Better Than Chance

by Lane Hayes

  “No problem. So… Friday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me your cell number. I’m not at the office much this week. Most of my meetings are outside.”

  I did as instructed. He read the digits back to me incorrectly twice, so I leaned across to guide him through each number as though my closer proximity would help. Peter turned toward me as I leaned in. Our faces were inches apart. I could feel his breath on my lips and found myself licking mine in response. I heard a low groan but wasn’t sure who it was… him or me, before our lips touched in the softest of kisses. I pulled back, unsure and unsettled. Peter’s eyes were ablaze with desire… and challenge.

  I felt the blood racing through my veins in response as my heartbeat accelerated. I opened my mouth to say… I had no idea what to say, when he closed the distance and wrapped his hand around my throat almost as though he were going to choke me. His touch was light as he traced my Adam’s apple with his thumb before curving his hand behind my head and forcing me forward. Our lips touched once again lightly before he plunged his tongue inside my mouth. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so instantly charged with desire. Our tongues dueled as we fought to get closer in the confines of the car. I shifted in my seat, our mouths still fused. When oxygen became a necessity, I pulled back to lick at his full lips, across his jaw and stubbled chin, delighting in the slight cleft, à la Cary Grant, before I made my way back to his open mouth.

  Peter groaned. I could feel the tension in his large frame as he once again forcefully devoured my mouth with long, sure strokes of his tongue. He cupped my face in both of his hands, completely controlling the tempo and cadence of the kiss. But it was more than a kiss. This was sex with tongues. I wanted more. I wanted all of him. I wanted to feel his large hands all over my body. I wanted to feel his heavy, delicious weight cover me.

  But I had to pull back, retreat. This was more than I could take in all at once. I pushed at his chest telling him wordlessly that I need to put the brakes on. He pulled back and stared into my eyes. Our heavy breathing permeated the silence. Peter sat farther back and nodded. I didn’t know what was expected now. Confusion settled over me as I fumbled for the door handle, my gaze looking anywhere but at the man in the seat next to me.

  “I’ll see you Friday.” His voice was low and commanding. It wasn’t a question. It was a reminder.

  “Um… yeah, I’ll see you Friday.”

  I didn’t look back. I opened the truck’s door and bolted out, my hands shaking as I tried to open my own car door. I was aware that Peter’s truck didn’t move until I was safely behind the wheel with my engine on, but everything else was static. I didn’t take my first deep breath until I reached home ten minutes later. What had happened tonight?

  4

  “SO… HOW was last night?” Aaron’s voice singsonged first thing the next morning.

  “You are in big trouble!”

  “Oh.” There was a longer silence than either of us usually let pass. I wanted him to feel at least a little guilty for what he’d set in motion. “I’m sorry, Jay.” He sounded perfectly sincere.

  “It’s okay. It was nice.”

  “Nice? Oh, honey, I’m really sorry.”

  “I said it was nice… it was also confusing and more than a little odd, but overall I think it was nice.”

  “Nice is not an adjective either you or I use. Its rough translation is bor-ing! Is he a bore? He didn’t seem like he would be. He seemed more like a rough-under-a-controlled-and-polished-surface kind of guy. You know… exciting, not nice.”

  “Okay, okay, he wasn’t nice at all.”

  “Was he mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded strangely thrilled at the idea. Weirdo.

  “No. Just really confusing.”

  “Ohhh. Now we’re getting somewhere. Do tell.”

  So I did.

  “I told you so!”

  “What exactly did you tell me?” I checked my reflection in the mirror before glancing at my watch. As much as I wanted to continue this conversation, I had to get to work.

  “He is into you. Your gaydar is off.”

  “It must be. That was the craziest, sexiest kiss ever. I don’t know what to think, though. I’m always guilty of reading too much into things I shouldn’t. Whatever. I just hope he really doesn’t show up at the office today. I need to focus, and he is all kinds of distracting.”

  “You, my friend, are also guilty of not giving yourself enough credit. See what happens Friday. Gawd, I can’t wait to hear all about it! He’ll probably take you to his love lair.”

  I laughed again. Aaron was way too obsessed with vampires for his own good.

  “Or he’ll take me home to introduce me to his wife. He said he didn’t have a girlfriend; he didn’t say wife. Holy shit, A, I hope he’s not hoping for a threesome!”

  We both made gagging sounds into the phone and then busted up giggling. An all-male threesome could be interesting, but female parts just weren’t for me.

  “When did you get to be such a pessimist? Just see where the night takes you.”

  Aaron was right. I decided that’s exactly what I would do. Just see where the night led.

  I RECEIVED a text message Friday midafternoon.

  “Meet me at Level at 8.”

  That’s it. No are we still on? Do you know where that is? No phone call to say, I’ve been thinking about you, have you been thinking about me? I know, silly. I didn’t expect much more but I can’t deny that I felt he was a bit presumptive. Nerves were abandoned in favor of irritation. It was that same exasperation I felt at being told I had to correct another paragraph all over again. Was he socially confused? I couldn’t figure Peter Morgan out.

