What Happened in Vegas

by Gwen Martin

  “I want to touch you,” Jesse pants, biting down on Luke’s neck when Luke twists his wrist just right.

  “Do it,” Luke hisses in command, and curses when Jesse wraps a tight palm around him.

  It doesn’t take long after that, their hands working fast and sloppy against each other. Their wrists bump into each other twice, and Jesse knocks his head into Luke’s, and they laugh at the ridiculousness before starting back up again.

  Something always comes alive inside of Luke when he’s with Jesse and now it’s even more magnified when he’s touching him, watching the way his forehead creases a little when Luke strokes him just right, the way his eyes flutter when Luke circles his thumb in a way that makes Jesse lose control and babbles.

  “Oh my god, oh my god,” Jesse rambles, mouthing at Luke’s jaw. “I’m going to—fuck kiss me, please just—”

  The desperation and ragged edge of Jesse’s voice sends Luke over and he turns his head, catching Jesse’s mouth against his as he feels him spill over his hand and onto his hip. Jesse’s moans against Luke’s mouth, his tongue as desperate as he sounds. When they break apart, Jesse collapses on top of him, groaning at the stickiness between them.

  “Fuck,” Jesse whispers. “Holy fucking shit.”

  “Yeah,” Luke agrees, his clean hand brushing circles over Jesse’s shoulder. “Should definitely try that again soon.”

  Jesse chuckles, sliding off the bed and walking to the bathroom.

  “Stay there,” he commands, as he makes his way to the other side of the room.

  When he returns he is carrying a washcloth and has cleaned himself off. After he’s cleaned Luke, he taps at his hip and he scoots over, pulling back the duvet and getting underneath the warmth of the duvet.

  Luke turns into the soft downy pillows and closes his eyes. Jesse curls up next to him, a hand resting on his hip, and he hooks an ankle over Luke’s calf.

  “We could do this,” Jesse murmurs the tenor of his voice heavy with sleep. He leaves an open mouth kiss against Luke’s shoulder. “You know, for real.” There’s a long pause and then a sharp intake of breath, and Jesse chuckles low. “Except for the marriage part. A bit too soon for that. But we can fix that without too much trouble, right?”

  Luke takes Jesse’s hand and places it in the middle of his chest, right against his heart. He closes his eyes, hoping that the touch will dissipate the aching tightness that sits inside, tries to think of the words to say to Jesse, to let him know the truth. He opens his mouth, the words circling around his tongue like so: I’m sorry but—

  There’s a soft snore from Jesse and Luke sighs.

  He’ll tell him when he gets back to LA. For now, Luke scoots back into the warmth of Jesse’s body, and closes his eyes, allowing sleep to pull over him.

  It doesn’t take long for Annelise to storm into Luke’s office at work, her arms crossed over her chest, an angry frown formed on her mouth. Luke sets aside the document he was reviewing, and clasps his hands together, resting them on the top of the desk.

  “Need help with the Harrison case?”

  Annelise kicks the door shut behind her with much more force than necessary. She pulls out her phone, the crease between her eyebrows growing deeper. Luke inhales a fortifying breath. This isn’t good.

  “Says right here that you got married in Vegas. Hashtag Instalove? Hashtag flamingos are in? Hashtag--”

  Luke bites down on his lip before finally saying, “Okay, I get the point.”

  Annelise places the tip of her finger against her chin. “Last I heard you were just pretending to be Jesse’s boyfriend, not become his husband.”

  “It’s not what you—”

  “No!” Annelise nearly yells. Luke winces and prays that no one can hear her. “What do you think you’re doing, Luke? This is insane!” Annelise’s hands wave wildly around her, the screen flashing on and off as she continues on her rampage. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You will only get yourself hurt!”

  Luke unclasps his hands to rest his palms on the surface of his desk. “Annie, will you please sit down?”

  “Don’t you placate me, Luke Turner. I am not in the mood—”

  “Goddamnit, Annelise, just sit down!”

  Annelise huffs and sits, crossing her arms over her chest again, breaths coming out in angry huffs. Luke swallows around the growing lump in his throat.

