Heaven's Ballroom

by Aiden Bates

  “That was three more times.”

  “Shut it.”

  “Did you fuck him?” he blurted out, swiveling on the couch and leaning forward with a gossip-hungry look in his eyes.

  “What do you mean, did I fuck him? I was at my midterm, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Well, by my reckoning, you left the club at eight last night. Your midterm was at nine this morning. Which gives us…” He looked to the ceiling as he counted on his fingers. “Twelve hours unaccounted for.”

  “Thirteen,” I corrected. I groaned when I saw the way it widened his grin.

  “So you’re gonna tell me that in your thirteen missing hours, you didn’t get dicked down by the hot-ass money man you left with last night even once?”

  I glanced around the apartment, taking in the rubble left from Anders’ debauching last night. Empty cans of PBR littered every surface that wasn’t already bogged down with bottles of craft beers.

  Christ. He’d been partying with hipsters. I’d be plucking ironic mustache hairs out of the drains for weeks at this rate.

  But in Anders’ desperate, undoubtedly hungover state, I realized that I had a rare opportunity as he bounced question after question off of me.

  “I didn’t say that,” I replied, gathering up beer bottles with a coy shrug.

  His eyes widened. “So you did fuck him.”

  I smirked. “Didn’t say that either.”

  “Come on, Damon. Don’t go all Schrodinger’s cat on me here. Either you fucked him or you didn’t. Has to be one, can’t be both. Spill.”

  I walked toward him and pressed the beer bottles into his chest. “Help me clean this place up and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh, that’s low. That’s dirty.”

  “Almost as dirty as Nathan—” I stopped myself, turning away dramatically. “Oh—but no. I shouldn’t say.”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll clean, God, just stop it with the teasing already.” He pouted as he rose from the couch, tiptoeing around loose streamers and discarded party hats to go grab some trash bags. “If this is what it was like for the poor bastards I was stringing on last year, I don’t know how they made it out alive.”

  “Your own medicine tasting a little bitter there, buddy?”

  He sighed, slumping back into the living room elbow-deep in a pair of yellow kitchen gloves. “Not as bitter as I’m going to be if your story about last night doesn’t end with dick.”

  Half an hour later, Anders was back on the couch in our freshly-cleaned apartment with his arms crossed over his chest like a child that had just been sent to bed without dessert.

  “Can’t believe it didn’t end in dick,” he grumbled.

  “He made me eggs,” I offered.

  “Yeah, but he didn’t fertilize them!” Anders thumped his fist down on the cushion by his thigh. “I wanted passion, dammit! Where are the steamy kisses in the rain and sloppy blowjobs in the dark?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “It didn’t even rain last night.”

  “That’s not my point.” Anders held his hand out expectantly, closing his eyes as he sighed. “Give me your phone. We’re going to text him.”

  “And say what?” Instinctively, I took a step back.

  “Hmm, I don’t know…” Anders tapped his chin in a way that told me that was a lie. “How about, ‘Dear Nathan, breakfast was delicious! How about you eat my ass for dinner? Love, Damon.’”

  “No.”

  He tried again. “‘Dear Nathan, I have the night off. Why don’t you and me get it on?’”

  “Try again.”

  “Oh, come on. Did you even get his number? Please, for the love of God, tell me you got his number.”

  “I did.” I patted my pocket, noticing the hint of pride in my voice—and the flush of heat that ran up and down my chest, pooling at my cock as I remembered the way he’d tucked the scrap of paper into said pocket. He’d slipped it right in, the cocky bastard, fingertips tapping against my thigh like he was wishing it a safe journey home.

  Anders’ eyes lit up. “Gimme.”

  I had all of a second to react before Anders dove for me, hands outstretched and grabbing at my crotch in a way that hadn’t happened since I’d dated that guy with the wrestling kink. Only this time, there was no prelude to the main event involving a forty-something-year-old Alpha trying to convince me to put on a Mexican wrestler’s mask. No, this time it was full-on warfare, no holds barred.

