Action

by Quinn Anderson

  Heart galloping, he replied, I could never do that, no. I’m not like you. He was tempted to add something like, And I know from experience that it doesn’t always go as smoothly as it did in your case, but he held back. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about that just yet. Instead, he typed, Does that disappoint you?

  He hit Send before he could change his mind. His phone was silent for six torturous minutes. Then it vibrated.

  No. That’s one of many reasons why I can’t stop thinking about you.

  His whole body tingled. It was the same feeling he got when he missed a stair or slipped but managed to catch himself. It gathered in the soles of his feet and then spread into the rest of him, making the fine hairs on his arms stand up. The sensation of falling was so strong, he wondered what he was falling into.

  He left Evan’s last text unanswered and went to bed. The next morning, he rose early despite several attempts to sleep in. With no class and no work to help while away the time, he was forced to resort to household chores and homework. Mom was thrilled, which was its own reward, but nothing could hold his attention. He spent fifteen minutes scrubbing the same plate only to abandon it in favor of cleaning their unused stove.

  It didn’t help that the sun set early in the winter, making it seem later than it was. The final few hours before his “date” dragged on for a localized eternity. He enlisted Mom’s help in selecting his outfit for the night. He told her he was going to meet up with friends, but from the twinkle in her brown eyes, he could tell she didn’t believe him.

  After digging through his entire closet and discarding absolutely everything that even resembled a hoodie, they settled on a white, long-sleeve shirt with a blue sweater pulled over it and black pants. It wasn’t original, and it was far from traditional club attire, but when Pete checked out his reflection, he thought he looked pretty good.

  Hopefully Evan would too.

  After saying good-bye to Mom and promising not to stay out too late, he made the drive into town. The club was located near L.A. Live, one of the newer nightlife hotspots. He was miraculously able to find street parking within walking distance. He had to pay an exorbitant amount for it, but the prices would only get worse the closer he got to the clubs.

  He stepped out into the cold night and made his way down Figueroa Street. Eight blocks later, a building with a neon-green sign reading Twist came into view. A paltry handful of people were waiting outside. It was only a little after nine, and nightlife in LA both started late and ended early. Until the after-parties began, of course.

  He scanned the faces outside the club. None of them belonged to Evan. It occurred to him that if he wanted to call this whole thing off, now was his last chance.

  Breathe, he commanded himself, as anticipation smacked into him with the force of a tidal wave. He was just hanging out with a coworker. No big deal. Evan wasn’t going to bite him. Well, actually . . .

  His phone hummed. Too late to back out now. He pulled it out and scanned the short message.

  Boo.

  His brow scrunched. What?

  Strong arms wrapped around him from behind. “Gotcha.”

  Pete yelped and pried himself free.

  Evan burst out laughing. “Oh my God, your face.”

  “Holy shit, Evan.” He couldn’t decide if he was more startled, pissed, or pleased to see him.

  “I like it when you use my real name.”

  Twin spots of heat bloomed in Pete’s cheeks. “I know you do.” He’d experienced that firsthand. But it would take more than a little flirting to assuage him. “Why’d you sneak up on me?”

  “I thought it’d be funny.” He smirked. “It was.”

  “Whatever,” Pete grumbled. People were starting to line up in earnest. He gestured at the club. “Let’s go inside.”

  They headed for the end of the line, which now had about a dozen people in it. Evan shocked him by taking his hand. He almost stopped dead in his tracks, but after a precarious wobble he kept moving, praying his hand wasn’t clammy.

  He must have tensed or something, because Evan said, “Way too easy.”

  Pete regarded him. “What is?”

  “Getting a reaction out of you. Or at least, it is now that I know what to look for.” He squeezed his hand. “You’re freezing. We should hurry.”

  The line moved mercifully quickly. To Pete’s immense embarrassment, when it was their turn, the bouncer spent at least thirty extra seconds examining his ID. Even after it passed, he made a point of drawing giant black X’s on the back of his hands with marker. Evan had the decency not to comment, though his lips kept twitching like he was fighting a smile. Pete wanted to liquesce and seep into the ground.