  “We’re not married,” Luke begins, and raises a hand when Annelise tries to interrupt. “We never went to the courthouse.”

  “But how is it—” Annelise peers down at her phone in confusion. Her eyes widen as she pieces everything together. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “He doesn’t know.”

  Luke slumps back into his chair. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Holy shit, Luke. That’s...it’s on his Instagram. You have like fifty selfies and a picture of rings!”

  Luke lifts his shoulder into a noncommittal shrug. “He thinks we will get it annulled. Figures that since I work for my dad, we can expedite it. So the intention wasn’t to stay married. It was just to—”

  The words fail him.

  What was the whole point of this?

  Had they taken this whole getting back at Sheila thing too far? While Luke teases Jesse for his secondhand fame on social media, the truth is he has damn near a million followers to Sheila’s several. What the hell did he get himself into? If Annelise knows what is going on that means all of their mutual friends, and everyone in the office...Even Luke’s mother has an Instagram. She’s not very knowledgeable about it and barely uses it but—

  “Oh my god,” Luke whispers, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I am so screwed.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Annelise says. “You gotta fix this. This shit isn’t going viral now that Sheila’s married, but lucky for you there are some side blogs talking about it and wondering if it was all for show. Which, celebs pull these stunts all the time. Hell, people questioned if Miley Cyrus was engaged for months when that shit went down.”

  “He doesn’t know, though,” Luke mutters into his hands. His stomach roils, and he has the sudden urge to run to the toilet. “Oh my god I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Annelise mutters, grabbing for the trash can, and shoving it in front of Luke’s face. “If you upchuck in front of me, you owe me tacos for life.”

  Luke doesn’t throw up. Instead he hyperventilates, his heart pattering at a rapid pace as it twists into a vice grip. Annelise removes the trash can, sets it aside, and places two cool hands on his burning neck.

  “Hey,” she says in a soft and calm voice. “Luke, look at me. There you go. Okay, we’re gonna take a slow deep breath together, all right?”

  Luke nods, his hands gripping tighter onto his knees. They take in several breaths together until tightness and the urge to throw up dissipates. Luke realizes he’s sweating.

  “Better?” Annelise asks, a wry smile tilting on her lips.

  Luke takes in another full deep breath and exhales.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair. “What the hell happened?”

  Annelise stands, leaning against Luke’s desk. “That is what we call a panic attack, my friend. Which means you’re a hot-ass mess.”

  Luke bites his bottom lip, glancing down at the naked ring finger on his left hand. He certainly doesn’t want to be fake married, but he doesn’t want to lose Jesse in all of this. He’s had that touch of a fantasy that he’s been dreaming about since he sat in Jesse’s bedroom as an awkward teen watching him wet his lips as he tried to master a song on his guitar he heard on the radio.

  “Okay, so here’s what we will do,” Annelise says with a soft clap of her hands. “You will fess up about this ridiculous situation you’ve placed yourselves into, he will release a statement about how it was a joke with Sheila. The following he has aren’t a bunch of sanctimonious assholes who think marriage is precious. They just think he’s hot. What?” Annelise snips whe
n Luke raises an eyebrow. “Just because I think you’re stupid for doing this doesn’t mean I don’t have your back.”

  Luke chokes on a hollow laugh. “Okay. Let’s start with this Annelise’s taco fund.”

  “You’re a scholar and a gentleman, Luke Turner,” Annelise praises. “Don’t you forget that.”

  Nine

  Jesse

  Aiden comes into the studio with two cups of iced coffee from Peets and a shit-eating grin on his face. Jesse rolls his eyes, focusing on setting up the mix board and reaches his hand out and wiggles his fingers for the drink.

  “Someone’s impatient,” Aiden chirps happily. He sits in his chair, handing over the coffee. The smirk on his face is too knowing, too obvious. “Shall I extend my congratulations?”

  Jesse groans, continuing his task and ignoring the burn of his cheeks. “Shut up. We’re getting it annulled. It was a drunk step too far to get back at Sheila.”

