by A. R. Barley
“You played football.”
“You remembered.”
“Hard to forget a story like that.” Alex finished off his burger in a series of neat bites first. His fingertips drummed across the table and his gaze swept across the bar area like he was looking for something. Or someone.
The redhead and his friend—Lee and Martin—had found a third to take home. Other men were pairing off. There was a dance floor with a jukebox Troy hadn’t seen when they came in, and a few couples had headed in that direction. A man in a pinstriped jacket pulled a handful of quarters from his back pocket and jammed them into place. He bent over and waggled his ass while choosing a song. After a moment’s silence, an oldie came on: “California Dreaming.”
“Want to dance?” Alex asked.
“Have fun.”
“Oh, honey.” He cleaned his fingertips off on the napkin. “I always do.” Haphazard curls bounced around his head as he stood up and meandered across the room.
His body was swaying in time to the beat by the time he reached the dance floor. His long fingers skimmed his torso. Lips twitched. He turned around.
Troy shifted forward onto the edge of his seat. His sister always said he had the rhythm of a spastic orangutan. If he stepped onto the dance floor, he’d embarrass himself.
Alex turned back around. His lips were still moving, singing along with the familiar words. Clearly he didn’t embarrass easy.
To hell with it. Whimsy mixed with adrenaline to propel Troy upward. He tossed a handful of bills on the table to cover their dinner and followed his roommate onto the dance floor. He wasn’t the only one. Other men stepped up. They weren’t being drawn in by the music, not when all eyes were on Alex’s body. His hips. His feet. His ass. The smile on his face. It all added up to perfection.
Troy elbowed another man out of the way to slide into position in front of Alex. “I’m a shitty dancer.” He reached out tentatively, his hands hovering a few inches away from Alex, unsure of what he was supposed to do next.
“Do what feels natural.”
“Pretty sure they beat that out of me during basic training. How about I make a calculated retreat, stock up on supplies, and call in reinforcements?”
“Funny.” Alex grasped Troy’s hands tight and pulled them down against his waist. He wrapped his arms around Troy’s neck. “Shake your booty in time to the music.”
“You think I have a sense of rhythm?”
“So does everyone else.”
“They’re watching you.”
“That’s why they all have their eyes glued to your ass.” Alex did a neat little box step.
When Troy tried to follow, his knee rolled. “Damn it.” Pain radiated out from a pinched nerve. “How’d you do that?”
“I practiced. And I had a good teacher.” Alex’s hands slid down to Troy’s hips. “One, two, three.” Pressure increased first on one side and then another to take him through the steps. “One, two, three.” This time Troy managed to stay upright and uninjured.
“Nice work.” Alex’s eyes were bright. His body kept moving in soft sensual circles.
If the lights were a little lower and they were the only people in the room—
Their bodies came together in just the right way and a sharp groan escaped Troy’s lips. He didn’t need a mirror to know his eyes were lust blown and his cheeks were red with heat. Alex didn’t look away. If anything, he seemed to focus even harder, gazing up into Troy’s eyes like he was the only man in the world.
The music changed into something faster and more upbeat. Lady Gaga? He didn’t recognize the song, and he didn’t care. Other couples split apart to show off more individualized moves, but Alex was still tucked up tight against his body.
An older man in a red scarf bumped into Troy on his way to the jukebox. After a moment’s fumbling, he slammed quarters angrily into the machine. The pop song ended.
The opening chords of the new song were hard to place, but there was no mistaking the lyrics of The All-American Rejects’ “Dirty Little Secret.”
Alex went rigid in his arms. His grip was firm enough to leave a line of small bruises against Troy’s hip.
“You okay?” Troy asked.
“Fine,” Alex said, but he’d stopped dancing entirely. His gaze swept the room until he spotted whatever he was looking for. His gaze narrowed. His breath rasped across his open lips. He broke away from Troy and stomped over to the bar, where Red Scarf was leaning into another man.
What the hell?
If it weren’t for Alex, Troy would have slid his gaze right over the couple at the bar. They were completely unremarkable, stuck in that vague age between their late thirties and their early sixties, wearing jeans in a wash that had been popular a few years earlier. Red Scarf’s sweater was a soft pink. His companion was wearing a tweed blazer with patches on the arms. Tweed Blazer’s hair was the kind of monochromatic brown that could only be found in a bottle.
Red Scarf’s smile was hard and forced. He said something too quiet to be heard across the bar.
Alex looked like he’d been slapped. His shoulders folded inward. His entire body seemed to shrink. He said something to Tweed Blazer and—
The jerk turned away.
Fuck. Troy lunged forward. He’d never been a Ranger, but if there was one motto he could get behind it was Leave No Man Behind. His legs stretched out to eat up the tile floor.
Red Scarf was talking again. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Alex. I thought you’d started going someplace else.” He sniffed. “With people your own age.”
“This a friend of yours?” Troy stepped up to Alex’s side. He itched to wrap his fingers around Alex’s middle and haul him back to safety, but he still didn’t know the lay of the land so he pasted a smile onto his face instead. “Introduce us.”
“Troy, this is Dave,” Alex said.
