by T Gephart
Crap, did he have x-ray vision as well?
“How did you know I was flipping you off?” I pulled open the door, figuring he wasn’t going to leave until he had at least seen I was fine.
“Because you’re predictable.” He smiled, his hands supporting his weight on each side of the doorjamb. It showed off his biceps and his stunning ink work.
Not what I should be concentrating on.
“See, all good.” I fought the urge to twirl knowing it would inevitably make me hurl. Ha. I rhymed. A small giggle escaped from my lips.
“What’s funny?” Jason moved in closer, the safety of the doorway no longer being in my favor.
“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” I fumbled as I took a step back to his step forward.
“I’m not going to touch you. I just want to make sure you get home okay.”
Probably a little late for the no touching thing, we could have used that twenty minutes ago.
“I said I was fine. I’ll just crash here.” My ass hit the sink, my backward stepping getting me no further. I hadn’t been convinced there was going to be no more touching. Better to be safe than sorry.
“Here? In the bathroom?” Jason looked around, eyeing off the tub.
“No, Rusty has a guest room. It’s around the back.”
“Well let’s get you there then.” Jason stepped aside; his head jerked to the side as if to say lead the way.
“You’re not putting me to bed, I’m not a child.” Sure, put the two of us in the vicinity of a bed, that wasn’t a recipe for disaster.
“Tell me, when did you start second guessing everyone’s motives?” He moved closer, his arms dangerously close to mine. What happened to the not touching rule? We needed to go back to that. “And I wasn’t implying you were a child, I was trying to be helpful.”
Like you were when you kissed me? Yeah, thanks but I think I can take it from here. “I don’t need any help. Honestly, I’m good. You can leave now.”
Like you did the first time.
Please if there was a God let my mouth only have said the parts I’d meant it to.
His eyes followed the length of my body up and down, his hesitation thick in the air as he took a step back from my personal space. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Sure thing.” My forced smile strained at the corners of my mouth as I watched him walk toward the doorway.
Just a few more feet, keep going.
“Oh and Angie, about that kiss.” He stopped, flushing any hopes I had of forgetting what we’d done down the toilet.
“It was nothing.” My voice not sounding convincing, as I shrugged. I blamed the booze. “Already forgotten.” Not likely.
“It won’t happen again.” He looked me over one last time and then thankfully—no seriously, praise the lord hallelujah—he left the room.
The breath I’d been holding slowly escaped from my lips as my body sagged against the sink.
“No, it won’t.”
What the hell was that?
I needed my head examined.
That or some shock therapy because thinking about kissing her was one thing, following through, something else.
Dumb move going to Rusty’s afterparty last night. Complete rookie mistake. Clearly I’d been thinking with my dick because going to see her was asking for trouble. Yet, there I went. Straight off stage, did our hello-how-are-yas with the fans and then I jetted out the door.
It wasn’t even a debate, and it fucking well should have been. What was even worse was that I’d lied about it.
Troy had been anxious to get Megs home, standard. She could tell him she was okay until she was blue in the face, but she looked pale and Troy was locked on target. He had the caveman bullshit jacked-up to eleven. So the two of them bailed the minute the official BS was over. James, Hannah, along with Power Station’s second string Noah and their kid on the block, Jesse, left soon after. Alex, Lexi and mini Lexi, aka Grace, hung around a little longer but not by much. Which left me kicking it backstage with Dan and Ash. Cue my lame excuse of being tired when they invited me to go hang with them.
It hadn’t even been convincing and still neither of them suspected anything. Such was the trust they had in me. They just smiled, told me to go get some sleep and waved me goodbye. I should’ve felt bad, but instead I got in my car and went the one place I knew I shouldn’t. To see Angie.
She was like a fucking Rubix cube. I wasn’t even asking why anymore, it was enough to know that no matter how scrambled the puzzle was, I had to solve it. And that shit with the song—pulling out a Taylor Swift cover—that just made it more interesting.