  Aiden whistles. “That’s ballsy.”

  “You could say that again,” Jesse mutters.

  Things with Luke have been...strange since leaving the addicting fantasy of Las Vegas.

  They haven’t fooled around since, but they have both been exceedingly more tactile with one another, soft brushes of fingertips against the back of the neck, a hand resting on a hip, curling against each other as they watch television.

  One night, Luke slipped into Jesse’s bed, never saying a word, their only communication the draping of a heavy arm over Jesse’s middle, hand splayed on his belly. It made something shift inside of Jesse, something deep and profound and he’s unable to shake since.

  “Did you have to deal with the clerk of courts hassle?” Aiden asks as he sits next to Jesse, pulling out his phone. “I hear it’s a huge pain in the ass.”

  Jesse furrows his eyebrows and turns to Aiden. “What?”

  Aiden blinks. “The clerk of courts? For the marriage license? My cousin got married in Vegas and rushed to make it to the courthouse because they close at like five and everyone’s always scrambling to get the paperwork in order.”

  Something drops out of Jesse’s body right onto the floor.

  “What?” he whispers.

  “Dude, are you hearing me?” Then Aiden’s eyes widen a little, concern painted over his face. “Hey, you okay?”

  Jesse swallows hard. “We never went to the—” He waves a hand in front of him. “We just signed something at…” Then he shakes his head, because he can’t finish, his tongue heavy.

  Aiden rolls closer in his chair and reaches out placing a hand on Jesse’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay, man. Maybe they changed things and they allow—”

  Jesse shakes his head, that burn of betrayal sitting sour in his stomach, in his throat. It stings in his eyes and he blinks rapidly to hide the evidence that threatens to show. “No,” he whispers. “No, that doesn’t make sense.”

  He jolts up, the chair close to capsizing. The band is heading into the studio, and Jesse gives Aiden a pleading look. Aiden sighs, and puts his finger up to the band, asking for five minutes, resting an elbow at the edge of the mix board.

  “I have to get out of here,” Jesse says. He’s not shocked his voice is shaking. “I won’t be able to concentrate and I’ll fuck this all up and I just—I have get the fuck out of here.”

  “Okay,” Aiden says, placidly. “That’s cool. But listen...whatever happens, call me, okay? You seriously look like you are gonna shit or throw up.”

  Jesse gives a humorless laugh. “I might do both.”

  Aiden’s nose scrunches up in distaste. “Yeah, you better leave pronto, amigo. I can’t explain that to the band.”

  Jesse says a quick thanks and makes his way to the parking lot. His mind is only on one thing, and the answers are from Luke.

  Jesse knows that Luke works at his father’s office as a more eloquent assistant paralegal slash office manager. He knows that Luke struggles with working for his father. Most of the time enjoys the job but has wanted a little more responsibility. Jesse’s tried to encourage Luke to just take the leap and find his passion, what speaks to him, but Luke keeps settling for the status quo. He’s sure Luke’s father’s pressure has something to do about that.

  Turner, Richardson, and Chambers Law Firm is housed in a skyscraper by LA standards. It took years for Luke’s father to gain the whole building, but he did so through hard work and a lot of determination. Jesse’s been to this building countless times to share lunch with Luke up the road at his favorite taco stand or to grab Luke before heading home when their work schedules overlapped.

  Jesse doesn’t even bother worrying about the sign stating whose reserved parking space he’s parked in, too determined to find Luke and get the answers he deserves. His shirt is sticking to his back, and when he stumbles out of his car he spots Luke near the building’s entrance with Annelise.

  They’re laughing.

  It makes Jesse’s blood boil.

  He doesn’t know how many steps he takes to get into Luke’s space. All Jesse can see is the surprised round “o” shape of Luke’s mouth when he catches Jesse stalking up to him, the sharp gasp of surprise when Jesse grabs onto his dress shirt and tugging him close so that their faces are a breath apart. Annelise shrieks beside them, and starts demanding that Jesse let Luke go, but Jesse only grips tighter.