  I didn’t bother to return his message, hoping that pissed him off a little. And of course I knew exactly where Level was. It was a full concept bar slash restaurant slash disco on R Street in the heart of all that is gay and fabulous in DC. I hadn’t been there in a while, but it was a favorite of my ex. A place to see and be seen. The bartenders and waiters were always shirtless and stunning with cut abs and beautiful smiles. It could be a little intimidating, so I made sure I was dressed to kill. I wore my sexiest tight designer jeans with my brand-new prize purchase: a fitted, sheer black button-down shirt. The light had to be just right to notice the see-through effect. It was hot, if I did say so myself.

  I am famous for arriving late or on “Jay time” as my friends and family say. Never for work or really important things like catching a flight. But when I’m preparing to go out socially, I tend to lose track of time. In an effort to avoid my usual tendency, I set my clock forward. I knew it would be no good to treat this as a professional meeting I wouldn’t dare be late for. Because, although Peter and I worked together, the vibe was all wrong. I would never usually agree to meet anyone from work at a place like Level, and I would never dress quite so… unprofessionally either. I didn’t bother thinking about having my tongue down his throat a couple of nights ago. It would have thrown me off my stride.

  I took a peek at my phone for the correct time and realized I was actually a few minutes early now. Good. I found a seat on a black leather stool at the bar and ordered a cosmo from a shirtless hottie expertly wielding a martini shaker. I flirted with him for a minute before releasing him to make my cocktail. As I turned in my seat, I drank in the titillating atmosphere of the über-hip bar. Every surface in the bar was mirrored or covered in leather. There were cool chandeliers strung with glass beads and silver balls throughout the bar that provided ambient lighting. Long strands of the same material separated the bar from the main dining area. And if memory served correctly, the dance club was adjacent to the bar. I remembered there being stairs, but the entire building looked like it had been remodeled recently. It was very well done, I mused. A gorgeous space with lots of gorgeous, hunky male scenery.

  “Hi. Is this seat taken?”

  “Well, I guess that’s better than ‘do you come here often?’,” I quipped as I turned on my barstool to gr
eet Peter.

  His lips twitched at my lame attempt at humor. I took a moment to study the lines of his strong jaw, his wavy dark hair, and after-five stubble. He was wearing a casual button-down shirt that hugged his broad chest and arms in all the right places and dark form-fitting designer jeans. He looked amazing, delicious, and too sexy for anyone’s good. Especially mine. From the corner of my eye I noticed a hand gesture he made to the bartender, who looked like he literally stopped everything he was doing to serve Peter. He had a drink in his hand within thirty seconds. Wow. Impressive. Mine was delivered a half second later.

  “Come with me.”

  I had rehearsed my line of conversation before I had arrived. I would ask him about the rest of his week and weekend plans and try to lead into what the hell it was he wanted to show me. He stopped me with a look. It was a little dangerous and brooked no argument. I simply got up from my stool and followed. Halfway across the room, I stopped and grabbed Peter’s elbow.

  “I have to pay for my drink.”

  “Don’t worry. I got it.”

  I stared after him, intending to ask when he’d managed paying or even starting a tab without me noticing, but he’d already turned away from me and was walking toward the exit. When he’d almost reached the door, he made a sharp left through a set of heavy beaded curtains, turning once to make sure I was close behind. He spared me a pirate’s smile before making his way up the stairs to the club area above. It was a large, open space furnished with black leather contemporary chaise lounges and ottomans. There was a large dance floor in the middle and at least two full bars that I could see. No one, however, was in the cavernous room except us. Peter and me.

  “This is what I wanted to show you. Come on.”

  I watched him for a moment before I followed as instructed. He looked carefree and excited. This, whatever it was he was showing me with his eyes lit like a child’s on Christmas morning, was the key to who Peter Morgan really was. He walked toward the far end of the expansive area and then stopped abruptly with his arms outstretched, his smile now guarded but not quite hiding his excitement.

  “What do you think?”

  “About?”

  “The club. Do you like it?”

  I made a show of checking out my surroundings, but all I was really interested in was the man standing three feet away. What the hell was he trying to tell me?

  “Peter? Can I call you Peter? Because Mr. Morgan feels a little funny right now.”

  He nodded and chuckled softly.

  “Plain speech here, please. What exactly are you showing me? And don’t skimp on details.”

  He lowered his arms, nodded silently, and moved across the room to a private seating area with a small chaise, two chairs, and a couple of low mirrored tables. He set his drink aside and sat in one of the chairs.

  “Sit.”

  He looked at me long and hard for a few minutes. I hated prolonged silences. My impulse was always to fill them in. I was about to do just that, when he sighed and leaned forward with his forearms braced on his knees. I heard the faint sounds of music, something soft like jazz being played in the background. It was all so sophisticated and surreal, like something special was in the air but I had no way to quantify it. I was in the dark. Finally he spoke, his voice low and sexy.

  “I own it. This place. Well, the truth is I co-own it, but I wanted to….” He gave a half chuckle as though he were laughing at himself before he turned back to me. “You asked me the other night at the restaurant what I was doing in that alley. I’d been here, checking something with the manager, and I was walking to my car when… you know the rest.”

