, wilder. I liked it. I wanted to see the same indecency in his. Because I didn’t only want it kind and gentle. I fantasized about filth that made me flush. I wanted to be exposed and revealed and vulnerable and, and, and fucking taken. Swept off my feet, out of control, ravaged.

  There were fantasies locked inside me. I couldn’t tell what they were of; I just had this feeling. With an ordinary and mundane life like mine, I craved emotions that were foreign to me. I wanted to be pushed, I realized. Out of my comfort zone, away from the conventional.

  I wanted to try something weird.

  Weird for me, anyway, which wouldn’t take much.

  I needed a new list. A list for coming out as…whoever I was. A list of things to explore and discover. Or, fuck that, I needed a diary where I could gush about all the new things. Not that I’d gush about shopping.

  Grabbing another shirt, I held it up for inspection. It was another V-neck tee, this one less showy. It was soft and the darkest purple, and it felt good on my skin once it was on.

  This one was a winner, though I could see what Martin spoke about now. I wore a lot of dark colors. Sifting through the pants he’d bought for me, I found another pair of skinny jeans. They were faded gray and almost threadbare. If they didn’t still have the tag on them, I would’ve thought they were old.

  Fuck, I liked these. I was wearing this tonight.

  “Henry, you downstairs?” I called from the stairs. I’d just come out of the shower when his computer dinged next to the couch.

  “Just about to close up. Something wrong?” His voice was far away.

  “You got an alert.” I waited for him to acknowledge he’d heard me, and then I returned to the bathroom. I left the door open so the fog would clear from the mirror in there.

  I had twenty minutes to get ready. Martin and I had exchanged numbers during the hellish shopping trip, and he’d texted to tell me he was calling an Uber at eight.

  The fifth shopping bag was the most intimidating one, I was learning. Not only had he neglected to tell me he’d bought some accessories, but he’d bought hair products and a lotion too. I’d never used lotion before, though it was easy enough to apply. Plus, it smelled good.

  The accessories were next level. I picked out a leather cuff and decided to leave the rest for another time.

  A shadow flashed by; Henry had come up, and he headed for the computer. I tightened the towel around my hips and ran my fingers through my damp hair. Clueless here too. What the fuck was I supposed to do? My hair had a life of its own. Unless there was a funeral, I didn’t mess with it.

  I gave up. The clothes and the cuff would work for tonight. It was my first time.

  Boxers on, deodorant on, new jeans on, then the tee. Reminded how soft and comfortable the formfitting clothes were, I made a mental note to bug Martin about paying for my own shit. I’d tried and failed a dozen times, but it didn’t feel right that he was footing the bill. He’d said it was partly for him; he hadn’t been able to do this for someone in a long time. Even so…we’d just met, and I was a grown man.

  I slapped on the leather cuff and exited the bathroom, nearly stumbling into Henry on the way.

  “Sorry.” I sidestepped before I could make impact.

  “No worries—” He stopped short and looked down at me, at my clothes, and he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

  “Is it not okay?” If I’d fucked up, I was gonna need some serious help. “I thought it looked all right.”

  “No, no, it’s…” He shook his head, only to let out a low laugh and scrub a hand over his jaw. His laugh wasn’t necessarily humorous. It was the kind of laugh I exhaled when it was either that or crying. Henry gave me a small smile. “You look very handsome, Zach.”

  “Oh. Good.” The relief was immense. “You had me worried.”

  He laughed a little again, and there was another head shake. “I doubt you’ll be paying for your own drinks tonight.” He checked his watch while I savored my ego boost. Fuckin’ A. “Speaking of, I should get showered and dressed. Martin texted you, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “Great. I’ll be down soon.”

  “Okay.” I moved out of the way and grabbed my wallet and phone before heading downstairs. Since I had some time to kill, I thought I’d make an effort to see if Eagle was good or evil. Not for the first time, he’d followed me down the stairs, and I just barely beat him to the chair in the corner. He sat down in front of me, observing and flicking his tail.

  “I know this is usually your seat.” I leaned back and clasped my hands over my stomach. “Henry thinks I won’t pay f
or my drinks. Any comments?”