“And his friend?”
“Daniel.” Tweed Blazer still didn’t turn to look at them. “Dr. Daniel Lafitte.”
Troy cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you David, Daniel.”
“It’s Dave,” Red Scarf said. “That was some show you two were putting on on the dance floor. Lucky you two ran into each other. It’s so hard to find a good dance partner these days.”
Asshole. Troy swallowed hard, forcing down a sharp burst of anger. He took a half step to the right, bringing himself close enough to feel the tension vibrating off Alex’s body. “We came together.”
That got Dr. Daniel Lafitte’s attention. His head whipped around in their direction, he took a half step forward, and—nothing. Not a single word passed his lips.
Dave didn’t have the same issue. “Really? There’s a surprise. Are you dating? Or just friends?”
Troy put a hand on Alex’s hip. “We’re living together.”
“You’re living with this guy?” Daniel’s voice was dry and brittle.
“For a while now.” Troy shifted slightly to display his arms. His muscles were designed for heavy work, hauling his gear and helping on the hose, but more than one man had tripped when he flexed.
Daniel stared at him hungrily.
Color flooded Dave’s cheeks. “Nice show. Shouldn’t you be hanging off a pole somewhere? Then again, like my mama always said, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. Especially if that’s all you’ve got.”
Sirens blared inside Troy’s head. He didn’t know whether to laugh or break the guy’s pretty nose. He chose door number three. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” He bent down to kiss Alex’s cheek because he could. Because no one was going to stop him. “My name’s Troy Barnes, FDNY, and if your house ever catches fire, then you better pray I’m near a pole.”
Chapter Fifteen
In an alternate universe where down was up and Troy Barnes had introduced
himself to Dr. Daniel Lafitte as Alex’s boyfriend, the New York skyline was brighter than any stars. It was like their first night together in reverse. This time it was Troy’s turn to take Alex by the arm and pack him into a yellow cab, but they weren’t hugging opposite ends of the bench either.
Troy’s arm wrapped tight around Alex’s body, pulling him in close as he gave the driver instructions back to the apartment.
“Bueno,” the man said. “Mi primo—my cousin—he used to live around there in the nineties. It was nice back then too, but the rents got out of control.” He frowned at them in the rearview mirror. “You two work over on Wall Street.”
“Fire department,” Troy said.
“New York’s Bravest.” He let out a low whistle. “You guys are awesome. Seriously.”
“We do our best.” Troy swiped his debit card through the machine hooked to the back of the driver’s seat, prepaying so there’d be no lag time when they got to the apartment.
When they finally arrived at their destination it was a matter of thanking the driver and hustling out onto the street. Alex’s head was still fuzzy from the night’s events. He gulped for air and ambled slowly, but Troy didn’t let him fall behind as they made their way into the converted brownstone and up the grand stairs to the second-floor apartment.
Hell, Troy didn’t take his hand off Alex’s arm once the entire time, even though it meant fumbling awkwardly with the locks.
“Come on.” Troy coaxed Alex into the apartment. “Let’s get you something to drink. What do you want? Juice? Beer? I make a mean mug of hot chocolate.”
“We don’t have any cocoa powder.”
“I saw some peppermint tea in one of the cabinets. I’ll make us up a pot. Sound good, honey?”
“You can lay off the pet names, Hero. Daniel’s still back at the restaurant, probably working on his third vodka martini.”
Troy’s shoes landed in a pile next to his surfer boy lamp.
Alex frowned. Troy had been living with him for how long? And all he had to show for it was a dark blue comforter on the daybed and the ugly lamp. “You can decorate if you want.”
“Mess up your pretty things?” Troy shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“It’s just stuff.” Alex could move it. Maybe. He didn’t have a ton of storage space, and he liked his furniture. “Daniel’s apartment is like twice the size. It’s all overstuffed rich guy.” He sighed. “I hated it.”
“What the hell did you ever see in that asshole?”
“It was a long time ago. Ancient history.” Alex slid onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar to watch Troy pad barefoot around the kitchen, turning on the electric kettle and rummaging through an upper cabinet until he finally found the boxes of tea.
It was so freaking domestic.
“I’ve seen him around, but we haven’t spoken in over two years. You believe that? First thing the asshole says to me in two years, and he’s asking if we really live together.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried. “Thanks for that by the way.”
“It was a pleasure.” Troy pulled mugs out of the cabinet beside the sink and retrieved the teapot from the top of the fridge. He didn’t hesitate and he didn’t ask where anything was. Sometime over the past few days he’d made himself at home. “Anytime you want a boyfriend, let me know.”
“I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“Things with Daniel were that bad? What did you see in him anyway? He’s twice your age.”
“I’m twenty-eight.” Alex fiddled with the books that Connie had abandoned on top of the peninsula during her last visit. She better not need her copy of The Giver anytime soon. “Daniel’s fifty.”
“Twenty-two years older.” There was a hard edge to Troy’s voice. “Where’d the two of you meet?”
“Med school.”
“No shit.” The electric kettle clicked off. Troy put a few spoonfuls of tea into the pot then drowned them in water. “The guy who introduced you to Moon River? He’s got good taste in dinner spots and crappy taste in dining companions.”