  They entered through the metal and glass front doors. Pete was thankful and disappointed to discover clubs had not changed at all since he turned eighteen. There were flashing lights, pop music, and clusters of people at the bar. The dance floor was largely unpopulated, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Once the crowd had some liquid courage in it, people would turn out in droves. Pete prayed he would be spared that particular torture.

  They made a stop at the coat check and then stood between the bar and the dance floor. Pete looked to Evan. “What would you like to do?”

  Instead of answering, Evan pressed his fingers into the small of Pete’s back, guiding him toward the bar. Pete wet his suddenly dry lips and allowed himself to be led.

  They slid into a space between a group of glittery drag queens and some hipsters.

  “You want anything?” Evan asked.

  Pete fingered the X on the back of one of his hands. “Water.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  A bartender appeared as if summoned by his decision. Evan leaned over the bar and ordered something Pete couldn’t hear. He used the opportunity to examine him. His clothing selection for the evening was similar to what Pete had seen him wear in the past: dark, well-fitting jeans and a button-down shirt that suited him so well it seemed tailored.

  That pretty much confirmed it. Evan had fashion sense. Pete cursed the injustice of it. It was like he’d won some sort of gene pool lottery, whereas Pete had been given a consolation toaster.

  As he stared unabashedly, something pinged in the back of Pete’s mind. He squinted at the jacket. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he thought it might be the same one he’d worn the night of the audition. The same night Evan had cornered him on Joyce’s deck in his underwear.

  Gulp.

  Evan turned around suddenly. Pete averted his gaze, but it was too late. There was no way Evan hadn’t seen him staring.

  Instead of teasing him, Evan pressed a cold glass into his hand. “Here. Cheers.”

  Pete dutifully clinked his glass against Evan’s. It was water, as promised, but he couldn’t tell what was in Evan’s. Something dark. A rum and Coke? He’d pegged Evan as the sort to either drink beer or fruity cocktails with little umbrellas in them. Pete could picture both.

  Evan answered his unasked question. “It’s Coke.”

  “Just Coke? You’re not drinking?”

  “Nah, it wouldn’t be fair.” Evan brushed a thumb over the back of Pete’s hand. “Besides, I want to be clearheaded for this.”

  “For clubbing?”

  “Something like that.” Evan took a swig of his drink and surveyed the room. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  Evan laughed and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to a smattering of tables on the other side of the room. They were far enough from the DJ that the bass wasn’t quite so overwhelming, though it still throbbed like a communal heartbeat in the air.

  There was what appeared to be a lesbian couple at one of the tables, but they were engrossed in their own conversation. It was as close to privacy as they could get without ducking into one of the darkened corners. Pete could only imagine what went down in there. He set his drink down and took a seat. Evan did the same, and their knees brus
hed under the table.

  Pete racked his brain for something to say, which should have been an easy task, considering there was still so much he wanted to know about Evan. All throughout the day he thought of things, but now that they were together, his mind was blank. He blamed the insistent press of Evan’s leg against his.

  He decided to start simple, raising his voice over the music. “Have you been here before?”

  “I have, but it’s been a while. Clubbing was never really my scene.” He looked at Pete askance. “I wouldn’t have thought it was yours either. I was surprised when you said you wanted to come here.”

  Pete grinned. “What do you mean? I’m obviously a total club rat.”

  “Could have fooled me. I took you for the type to have a few friends over on the weekends and drink craft beer.”

  “That’s probably what I’ll do on my actual birthday. I haven’t decided yet.” He fiddled with the glass in his hand and cleared his throat. “If I end up doing a birthday thing, would you like to come?”

  “Depends. Would I be your date?”

  Pete choked on his own saliva. He tried not so sound as flustered as he said, “Um, yeah, I guess. If that’s, uh, what you want.”