Of course by the time I’d made it to the Bronx, the small get-together had gotten messy. It was a typical Saturday night in the old neighborhood. Even if they hadn’t been doing the farewell thing, there still would’ve been half a dozen cars parked on the lawn and wall-to-wall people on the inside. Much like the night before we’d left. The night Angie and I had … yeah so much for ancient history.
So, we’d established that I hadn’t been thinking. Add to that a beautiful woman I’d never been able to resist, and we ended up reminiscing—with our tongues.
Fuck.
Well, at least it hadn’t gotten that far because that’s exactly where it had been heading. Her hand worked my cock like she was trying to get the genie out of a bottle; any conscious thought I had did an Elvis, and left the building.
Just a few more miles.
Right. I could run to Cleveland, and I’d still not have my mind right.
The T-shirt I’d stripped off thirty minutes ago multitasked as a towel. I used it to mop up the sweat off my face as I sucked air in and out of my lungs. My legs not getting anywhere close to the burn I needed to feel.
The buzz from my front door cut through the whirl of the treadmill, my stride thrown off by the knocking accompaniment. My feet hit the side guards as the belt kept moving, and I cursed the asshole who was on the other side of the door. My legs were slightly unsteady as I made my way to the source of the disturbance. It wasn’t going to be a friendly greeting.
“Angie?”
My eyes flew open to match my mouth’s display of surprise. That was followed up by my head flipping around the doorway to see if anyone else was in tow. “You’re alone? How did you know where I lived?”
She nodded as she moved through the doorway and into my apartment. “Yep, just me. And I asked Troy; he had no problem telling me where I could find you. Seemed only fair seeing as you knew where I lived.” My mind loitered in the hallway as I tried to reconcile the what-the-fuck.
Angie looked all kinds of fine as she strode in, my dick instantly taking an interest. Her jet-black hair was pulled back from her face, which was without the usual dark eye makeup. She looked better without it. The multiple studs down either side of her ears catching the light as she turned her head. The blue jeans she was wearing clung to her body like they’d been painted on, and her lotus tats stretching the length of her right arm peeked out from her faded Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. All put together, it cemented one hell of a vibe—sexy as hell.
She was the last person I expected to be showing up on my doorstep any time soon. And by any time soon, I meant never.
“Wow, you really are Captain America underneath the shirt.” Angie’s eyes widened as she glared at my bare chest. “Still Army Strong, I see.”
PT five days a week had been a habit even after I hung up my uniform. Working out was as much part of my routine as was brushing my teeth. I wasn’t huge, but I could hold my own.
“I wasn’t expecting company. I run to clear my head.”
Perspective was easy to come by when you had to slow down and concentrate on your body. Simple things, like breathing, makes all the worrying about trivial bullshit fall away. And if there was one day I needed to run, today was it.
“Well, judging by that,” she waved her hands in front of her, “you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Her lips twitched into a slig
ht smile. She hadn’t been quick enough to hide it before resuming her usual death glare. It’s the look she usually gave me. The one I was most familiar with.
As much as I enjoyed seeing her smile—it made a change from the usual venom she had for me—I was still no closer to knowing why she was here, in my apartment.
“So you here to check out my suitability for Armani’s new underwear campaign, or was there something I can get you?”
Obviously there was a point; the sooner we got to it the better. Besides, the longer I looked at her the greater chance of having a repeat of last night. Those lips were so fucking inviting I had to nail my feet to the floor. Did I mention how fucking hot she looked?
“You should totally do the underwear thing. Bieber had a billboard, so being an ass obviously isn’t a deal breaker.” Another smile. This time she didn’t try and hide it.
“Nice backhanded compliment.” My grin matched hers. “Who says singing is your only talent.”
“I can also play guitar.” Her smile got wider. “The bitch thing is just a hobby.”