  Eagle chose that moment to leave. Great. He snuck into the bathroom; maybe he had his litter box there. I’d get to know him some other time, then. I had other things to consider, anyway. Namely, about the drinks. Wasn’t that something the aggressor, for lack of a better word, did? I’d only had a couple relationships, and I’d been the one paying. Same for the handful of hookups I’d had. I was the one walking up to someone and offering them a drink.

  I hoped it was okay to enjoy both. When I tried watching gay porn, the bottom role appealed to me the most, but not exclusively. Far from it.

  Did Henry see me as a bottom? I pinched my lips, slightly worried I’d make a fool of myself. I was going into this blind, with no clue of the protocol. I didn’t even know what to expect.

  Having no desire to overthink it, I pulled out my phone and distracted myself by sending Mattie a text.

  Hope everything is okay. If you’re going out tonight, remember to be careful and text me before you go to bed. Look after Ty too, please?

  I sent a message to Nan too.

  Sending hugs from a scorching hot LA. (Saw this curse online and thought you’d like it: twatnozzle.)

  I snickered to myself, then saw Mattie had responded.

  Ty’s grandparents are out of town. He’s having some people over. Nothing big. Will be careful.

  Knowing I could trust him made it easy. He was no saint. He’d come home plastered a few times, and I’d lectured him once or twice about safe sex when he pulled the stupid excuse, “But she’s on birth control!” Didn’t fucking matter. Other than that, though, he was a good kid.

  It was almost eight o’clock, so I stood up as Eagle left the bathroom.

  “Thanks for the chat,” I said dryly and left the store. Martin was locking up his shop as I stepped outside, and he was certainly dressed for a night out. He wore a navy-blue three-piece, sans jacket, and looked damn nice. I liked the vest thing.

  He evidently approved of my outfit too, judging by the wide smile. “Look at you, honey. This is promising for brunch tomorrow.” He winked, then checked his watch. “Car will be here in two. Is Henry about done?”

  “I think so.”

  He nodded. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes.” I’d gotten that twisty stomach feeling again when I’d opened the fridge to see a prepared meal for me. Henry had made lasagna at some point, and I’d only needed to reheat it. There’d been a note with my name and everything. “So, where are we going?”

  “A friend recommended a new place on Fourth Street,” he answered. “It’s in Santa Monica.”

  That didn’t tell me much. LA was a confusing city, but I was ready to have some fun and see what was out there. Though, to be honest, I had a hard time believing anyone would catch my attention more than Henry had.

  The man in question appeared a few seconds later, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. Again. Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick. Flip-flops and cargos had been replaced by charcoal dress pants and a simple white button-down. And, as he locked the door, fuck me if I couldn’t see how nicely he filled those pants. His ass… Ha. Good luck, Santa Monica men.

  “Are we ready?” Henry walked over, hands in his pockets.

  Oh, I’m ready.

  Five

  I want to marry this purple drink

  It was gonna take a while to get used to the distances between everything in LA. It was a quarter to nine by the time we arrived, and the bar was packed. A Rhianna remix blared from the speakers, seductive and heavy, and I barely heard Martin when he said he’d found us a table.

  Holy shit. I was struggling to take it all in. The crowd seemed to be around my age, with some older and some younger. The ceiling was high, and everything was painted black. Except for the accents. Multicolored shards, bulbs, and other glass shapes hung from the ceiling and cast a spectrum of colored shadows in the spotlights, catching in the smoke that poured out from somewhere. There was a dance floor, albeit a small one, and the rest of the floor was filled with round tables—no barstools. People weren’t here to sit around. Except for those who’d managed to snag a booth along the western wall.

  I had no clue how Martin had done it.

  The music pumped through my system, causing my pulse to speed up.

  The sleek leather booths varied in all colors, and I slid in next to Henry.

  “You like this?” Martin leaned forward over the table to be heard.

  I nodded and realized I was grinning.

  There were mostly men in here, though plenty of women too. Martin had explained in the car that gay men and straight women tended to share the same space.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.” I leaned forward a bit too.

  He waved me off with a smile, and then a waiter arrived. I eyed the blond up and down, only to check out other guys nearby. I wanted to get a sense of what people wore on a night out. And they were making it difficult for me. I saw ratty jeans and suits, slacks and glitter, makeup and ruggedness. All walks of life, I guessed, as long as they could pay fifteen bucks for a drink.