  I was bigger than Anders, stronger, but I was at one important disadvantage:

  He wanted it more.

  “Yesyesyes yes!” Anders hissed in delight, smooshing my face against the carpet as he withdrew the piece of paper from my pocket. My phone, he found in my coat jacket. I could only groan in defeat as he typed the number into my contacts.

  “Nathan…what’s his surname?” Anders rolled off me, darting across the room before I could reclaim what was rightfully mine.

  “Please don’t do this,” I pleaded.

  “Nathan Pleasedon’tdothis. Weird name, but it’s okay. Maybe when you two get married, he’ll take yours or something.”

  “Anders, we haven’t even kissed yet.” I stopped, realizing what I was saying. Christ, that was as good as admitting that after breakfast this morning, I was beginning to want to kiss him. “And we’re not going to. End of discussion.”

  “Actually, as you’ll see in a few minutes, it’s just the beginning.” He hopped up on the couch as I dove for him, handily evading my reach. “Do you think you’re more of a, ‘Hey, what’s up?’ or a ‘Hi, how are you?’ kind of guy?”

  “I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t text rich entitled Alphas looking for dinner dates.”

  “Dinner, huh? Good idea.” Anders typed away at the phone, bounding across the couch and onto an armchair. “But since you already did dinner last night, why don’t we say drinks instead? That way, you can feign like you’ve had too much and he’ll take you back to his apartment again.”

  “Is this really how you deal with men?” I asked, flabbergasted as I watched Anders work.

  “Eh. Used to, anyway. Became too much drama in the long run, though.”

  “Drama is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

  “Exactly—that’s why we’re only focusing on one Alpha for you, for starters. Later, we’ll get you a nice little harem going when you’re ready for something more advanced.”

  “This is already too advanced.” I slumped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands.

  “Oh, don’t be such a Mopey Marvin, Damon. I’m doing you a favor with this. Trust me.”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t.” I sighed, massaging my temples with my fingertips. Whatever high I’d been riding after doing so well on my exam was now officially gone. In its place, there was only dread left, curled up in my stomach like a cobra just waiting for the right moment to strike. “You and I have very different ideas of what constitutes as a favor.”

  “Okay, so enlighten me. What’s the worst that can happen here?” Anders sat down, perching on the top of the armchair’s stiff square back.

  “He responds and says yes,” I was quick to reply.

  “That. Is not. A bad. Thing!” Anders rolled his eyes, continuing to tap away at my screen. “He’s a sweetheart, Damon. Had you over at his apartment all to himself all night and he didn’t even try putting the moves on you? He’s a gentleman, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Just because he’s polite and handsome doesn’t mean he’s a good match for me.”

  Anders smirked. “So you think he’s handsome, huh?”

  “He’s…” I sighed, remembering the bright green of Nate’s eyes as he reassured me that I’d get to class on time this morning. “He’s okay. I guess.”

  “If you’re into the tall, dark and handsome thing, right? Seriously, Damon. He can’t be worse than any of the other guys you’ve dated. Your track record is worse than, like, Michael Jordan’s baseball career.”

  I laughed bitterly. “Gar
th Brook’s rock ‘n’ roll career.”

  “Kanye West’s political career.” Anders looked up at me, offering a sympathetic smile. “At least he doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who’s going to forget your name halfway through the date.”

  I groaned. “God, Kevin. I thought I was having a stroke when he started calling me Matt just before dessert.”

  “Can’t believe you didn’t correct him the first time he did it. And hey—at least Nathan’s not going to steal your cat or anything.”

  I groaned louder. “I mean, we don’t know that. I don’t have a cat to steal anymore.”

  “But you know what they say—your bad decisions of the past are the bricks that pave the road to your future.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Have you seen NYC construction lately? I’ll be lucky if that road’s done within the next decade, Anders.”

  “Maybe on your schedule. On mine, however…” He tossed my phone back to me, sending it up in the air with a tumble to its arc. “We’re on an expedited timetable.”