  “O-kay. Um, so what you’re trying to say is…,” I prodded.

  Peter chuckled, sat back, and massaged the back of his neck with his right hand. It was a gesture I’d noticed him make last Saturday night. I sensed I was frustrating him and he was struggling for patience.

  “Really, Jay? I think I’m being pretty clear here. I’m telling you I am part-owner of a gay club in the—how did you put it?—the gayest of the gay part of town. If you didn’t figure it out when I kissed you, I’m telling you now, in plain words that I’m gay. That’s all.”

  I let the words float in the air between us. The music seemed a little louder suddenly, but I couldn’t tell if I was now hypersensitive to my surroundings or if it had been turned up.

  “Cool.”

  “That’s it?” He chuckled again.

  “Well, I have a few questions, I admit. Do you mind?”

  “Go right ahead.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out straight in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was harder to read, but I was used to that now.

  “First of all, why are you telling slash showing me? Second, are you out at work and with the general public? And last one… are you sure?”

  Peter’s impassive expression gave way to a breathtaking full-stop smile. He shook his head and uncrossed his arms as though disarming himself.

  “I’m going to assume you don’t care which order I answer your questions.” He paused politely, so I inclined my head in agreement. “Yes, I’m sure I’m gay.” He smiled again at me. “I can’t think for the life of me why I’d make that up.”

  “Maybe you wanted to be as cool as me…,” I offered to lighten the mood. He smiled at my lame joke.

  “Maybe so. I am out. My family knows, my good friends know, and in a professional sense, if it makes sense that someone I’m working with knows, then I tell him or her.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “Why? I don’t know. I’m…. you are so… I don’t know how to….” He stood up, his agitation evident in his jerky movement. His usual graceful manner forgotten.

  I waited patiently.

  “I’m doing this little school kid ‘show and tell’ thing because I’m… I can’t stop thinking about you. I know we work together and this is inappropriate, but I… I think you’re extremely….” He ran his hand through his thick dark hair and rested it on his neck again, finally stopping to look at me. “Pretty. You’re a little wild and reckless too, not to mention completely fucking odd at times, but maybe that’s part of your charm. I find you insanely attractive. I wish I didn’t. I mean… you know what I mean. This can never happen, but… you interest me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was in shock. I knew before he said the words aloud that he was gay. First of all, that kiss the other night was passionate and real. He didn’t really have to say the words for me to know that he wouldn’t have kissed me like that if he didn’t feel something akin to lust at the very least. So he was gay, or maybe bi. Plus, I have three brothers, all straight, and there is no way in hell any of them would come to a place like this for anything more than a quick drink. The fact he owned it, even partially, spoke volumes. But it was his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability that was my own undoing. He wanted me?

  “Interest? As in I’m interesting?”

  “Yeah. And sexy as hell.”

  His eyes were intense suddenly, and I was grateful for the distance. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for any of this. And frankly, I was still in complete disbelief.

  “I’m flattered. I’m also a little confused.” I stood up and paced the small alcove space. “I won’t ask again after this last time, but… are you sure? You must be, but when did you know?” I blurted.

  He laughed again, a deep, lovely sound that had me smiling in return. “You want my coming-out story?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s not particularly exciting. The short story is that I figured it out in college. I’d had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but the truth is that I was probably a late bloomer. I did what I thought was expected of me. I got good grades, I played sports… football, baseball, and I had a girlfriend. And when it didn’t work out, because hey… I was sixteen and not the most attentive boyfriend… I got another. I didn’t know the real reason I wasn’t all that interested in girls when I wa
s a high school kid.”

  “I knew.”

  “Well, I didn’t allow myself a chance to consider that sex with girls wasn’t as great as all my friends claimed it to be. I remember having sex with this girl once, and she seemed pretty into it, but I was the one shoving my legs back in my jeans wondering what the hell all the fuss was about. It was fine, okay even, but nothing special.”

  He paused and reclaimed his seat in the chair, gesturing for me to do the same. Once I was sitting, he pulled the chair close so the arms touched. Peter gave me a slightly lecherous grin before he resumed his story.

  “Summer in between high school and college, I went to a training camp for football. I played quarterback at UG for two years. I didn’t actually play much, but… whatever. Anyway, a few of us were invited to a frat party by some of the older guys and… well, it was wild. I’d never seen some of the stuff they had at that party. I decided to stick to beer and just observe. Some nice older boy was of a like mind, and we spent the night talking. And then, I swear I can never figure out how we got there, but… next thing I knew we were in a bedroom making out. We didn’t have sex that night, but eventually we did. I knew from the moment I first kissed a guy that I might need to reevaluate my sexuality. It turned me on a hell of a lot more to kiss him than it did to actually have sex with a girl.”

  He laughed humorlessly at his young self, shaking his head as he picked up his drink.

  “It wasn’t a done deal then either. I still had a couple girlfriends in college too.”

  “So you’re bi?”

  “No. I guess I just wanted to be sure. Once I was sure, that was that. I’m gay. Period. I like men. How about you?”

  “Me too.” My voice was reverent and low. We both laughed. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know, Jay. Look, the truth is… I asked you here because I want you to know why I’ve been….”