“Hi.” Logan stuck his hand out. “I’m Logan.”
“Ooh.” Angel ignored his hand and gave him a once-over. “Yum-my.” To Ellis, he said, “Is he taken?”
“Worse. Closeted.”
“Ugh.” Angel wrinkled his nose. “What a tragedy.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “This tragedy can hear you. And I am not closeted.”
“Really?” Angel leaned close to him, and the sharp smell of his cologne invaded Logan’s nose. “Then would you like to dance?”
Logan squirmed. “Um. I’m—”
“You know,” Ellis interjected, “you can be straight and still dance with another man. So, that’s not really a good excuse.”
Logan glared at him.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Angel sighed. “That’s a shame. El, honey, you better do something about him soon, or someone else is going to show him what he’s missing.”
For the first time in pretty much ever, Ellis was the one who looked uncomfortable. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh. I believe you, hun. Really.”
Logan looked between them. “Am I missing something here?”
“Oh yes,” Angel purred. “I’d say you’re missing out on a great many things, but far be it from me to interfere.”
“You’re not interfering.” Ellis took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Except with your own sad attempts to hook me up with every guy who has a pulse.”
Angel shrugged. “Just trying to help.”
It occurred to Logan—as if through a thick fog—that Angel was talking about them. Him and Ellis. Together. It also occurred to him that he’d had far too much to drink if it had taken him this long to work it out.
“I’m really not gay,” he protested weakly.
Ellis cracked a wry smile. “Now that I can agree with. You’re definitely not gay.”
Logan frowned. He wanted to agree, but he sensed that Ellis wasn’t saying what he thought he was saying.
“Well.” Angel clapped his hands together. “Much as I’d love to stand here and watch you two stare longingly at each other, I could just as easily watch Twilight for that. I’m gonna dance. You guys should do the same. Only sad people sit at the bar all night.”
With that, he disappeared into the growing throng of people undulating on the dance floor.
“Pardon my friend.” Ellis stared after Angel, shaking his head. “He has no boundaries. And believe it or not, it’s even worse when he’s been drinking.”
“We should dance,” Logan blurted out.
Fuck. Where had that come from?
Ellis seemed just as shocked as he was. “What?”
Logan started to back down, only to discover he didn’t want to. “Dance. We should, uh, do that.”
Ellis put his glasses back on and stared at him, his eyes huge and dark in the dim light. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” And, strangely, Logan was. “It’s not a real first-time-at-a-gay-club if I don’t dance, right? I want the full experience. And you can think of this as the perfect revenge. You took me to a gay club and tricked me into making a fool of myself. I’m sure the memory of me flailing around on the floor will last way longer than four years.”
For several piercing seconds, Ellis seemed to be looking right through him, but then he climbed to his feet. “I can’t believe this, but . . . all right. If that’s what you want. Lead the way.”
The second Logan stood up, all the alcohol hit him at once. He grabbed the bar for support and tried to pass it off like he’d stumbled, but Ellis wasn’t buying it.
“Dude, you are wasted. No wonder you wanted to dance.”
“I’m fine. Sure, I can’t hold my liquor as well as I can hold a good cabernet, but I’ll manage. I’m not slurring or anything, right?”
Ellis held up his palms. “All right, Lindsay Lohan, you’re not on trial here. Though for the record, by the power vested in me by the cranky manager of the Golden Flamingo, you are hereby cut off.”
“That’s fine. I’ll sober up on the dance floor.” Logan expected to feel shy or nervous, but to his surprise, raw excitement bubbled up in him. He’d almost say he felt giddy. The music overhead switched to a song he liked, and the last of his reservations melted away.
“Oh, I love this song!” He grabbed Ellis’s arm and dragged him onto the packed floor.
Ellis allowed himself to be towed to the far side of the room, where it was marginally less crowded. “You listen to pop music?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not me. Not to sound like a snob, but you’d never catch me listening to pop unless there was no other option.”
“Well, try not to let it offend your good taste, because we’re dancing to it whether you like it or not.”
Logan found a spot he liked and closed his eyes, soaking in the beat as if it were warm water washing over him. He swayed in place, feeling the rhythm, finding where he fit into it. He was far, far, from an experienced dancer, but the alcohol was convincing him otherwise. When he opened his eyes again, he found Ellis watching him with a distinctly uncomfortable expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“I, um—” he scratched his head “—I wasn’t expecting you to know what you’re doing. This was supposed to be funny, not . . .”
“Not what?”
“Nothing. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“You’re not going to join me?”
Ellis licked his lips. “I only know one way to dance, and you wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh? Try me.”
Ellis paused for a beat before he put a hand on Logan’s waist and pulled him close. Logan froze, going rigid from head to toe. From this close, he could count Ellis’s damnably long eyelashes. Hell, he could smell the soap he used: mint and lemon.
Ellis put his mouth to Logan’s ear, presumably to be heard over the music. “Relax. I won’t bite.”