  “Anders…” I caught the phone and immediately flipped through my messages. Sure enough, there it was: a new text, just sent to Nathan Pleasedon’tdothis. “Holy shit. You really did it.”

  “You can thank me later,” he said, popping up out of the chair and moving to the kitchen with a spring in his step. “Want a beer while we wait for his answer? We’ve got some left over from last night.”

  Normally, I would’ve said no. But as I read over the text Anders had just shot Nathan—Hey, handsome. Had an awesome time last night. You free this next week? Let’s grab drinks. You’re buying.—suddenly, I felt a strong urge to see the bottom of an empty bottle.

  “Beer me, then.” I didn’t even look up as Anders raided the fridge. In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the phone.

  Part of me was hoping that some little error message would pop up. Sorry, this number is no longer in service. Please try again. It would’ve been easier that way, I knew. I could forget all about Nathan Garnet if that happened—or at least, I could start forgetting. There would be no nagging sense of doubt. No worrying about whether he liked me enough to message me back or not. No fretting about whether I was good enough—or whether this was all some kind of bizarre long con that would only come to fruition a month from now when everyone finally popped out of their hiding places and shouted “April Fools!”

  But it was the other part of me that really scared me. The other part of me that was so dangerous, I didn’t even want to admit it existed at all.

  Because the other part of me that was staring down at my phone was waiting anxiously for a little vibration. The one that meant that he’d seen my text, taken time out of his day to read it and think of a response to it to it.

  That part of me was hoping beyond hope that Nathan Garnet would actually text me back.

  “To your love life,” Anders toasted, handing me a beer and clinking the neck of his bottle against mine. “May it be as ample as Dolly Parton’s bosom and as fruitful as her singing career. Since, y’know, you didn’t make a birthday wish last night. Might as well make one now.”

  I considered it as I tipped a sip of beer onto my tongue. Technically, it was still my birthday week, I guessed.

  What the hell. A little hoping surely couldn’t have hurt.

  I closed my eyes as I let the beer slide down my throat, an unspoken wish on my tongue.

  Please text back, it went. Please, please let him text back.

  9

  Nathan

  My phone buzzed just after I settled down for lunch, an unknown number flashing on its screen.

  Fucking hell. Took him long enough.

  I chuckled as I shoved aside Mornington account records I’d casually flipping through to read what he’d written. Damon was more important than those anxious California idiots anyway.

  Part of me had been so sure that the moment Damon Bishop raced out of my penthouse that morning to catch his train, it would be the last time that I’d see him. And now, against all odds—a text.

  Hey, handsome. Had an awesome time last night. You free next week? Let’s grab drinks. You’re buying.

  That only made me laugh harder. Handsome? It might have been true, but it didn’t sound like Damon in the slightest.

  Hey handsome yourself, I typed in reply. Sounding pretty chipper, Mr. Bishop. Your midterm go okay?

  I paused before I sent it, mulling my own words before I put them out into the world. Normally, I never would’ve worried about it. I wasn’t the kind of Alpha that often found himself waiting around for a text from an Omega. If anything, it was the other way around. But despite Damon’s suddenly flirtatious vibe, I knew I needed to be careful not to spook him. If I’d learned anything from the night before, it was that he was always looking for a reason to turn me down. Why? It beat me. But dammit, he was. I had no doubt that I was one autocorrect error away from never hearing from him again.

  I sent the text anyway, unedited. Texting was like playing with fire sometimes—it could be hard to guess context and tone—but I hadn’t gotten where I was in my career without taking a few chances every now and then.

  Then, it was the waiting game all over again. I put the phone back on my desk as I returned to the salad I’d bought from the little cafe downstairs. Working lunches were kind of my thing—but as I felt the vibrations of Damon’s reply rattle my pen cup, somehow I suspected I wouldn’t be getting much work done during this particular meal.