“Of which you excel at when I’m around.” My feet inched forward, bringing me to stand directly in front of her. Nothing like tempting fate. It was like jumping out of a plane and then checking to see you had the parachute.
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
Yeah, not even going to pretend that she wasn’t giving me a hard-on from hell. It didn’t even make sense. Clearly she was telling me she didn’t like me and yet here we were.
“You want to go back and forth some more, or we going to get to the point of why you’re here?”
Before I take you to my bed and we can work out our differences there.
Her chest rose as she took a breath. “After you left, I started thinking.”
“Not sure you were in any condition to have any conscious thoughts.”
She could barely stand; not sure much actual thinking had gone down.
“Oh shut up, Jason, I wasn’t that drunk.” Her death glare was back with a vengeance.
“Drunk enough to throw up.”
The taste of Jäger and beer had been on her breath when I’d kissed her, and the fact that she’d let me was also a hint she was far from sober.
“It was kissing you that made me puke, not the booze.”
I could barely contain my fucking grin. “Wow, Angie. That’s two for two where you’ve gone zero to bitch in three seconds.”
“You interrupted me.” This time it was a death glare/smile combo.
“Go on.” I folded my arms across my chest, waiting to see how this was going to play out.
“So I was thinking,” she repeated, her game clearly off.
“Yes you mentioned that.” I leaned up against the back of my couch, settling in for what was no doubt going to be a hell of a story.
“Can you put on a goddamn shirt or something? I feel like I’ve stumbled into Nick Bateman’s Instagram.”
“Give me a second.” I grabbed a sweatshirt that had been hanging across the back end of my couch and shoved it over my head. Not ideal but it would do. I tried to not enjoy that my being half naked threw her off her game. Because that would make me an even bigger dick, wouldn’t it. Not to mention I’d rather be taking clothes off rather than adding them. Looks like she wasn’t the only one losing her trail of thought. “Alright. You were thinking …” My head nodded waiting for her to continue.
“Are you gay?”
Huh? Did she just ask me if I was… gay?
“Are you high?” That casual leaning I had going on no longer worked for me as I straightened back onto my feet.
“No, I’m not trying to be a wiseass, I mean it kind of fits.”
Holy shit, she was serious. I had to fight the urge to show her how not gay I was.
“What the hell are you talking about? It kind of fits.”
She shifted uncomfortably in place before meeting my eyes. “So, that summer you were at Troy’s, I didn’t see you date anyone. Girls were throwing themselves at you, but you didn’t do anything.”
“I think I recall doing something with you that would disprove your theory.”
Maybe I was mistaken, but I kind of thought the sex we’d had in the backseat of my car qualified for something.
“We had sex once and then you ran like a bat out of hell. A gay guy can sleep with a woman and it means no more than a straight woman sleeping with another woman. It doesn’t mean anything. Hard-ons can be a physical response.”
Well fuck, she had actually sold herself on this theory.
Like, she’d actually given it some thought. A plus B equaled I liked to suck dick.
“I assure you, I’m not gay.”
I would have loved to have seen the thought process. The one where she forgot how many times I made her come. That, and the fact I’d had been ready to do it again last night. Because clearly that didn’t sell my position on whether or not I preferred pussy. Her fucking extrapolation so freaking funny, it didn’t even offend me. Proving her wrong, still very much on the table.
“I’ve rarely seen you linked to anyone.” She took a breath before qualifying. “Like online. James was with Hannah for like forever so he was out. Alex and Dan, those two were all over the internet the whole damn time until they found their significant others. Even Troy, who was super discreet, couldn’t escape the limelight. You? There was one mention of a chick you were seeing long distance but never any photos. Did she even exist? Oh, wait? Was she your beard? And Rusty said you were being really friendly to him.”
“I was wrong. You aren’t high, you are motherfucking insane.”
Wow.
No idea.
She honestly had no fucking clue.
“You can tell me.” Her voice softened for the first time since our reconnection. “Honestly, it would explain a lot.”