“I am relaxed,” Logan lied. He shivered; mentally, he blamed it on Ellis’s breath tickling his skin when he spoke. “Are you going to move or just stand there?”
“Put your hand on my chest.”
Logan did and instantly regretted it. Ellis was every bit as warm as Logan had thought he’d be, his body firm beneath Logan’s touch. And big. So much bigger than the lanky teen version of him that Logan remembered. A frisson worked its way up Logan’s spine to the base of his skull, making the fine hairs on his nape stand on end. His first instinct was to take a step back and distance himself from the odd sensations trickling through him, but Ellis still had a hand on his waist.
“Move like this.” Ellis’s fingers slid down to Logan’s hip and gripped it. He guided him into a simple rocking motion. It was nothing special—hell, it didn’t even match the tempo of the music—but with the alcohol and the lights and Ellis standing so close . . .
Logan was as breathless as if they’d been dancing for hours. God, when Ellis matched his rhythm and started moving with him, it was suddenly way, way too much. He exhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes. To his embarrassment, a sound escaped from him as well. He didn’t dare call it a moan. Suddenly, he was ten degrees warmer than he’d been before.
It’s all the people nearby, and having Ellis so close. The room is heating up, not you.
His mental voice didn’t sound very convincing.
What do you expect? You’re semi-grinding on a guy right after you claimed to be straight. Being convincing doesn’t appear to be high on your list of priorities.
Jesus. That put things into perspective. What was he doing? And, more importantly, why was he so okay with it?
Because this is Ellis. He has always been the exception.
“You okay?” Ellis scrutinized him from inches away. It was agonizingly intense.
Logan looked down at the ground, which only served to give him an up-close view of their bodies moving together. He swallowed and forced his eyes back up. “Yeah. I just, um, feel kinda off.”
Silence fell between them. Logan couldn’t explain it, but there was a feeling building up in him. He breathed it in along with Ellis’s soap scent; it filled him like air inside a balloon. He tried to put a name to it and came up blank. It was like electricity and nausea mixed together.
“Remember that one time we danced together?” Ellis smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
“Um.” Logan thought hard. “Was it . . . in your studio the day after midterms? You were trying to get me into jazz. You put on Billie Holiday and very nearly succeeded.”
Ellis nodded. “That was the time, yeah. I’m flattered you remember.”
Logan flexed his fingers on Ellis’s chest. “Of course I do.”
They quieted again. Ellis’s brow was puckered, as if he was deep in thought.
A moment later he said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I . . . Look, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but there’s something that’s been bugging me.”
“Yeah?”
“You say you’re straight, right?”
Logan fought the urge to fidget. For some reason, hearing Ellis say that made him uncomfortable. “Uh-huh.”
“So, you’re not attracted to men at all, then?”
Logan’s heart had already been doing its best impression of a jackhammer, but now it could level a city block. “I guess that’s what being straight means, huh?”
“Sort of, yeah.”
That didn’t sound right at all. Logan wondered if tequila had some sort of scrambling effect on the brain, because suddenly his concept of straight seemed foreign to him. It definitely didn’t sound like what he felt for Ellis.
Ellis continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I was just thinking, if you really stand behind that, then all those times we were together . . . you know, when we kissed and fooled around and all, that would mean you didn’t find me attractive. You were just fucking around, as you put it.”
Ellis paused as if waiting for a response. Logan nodded, too miserable to speak.
Ellis took a breath that Logan swore was pulled from his own lungs. “Did you mean that? I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, but I need to know. Were you attracted to me back then? Or were you just ‘experimenting’ like you keep saying.”
Logan’s gaze waffled between Ellis’s beautiful eyes and his tense expression. He looked like he was preparing himself for a physical blow. Logan had never seen anyone look so beautiful and sad.
The truth tumbled out of him as if he were a cabinet that had been stuffed too full for far too long. “I wasn’t just fucking around. I was attracted to you. Really attracted to you. More than any of the other guys I did stuff with. You’re the reason I have that joke. The one about being ninety-five percent straight. You were my exception.”
Ellis’s eyes widened. “Logan . . .” He hesitated. “Are you still attracted to me?”
Logan didn’t answer. Something hit him square in the gut, like an icy fist, and suddenly he understood what the feeling that had been welling up in him all night was: longing. Longing for what they’d had. Longing for what he’d thrown away. And nostalgia too.
He breathed in Ellis’s scent, and it hurtled him back in time. He was nineteen again and helplessly, hopelessly infatuated with his best friend. He was scared and confused and so filled with want, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted the past four years back. He wanted all the things Ellis could make him feel just by being with him, touching him, kissing him—
Kissing him. That was all Logan had wanted to do since they’d run into each other in the parking lot of that fucking Starbucks.
Shit. How had he managed to deny it all this time? Logan wasn’t sure what the catalyst was—the alcohol, the music, touching Ellis—but his walls were coming down in a big way. And why shouldn’t they? He could no longer remember why he’d fought this so hard.
“Something wrong?” Ellis looked adorably confused.