  The waiter and Martin exchanged words, and then he took our orders. Martin ordered for me, Henry went for an Old Fashioned—explaining in detail how he wanted it made, which I thought was funny—and Martin got something with tequila. Most of all, I enjoyed how Henry had to lean into me to be heard by the waiter.

  The two top buttons had been left undone on the crisp shirt that hugged his torso so well, and I bit my lip. I wanted to touch his chest hair that teased the top of the opening.

  Once the waiter left, Martin explained to us that the last drink from the wait staff was ordered at nine, so after that, we’d order at the bar. Then he continued with, “That’s where you’re heading soon, Zach. With us around, no one will approach you.”

  So?

  I looked over at the bar. Could I even get there? There were people everywhere.

  “I can pay for my own drinks, Martin,” I said.

  He chuckled, the sound drowned out by the music. “But you want pretty things to notice you, don’t you?”

  I wanted Henry to notice me. Glancing up at the man next to me, I tried to gauge his mood and opinion on the whole thing, and he merely smiled encouragingly. Well, then.

  On the other hand, he had no idea I’d jacked off thinking about him in the shower today. I needed to learn how to flirt with a man. He’d told me I was handsome; couldn’t I pay him a compliment too?

  I faced Martin again. “How do I show my interest?”

  “Now we’re talking!” He clapped his hands together once. “This part’s easy. Men are easy.”

  “A smile and eye contact will be enough for you,” Henry told me. “You’ll be fine.”

  Yeah, for some reason, I didn’t think that would be enough for him. He was beginning to strike me as a man I’d have to beat over the head with my advances before he got it. I hoped I was wrong.

  “A hand on the leg works too,” Martin said with another hand gesture of his. It was always the same little wave, dismissive and regal. “There’s no mistaking the intentions.”

  Perfect.

  My heart jackhammered in my rib cage before I summoned the courage to slide a hand onto Henry’s thigh. “Like this?” My mouth ran dry.

  Henry tensed at the contact, his eyes flashing with disbelief and something dark, but it was gone in a second. He nodded stiffly, his smile equally forced.

  I narrowed my eyes and huffed internally. He didn’t get it. He thought I was demonstrating. So I left my hand there while the waiter returned with our drinks.

  “What is this?” I laughed and stared at my concoction, served in a tall glass with two thin straws. It was purple—not burgundy or dark like my shirt, but light purple.

  “Try it,” Martin encouraged and took a sip of his own drink.

  I took a tentative taste and felt the flavors of violet and raspberry and vodka exploding in my mouth. It was fucking delicious. I’d dump beer for this treat. I’d marry it. The afte
rtaste of ice cream made me register vanilla too.

  “Good, yes?” Martin grinned. “Now, show us your type. There’s eye candy everywhere. Who catches your eye?”

  Besides the obvious, the hunk next to me? All right, I could do this. Taking another swallow of my drink, I craned my neck and peered out over the crowd. Of course, with my sitting down and most people standing, I only saw those close to us.

  There was one guy my age who had bedroom eyes. My mouth quirked up when his gaze met mine, but I continued looking. There. A man in a suit. He and his companions had a bar table, all of them having a good time. His smile was sexy and reached his eyes. He was tall too. Perhaps a little slimmer than Henry.

  “Him.” I nodded at him. “Black suit, blue shirt.”

  It hit me that I wouldn’t have looked at him twice if I saw him on the street at home. He was handsome, sure, yet I’d somehow ignored everyone who didn’t stand out. I’d only paid attention to the bolts of lightning, mainly because they’d stolen it. But there was something to be said about thunder too. They rolled in slowly and took over the skies.

  “Oh, really.” Martin looked away from the man and back to me, one brow arched. “A little old for you, no?”

  Bingo.

  My thumb traced the muscle in Henry’s thigh, and I shook my head. “Nope.” I wished I had the guts to look up at Henry right now. I felt a tremor going through his leg before he made an effort to relax.

  “Well, this is interesting.” Martin took a slow sip of his drink, whereas Henry downed half of his.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” Henry said. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Dammit. I slid out of the booth but didn’t offer him too much space. Actually, there wasn’t much space to give to begin with. He followed smoothly and stood up, and I finally mustered up the courage to look him in the eye. There was definitely heat in them this time, and my cheeks felt warmer. Tension ticked in his jaw. His brows drew together, and I disliked the confusion mingling with the heat. He couldn’t believe it, huh?