She was actually being sympathetic. Like I had been stuffed all this time in a closest with a dildo up my ass. Let me be clear. Gay, straight, bi, whatever. I gave zero fucks—yeah, the word choice completely intentional—on anyone else’s sexual orientation. They could fuck whom they wanted, as much as they wanted and they could all skip into the sunset.
My preference was one way—my dick in a woman. Where in the woman was the only part that was open for debate. There wasn’t any other gray area. Not a maybe let’s experiment. Not an excuse me sir, can I lick your balls?
“I’m sorry I slept with you and left you. Like I said, it was a dick move, but it wasn’t because I was gay, it was because I was an asshole.” And I was a coward, but I chose to leave that bit out.
“Rusty is a cool guy but I don’t want to fuck him. The lack of girls in the press is partly because I’m the freaking keyboard player and no one gives a shit, and partly because I don’t date women who are looking to land a role in The Real Housewives of New York.”
“Oh.” Her face vacant of emotion.
“Look, I don’t do relationships. I know some guys say that, but I’ve tried and every single time is more miserable than the last. I do casual hook ups but don’t flash it around. I’m with them and then I leave. It’s just the way I’m wired.”
Not that it had always been that way, but it had been for a very long time. If it wasn’t broke don’t fix it, and as far as women were concerned this was the only way it worked for me. Everyone assumed it was Dan who was biggest manwhore, but they had no idea. He just ran his mouth about it, I didn’t. Plus, I was careful about the women I chose. If they looked like they were angling for a feature in Billboard Magazine, I’d leave them to him. He could have all the publicity he wanted while I found someone who would rather fuck than have her picture in the paper.
“But what about the girl, the one you were seeing?”
Angie had obviously heard about the girl I tried to do normal with a couple of years ago.
“Erin.” That was the name of my failed foray back into relationship land. She was a cutie. We met at a show but actually wasn’t a fa
n, and what started as one of my planned hook-ups went pear-shaped when she thought it meant more. It had been a while since I’d done the girlfriend thing so I thought I’d give it a try. Shouldn’t have bothered. It didn’t end well.
“Erin.” Angie repeated it back; it felt weird hearing that name on her lips. Almost like it was dirty. It wasn’t like what we’d had. I had been with Erin because I felt obligated; I’d been with Angie because I couldn’t stop myself from not being with her.
“Honestly, I was only with her because I figured it was something I should be doing. We should never have gotten together. It’s not that I didn’t like her, she was a sweet girl but she wanted things from me that I couldn’t give her. Besides, she lived in fucking Pennsylvania, it never would have worked out.”
Webcam dating didn’t interest me, nor did jerking myself off with phone sex. It was more work than pleasure. I ended it as soon as I was able to.
“Because she’s a Steeler’s fan, right? I don’t blame you, I never got that Terrible Towel thing either.” A slight smile ghosted on her lips, it was the first one she’d given me since the whole are-you-gay discussion had begun.
“No, she didn’t even like football.”
“Well it’s a good thing you dumped her then.” Angie straightened, and I realized I hadn’t even asked her to sit down. We’d been standing the whole time and I felt if I asked her to sit now it would probably be inviting trouble. I guess we’d be standing a little longer.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Yes, definitely, but not because she didn’t like football, because she wanted a boyfriend and I wanted sex without commitment.
“So you like women then.” It wasn’t a question, more a confirmation of the fact that I was very much into pussy and not cock.
“Yes, very much so.” And often, just not with the attachment and dating after.
“Just casual hook ups.”
“Yes, generally. It works.”
This conversation was not one I wanted to be having. My bed was my business and no one else needed to hear about it. It wasn’t for bragging rights. Not even the band knew the full extent of my extracurricular activities. They’d seen me with a girl or two, but for the most part it was kept on the down low. Like I said, Dan took the heat off for a lot of years.