God, how had Logan ever, ever pretended he didn’t want this man? He wanted him with everything he had. He couldn’t lose another minute. He grabbed Ellis’s face and cradled it in both hands.
“Whoa, what are you—” was all Ellis managed to get out before Logan pressed their lips together. Hard.
For three seconds, Logan was in heaven. Warm, plush, whiskey-flavored heaven.
Then two large hands found his shoulders and shoved him back. He toppled over, but thankfully he crashed against a support beam just before he would have gone sprawling.
It took a moment for him to gather himself enough to look up. “What . . .”
His question died in his throat. Ellis’s face was twisted with rage and disbelief. “Logan, what the fuck?”
Logan hissed and rubbed his shoulder where he’d hit the beam. He was going to have a nasty bruise tomorrow. “What the hell, Ellis? Why’d you shove me?”
“Why?” Ellis looked downright murderous. “What do you mean ‘why’? What the fuck do you think you were doing?”
“Dude, calm down.” People were looking their way, and if Logan could hear Ellis over the music, everyone else could too. “You’re causing a scene.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this furious.”
“But why though?”
Ellis ignored his question in favor of shouting some more. “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you to calm down, hm? After all, you did just kiss a guy. I thought you were straight, or mostly straight, or whatever bullshit you’ve been spouting. Shouldn’t you be freaking out? Running away? Not speaking to me for four fucking years?”
Logan’s ribs constricted. He’d never heard anyone sound so angry. “Ellis, please stop yelling.”
“What were you thinking? Why did you kiss me?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“Oh, that is rich. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going home.” Ellis stormed off in the direction of the coatroom. A small crowd had formed around them, and as soon as Ellis left, they all looked at Logan.
Red-faced, he chased after Ellis and caught up with him just as he reached the counter.
Before he could say anything, Ellis snapped, “Give me your ticket.”
Logan obeyed, fishing it out of his pocket and handing it over. Ellis shoved it and his own ticket into the hands of the coat-check guy, who wisely fetched their things without comment.
“Ellis,” Logan tried.
“No.”
Logan fell silent. The guy appeared a moment later with their things. Ellis snatched up both their jackets, shoved Logan’s at him, and then pulled on his own so violently it was a wonder it didn’t split apart at the seams. “Good night, Logan.”
“Wait, Ellis. Let’s talk about this.” The plea was half for Ellis’s sake and half for Logan’s. His brain was starting to catch up with what he’d done, and it was spinning. He might not be the most versed in LGBT affairs, but making out with another guy on a dance floor did not fit into anyone’s definition of straight.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ellis growled. “You’re drunk. We all do stupid shit when we’re drunk.”
Logan frowned. He’d done his fair share of blaming it on the alcohol, but somehow that didn’t seem right. He’d kissed Ellis for precisely the reason he’d said. Because he wanted to. And that could only mean one thing. The wall of heterosexuality Logan had spent all night defending was beginning to crack right before his eyes.
Before he could say anything, Ellis stalked toward the exit. “Go home and sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Logan was hit by a gut feeling that if he let Ellis walk out that door, he’d never see him again. He caught Ellis by the arm. “Wait. Please. Let me explain.”
Ellis looked between his hand and his face, as if he were debating shoving him again. “What’s there to explain?”
&nbs
p; “I meant what I said. I kissed you because I wanted to.”
To Logan’s complete shock, Ellis’s expression transformed from irritated to terrified in a flash. “Why?”
“Because I want you, Ellis.”
Ellis didn’t look convinced. “You said you’re straight.”
“I also said you’re the exception.”
Ellis’s anger came back in full, crackling force. “So what, you’re going to continue to tell people you’re straight, and I’m gonna be your dirty secret?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what? What are you going to do about this?”
“I . . . I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Ellis lowered his voice to a hiss. “Logan, I swear to Christ, if you think you’re going to fuck me on the side while you keep pretending to be straight—”
“No! Jesus, Ellis, no. I can’t believe you’d think that.”
“Well, what am I supposed to think? You keep claiming to be straight, then you say there are exceptions, and you’re totally ignoring the fact that the B in LGBT is right there, waiting for you, because . . . what, you can’t bear the idea of not being straight? You have to create a whole separate category just for you?”
“I really don’t know, Ellis. This is all new to me. I did what felt right, and—” he made a helpless gesture “—I don’t know. I thought you’d want it too.”
Ellis’s eyes narrowed. “What made you think that? Did I lead you on somehow all those times I yelled at you and made cheap potshots at your orientation?”
“I just thought maybe you felt it too. I mean, you asked if I still find you attractive, and I know you find me attractive because you kept all those pictures of me, and you’re gay, so I figured—”
The second the words left Logan’s mouth, he wished he could stuff them back in. If he’d thought Ellis had been angry before, he had another thing coming.
Ellis turned slowly away, rage rolling off him in waves. “Get out of here.”
“What?”
“You don’t deserve to be in this space. Get out.”
Logan stared at him, wide-eyed. “Ellis, I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I didn’t mean—”
The Other Five Percent Page 8