  “Maybe.” Evan’s grin was wicked. “We should probably see how tonight goes before we start planning date number two.”

  Pete felt like all the blood in his body had broken loose and was sloshing aimlessly in him. “That would make this date number one, wouldn’t it?”

  “And you tried to tell me you’re not smart.” He rubbed Pete’s shoulder. “It’s a date if you want it to be.”

  He swallowed. “I probably wouldn’t have called it that if you hadn’t said something.”

  “Why not?”

  “Wouldn’t have had the nerve. I was only able to ask you out because I had my birthday as an excuse. Dates are big, scary things that I suck at.”

  Evan cocked his head to the side. “What about me? Am I a big, scary thing?”

  Pete wet his lips. “You used to be. Not so much anymore.”

  “Then we’ve made progress.” Evan reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Pete’s. “You don’t need an excuse to spend time with me, and you don’t have to invite me to places you don’t enjoy because you feel like you should. At this point, I’d jump at the chance to put a jigsaw puzzle together with you.”

  Pete’s heart mimicked the heavy rhythm of the music. “How do you see through me so easily?”

  Evan leaned forward, his eyes intent on Pete’s face. “I’m looking very, very closely.”

  Pete had to try twice before he could speak loudly enough to be heard. “I’m glad you told me to make a move, though I’m kind of surprised you didn’t beat me to the punch. Why didn’t you ask me?”

  “What’s it matter?”

  “Because you probably wouldn’t have dillydallied so much.”

  Evan snorted. “‘Dillydallied’? Really? I bet that’s the first time in recorded history that someone has said ‘dillydallied’ at a club. Sure you don’t want to go with a safer word? Like ‘shilly-shallied’?”

  Pete flushed. “Very funny.”

  A roguish smile curved Evan’s lips. “Sorry, I can’t help it. The urge to tease you is overwhelming.”

  “You’ve told me that before.”

  “It’s as true now as it was then. But to answer your question, I enjoy a good chase, but not for wild geese.”

  “What?”

  “Dance with me.” Evan stood up, holding his hand out to Pete.

  Pete blinked at it, still reeling from the sudden change in topic. When he recovered, he racked his brain for an excuse. He was still struggling when something suddenly glommed onto him from behind. The thing knocked him forward, rattling the table. If Pete had to guess, he’d wager it was a human-sized octopus.

  “Hey, flamer,” cooed a familiar voice in his ear.

  “Oh God, no,” Pete ground out. He jerked around in his seat, praying he was having some sort of hallucination.

  But no, Joshua was standing next to him. He stepped back, an evil grin on his face. His blond hair had been gelled into spikes, and he was decked out in proverbial club clothes: skinny jeans and a slashed shirt with black mesh peeking through.

  “Oh God,” Pete repeated. “Please make it go away.”

  Joshua pouted. “Nice to see you too.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I come here all the time. The real question is, what are you doing here. Did you lose a bet or something?”

  Pete whined like a wounded animal. How could he forget that Joshua was a club rat? And how did everyone who’d ever met him know he didn’t like clubs? This was a disaster.

  “Everything all right?” Evan piped up.

  Joshua glanced at Evan and then did a double-take. He looked him up and down, eyes widening with each pass. “Holy shit. Is he with you?”

  “He is,” Evan answered, peering curiously at Joshua. “Who are you?”

  Joshua clapped Pete on the back. “I’m Joshua. Flamer and I work together.”

  Evan squinted at Pete. “Flamer?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he calls me. He thinks it’s okay because he’s gay, but really it’s just uncomfortable.” Although, I’m grateful for once that he never uses my name, or my secret identity wouldn’t be so secret anymore.

  “It’s just a joke,” Joshua said, eyes still glued to Evan.

  Evan, however, was watching Pete. “When he says you work together, does he mean . . .”