“It’s not Dave’s fault.” Alex swallowed. He didn’t want to go through the whole torrid story—not again—but the expression on Troy’s face made it clear he wasn’t going to let go. “I was halfway through med school when I met Daniel. He was a professor. My first day in infectious diseases, he was behind the lectern. I sat in the front row and batted my eyes at him like a high school cheerleader.”
“He took advantage of you.”
“No.” Alex was firm about that. “I wanted it. I asked him out a week into the semester. He turned me down, and then he turned me down again right after finals.”
The furrow in Troy’s brow was deep enough to plant crops in. He leaned back against the kitchen counter. Muscles bulged and the thin cotton of his T-shirt bunched together to reveal a stripe of golden skin across his belly.
Hoo boy. Alex forced his gaze aside, but this wasn’t the firehouse. He could look his fill. He drummed his fingers against the counter. When he looked back it was more than a thin stripe of skin. It was a solid six inches of glistening pectorals.
Blood flowed downward to plump his cock.
“Keep talking,” Troy said.
“My third year, I got back to school in September and the news was all over campus. Daniel had broken up with his boyfriend over the summer.”
It had been a sign, back when he believed in signs, but Alex had been turned down too many times to be bold.
“I wasn’t going to ask him out again—I had some self-respect—but he tracked me down and asked me out. We went out for burgers on our first date. He seemed so down to earth, and I got swept up in everything. It was amazing. We dated for a little over a semester. We were in love—” His words caught in his throat and he corrected himself. “I was in love. Maybe. I think.”
The tea was probably ready, but Troy didn’t turn away. He didn’t move an inch. He was too busy looking at Alex, not talking, just watching him with those big green eyes to let him know he was still listening. He was still there.
“It was never going to last.” Alex was speaking in a normal tone, he was sure, but that didn’t stop Troy from leaning closer. “One day everything was fine and the next he’d made up with his old boyfriend—Dave. I guess they weren’t as broken up as everybody said.”
“Fuckhead.”
“You sound like Connie.”
“She’s a smart girl.”
“My sisters offered to castrate him.”
“Good for them.”
It would be so damn easy to stop talking and let Troy think that was Alex’s big secret: he was still pining over Dr. Daniel Lafitte.
The fuckhead.
But Troy couldn’t be more wrong. Alex had stopped pining for Daniel ages ago.
“I guess I didn’t love him after all because I didn’t fight for him. I didn’t even want to. One day we were together and the next we were over. I thought—” His breath caught in his throat. “I told you, I’m not built for relationships. Being someone’s boyfriend, that means fighting for them.”
“It’s okay.”
It really wasn’t. Alex swallowed, hard. “That’s not the worst part.”
Troy’s eyebrow lifted. “You caught them in a three-way with your high school guidance counselor,” he guessed. “In your bed.”
Alex’s laughter was bitter and sharp. “I was living with my parents at the time.” He slumped forward against the countertop. “That would have been easier.”
“Hmm.” He turned and poured the tea out into oversized mugs, placing Alex’s next to his hand before retreating back to his earlier position.
“You’ve got to give me a hint. Humiliation. Embarrassment. Sexually transmitted diseases.” His voice was full of dark humor. “Let me guess, he go
t Dave pregnant and gave you five days to move out of your apartment.”
“Sorry, but that’s still all you.” Alex lifted his head and took a sip of the tea. It could use a shot of whiskey—or three.
“My parents wanted all of us to get a good start in life, but kids are expensive. They helped with undergrad—City University of New York—but med school might as well have been the moon.” Alex sighed. “It was impossible, unthinkable. So I worked my ass off to get that damn scholarship. A full ride. Books. Tuition. Everything for four years. Guaranteed. The renewal meetings were supposed to be a formality, but then one of the committee members kicked the bucket and they got Daniel to replace him. Our relationship was considered a conflict of interest.”
“Damn.”
“Nice turn of phrase.”
It still failed to capture the despair Alex felt standing in the registrar’s office being told that his scholarship was gone.
After all this time, thinking about it still caused explosions in his chest. Not the good kind. These weren’t pretty fireworks. They were atomic bombs full of pain and anxiety that threatened to collapse his heart and crush his veins. His half-formed erection was gone.
“What about student loans?” Callused fingers laced through his, their grip warm and reassuring. “I mean, I didn’t do the whole four-year thing, and definitely not graduate school, but I know people with student loans.”
Every breath brought with it the scent of Troy’s body—clean soap and manly sweat—mixed with the strong peppermint from the tea. The spark of lust he’d felt watching Troy’s shirt ride up was back and it had brought friends.
He clenched his hands tight.
They were talking about student loans.
“By the time I found out the scholarship was gone, it was too late to apply for loans. I could have waited a year and gone back, but it would have cost a damn fortune.” His family had suggested it, a lot. Every time they’d brought up the suggestion the air had vanished from his lungs. He’d ended up hiding under a pile of blankets until one of his siblings dragged him out. “They wanted me to pay back the money for the three years I’d already attended.”