  Pretty sure I aced it, thanks to you. Simple, short and sweet. The tiny hint of a compliment at the end—I was impressed. Damon was better at this than I’d expected.

  Maybe you’ll have to study at my place again sometime. I should’ve waited a few minutes before I sent it—but what the hell. Damon wasn’t like the other Omegas that I usually fooled around with, and frankly, I didn’t want to wait.

  Smiling, I broke another of my rules—double texting.

  There’s still leftover pizza in the fridge, you know. It’d be a shame if it went to waste.

  Looked like I was going full loose cannon on this. Somehow, I didn’t mind. Playing games with Damon didn’t feel right. For once, it was a relief to be communicating with someone who didn’t seem insistent on playing them back.

  Tempting me with leftover pizza, huh? Who told you about my one weakness?

  You were mumbling about it in your sleep last night, I sent back immediately. “Please, Nate! Save the pizza, go on without me! I’ll hold these hungry ninjas back while you escape!”

  Another buzz from my phone. Oh my God. You’re fucking with me. I did not!

  You did, I wrote back to him. I watched you do karate in your dreams for about half an hour before I finally passed out myself.

  There was a long pause after I sent it—which, to my horror, left my pulse racing and my eyes glancing back at my phone every few minutes.

  Shit. I’d lost him. That never happened—maybe I shouldn’t have strayed from my time-tested Nathan Garnet Texting Rules after all.

  But then finally, my phone vibrated with a reply.

  Do you think I got them all? My dream karate is a little rusty…

  I found myself laughing out loud, shaking my head as I wracked my brain for a clever reply.

  “What’s so funny?” A male voice called over my shoulder.

  It startled me so much, I nearly jumped in my chair. Turning, I found Duncan Rourke leaning over me, craning his neck to see what I was up to.

  “Just that viral video that’s been going around lately.” I lied with finesse—and considering it was Duncan I was dealing with, I absolved myself of the sin immediately.

  Out of everyone in my office, he was the last one I wanted to reveal Damon’s existence to. The last time Duncan had found out about an Omega I was texting, the poor guy had received one of Duncan’s infamous dick pics hardly an hour later. Not something that I wanted Damon to worry about—or suffer through.

  “The one with the cat and dog that play pian
o together?” Duncan continued to lurk over me, straining to get a better look at my screen. “It was pretty funny, Garnet—but not exactly anything to crack up over.”

  “The one with the Russian baby riding the husky,” I lied again. Narrowing my eyes, I tucked my phone away. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

  “Probably.” Duncan shrugged. “But whatever you’re doing is usually more interesting.”

  “Yeah, well, go bother Sterling for a while,” I suggested. “I’m busy over here.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Watching YouTube videos? Yeah, sure, Nate. Sounds like it.”

  I leaned back in my chair, planning my next move with care before I spoke. It wasn’t just Damon’s pretty blue eyes I was trying to save from Duncan’s fuckboy Alpha nature, I realized. Duncan and I could get pretty competitive—in our profit reports and our love lives alike. But as far as I was concerned, Damon was mine. Off limits entirely.

  The easiest way to tell Duncan so was just to let him know point blank, I decided. We might’ve been competitive, but Duncan and I were also friends. He’d understand that I didn’t want him fucking around with this particular Omega as long as I told him so. Boundaries were important when you traveled in such similar circles with someone you worked with. If I told Duncan to back off, he would, I was sure of it.

  “Okay, look. I’m texting this guy.” Seeing the smile spread across Duncan’s face, I held up a finger immediately to put that grin of his on pause. “But I don’t want you digging up his number and showing him your cock, okay?”

  “He’s something special then, huh?” Damon waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips as he perched on the edge of my desk. “Tell me more.”

  “Met him at the club last night. Special…” I shook my head. “He’s something else, Dunk. Special doesn’t even begin to cut it.”

  “Pics,” Duncan insisted immediately. “Let me get a look at him and maybe I’ll find reason to keep my dick to myself. Just this once.”