  Oh shit. Pete could see right where Evan’s brain had gone, and considering Joshua was an attractive gay man, it wasn’t a difficult leap. Pete started to deny it—just the thought of sleeping with Joshua made him queasy—but he stopped short. He couldn’t very well say, Oh no, he’s not in porn, in front of Joshua. And he couldn’t say, He works at my other job, either, or Joshua would want to know what his other other job was. Fuck.

  Luckily, Joshua came to his unwitting rescue. “Ever heard of a coffee shop called the Globe?”

  Evan’s eyes widened. It was funny that they’d just talked about jigsaw puzzles, because Pete could practically see him fitting pieces together in his mind. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been there.”

  “That’s where we work. If you ever want to drop by, I’d be happy to serve you.” He batted long, pale eyelashes.

  Pete couldn’t tell if he wanted to face-palm or throw up.

  “I’d love to,” Evan cooed back.

  Pete sucked in a breath. Oh God. What if Evan thought Joshua was hot?

  Suddenly, Evan grabbed Pete by the hand and yanked him to his feet. “Now that I know he works there, I’m sure I’ll be by all the time. It was nice meeting you. If you’ll excuse us, we have some dancing to do.”

  And with that, Evan strode off, dragging Pete with him and leaving a pouting Joshua behind with their abandoned drinks. They weaved through the crowd until they were on the far side of the dance floor, out of sight of the tables.

  Evan stopped and faced him without releasing his hand. “Charming friend you have there.”

  Pete prayed his hand wasn’t sweating in Evan’s grip like a cold drink on a summer day. “He’s not my friend. He’s just a coworker.”

  “Yeah, I got that. You work at that coffee place I saw you in front of?”

  “Um, yeah.” He shuffled his feet. “It’s my day job.”

  “So, when I saw you outside that one time, and you said you had to go to work, you were being literal?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have come back when you were on break.”

  Pete was conspicuously silent.

  “Did you . . . not want me to know you worked there?”

  “Um, sort of.”

  Evan frowned. “Why? Did you think I was going to march inside and shout ‘Hey, everyone, this guy’s a porn star’?”

  “No,” Pete said quickly. “Nothing like that. I just— Look, this is rea
lly embarrassing. I—I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I’m”—he made an awkward gesticulation toward himself—“exactly what I am. A boring college student with a boring job and a boring life. It’s not very sexy, you know?”

  Evan snorted. “You could be covered in coffee grounds and still be sexy, believe me. Out of curiosity, though, why have a second job at all? I bet that place doesn’t pay you in a week what porn does in an hour.”

  “You’re right, but I live with my mom, and if I showed up with a bunch of money and no explanation for how I got it, she’d ask questions. I had to have a part-time job.”

  “You could just tell her the truth.”

  “I could also set myself on fire, but I have no intention of doing that either. I seriously, seriously doubt she’d be okay with it. Besides, I’d keep my day job regardless. It’s a steady paycheck I can rely on when no one books me for a month at a time. I’m not a rising star like you are. I’m not always in demand.”

  Evan’s expression was impish. “Sounds like that job is your secret identity. You’re working as a reporter for the Daily Planet so no one figures out you’re actually Superman.”

  “Well, when you put it like that. Thanks for taking this so well. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

  “I understand,” Evan said, light and airy. “Everyone wants to look cool in front of their crush.”

  “I do not!” Pete squawked, which in no way helped his case. “You’re not— I never— I’m not—”

  Evan attempted to smother his laughter with a hand and was only partially successful. “I feel like a teenager.”

  Pete frowned. “Because I never got over my awkward phase?”

  “No, because you seem so delightfully new to this. If I weren’t certain someone had to have fallen for you by now, I’d think you’d never dated before.”

  “You’re not that far off. I’ve only had two serious relationships, and one of them didn’t end well.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Not to bring up past lovers while on a,” he swallowed, “date, or anything. I think that’s one of those things you’re not supposed to do.”

  Evan shrugged. “You have a past. So does everyone. I want to learn more about you, including the not-so-happy parts.”