  “You lied to me,” Jesse sneers. “You knew that little stunt we played wasn’t real, and I’ve been stressing for days thinking we were—”

  Jesse can’t even finish his sentence, swallows hard around the knot forming in his throat.

  Luke’s mouth opens and closes several times, like a fish begging for water. It twists something inside of Jesse, makes everything coil tight and his organs feel like they are squeezing together. He can’t breathe.

  “Jesse,” Luke says in a plaintive voice, and Jesse grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Didn’t mean what?” Jesse demands, shaking Luke a second, and Annelise’s hands are on his shoulder pushing him back and Jesse allows her. He turns to Annelise, her expression wild and furious, turns to Luke’s rapid breathing, cheeks flushed and shirt crumpled. “You made me look like a fucking idiot, you know that? You come up with these wild ideas and I get roped into them—”

  “Hey!” Annelise snaps, pushing onto Jesse’s shoulder and it sends him stumbling a little. “You want to be pissed off, fine, but don’t come up here and believe you can assault Luke and expect me to not kick you in the goddamn balls. Because I will.” She wiggles a finger between the two of them. “You guys have some serious shit to work through and it’s not about the legality of your fucking fake marriage. So you,” she points to Jesse. “Go home, take a nap, and cool the fuck down, and I’ll handle this.”

  Jesse opens his mouth and Annelise cuts him off with a sharp noise that sounds one part banshee and one part animalistic. He’s got a solid half a foot on her, but Jesse knows that dynamite comes in small packages and he’s not in the mood to get blown up today.

  “I’m moving out,” he says in a low tone, his eyes boring into Luke. “This whole thing was a mistake, and I regret every second.”

  Jesse doesn’t wait for Luke’s response. When he makes back into his car, he realizes that he’s sweating all over, and he’s breathing hard. He chances a glance to see Annelise gliding a gentle arm through Luke’s, and guiding him inside of the building, his shoulders slumped and his shirt still a mess. Some of it became untucked in the middle of their fight, and Jesse’s rests his forehead on the steering wheel, tries to blink back the burning in his eyes.

  He reverses the car out of the parking lot, kicks the air conditioning down to as cold as it can go, and drives away.

  Ten

  Luke

  Luke slumps into his office chair, burying his face in his hands. Everyone saw the disheveled shirt, and the obvious way Luke looked distraught. Humiliation burns everywhere and he’s eternally grateful that his father is out of town on some random conference back east, showing of
f the firm’s name or some shit. Luke always tunes his father out when he goes on his excited speeches about building the family practice so that one day Luke can take over.

  It’s not his dream and never will be.

  But he doesn’t want to be the office gossip. Everything is ruined with Jesse and now Luke has to face the rest of his day trying to focus on people’s divorces and prenups and a bunch of legal bullshit that he doesn’t care about. He cares about Jesse, cares about the way he makes him laugh, the way his face is grumpy in the morning when he first wakes up, cares about the way his eyebrows crease together right before he comes undone under Luke’s touch.

  “Oh my God,” Luke moans into his hands. “I am so fucked.”

  The squeak of leather shows that Annelise hasn’t left Luke alone. “I don’t know if you’re ‘so fucked’, hon, but you’ve mucked some shit up.” There’s a pause for a few beats before she speaks again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Luke shoots Annelise a narrowed stare. “I planned to say something, it just wasn’t the right—”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there because your bullshit is stinking up this entire office and I’m wearing my good skirt today,” Annelise says with a raise of her hand. “You didn’t tell him because you liked the fantasy of it all, right? I mean, of course you’re not interested in being married, but you enjoy being in a relationship with him so much that you risked it all… for what? A couple of orgasms?”

  “A couple of mind-blowing, incredible orgasms,” Luke mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, mea culpa! I didn’t tell him because it scared me that he would react exactly the way he did.”

  Annelise puffs out an exasperated sigh. “God, you both should be lucky that you’re so good looking because you two are the biggest disasters ever. Do you believe he came at you like that because your supposed marriage was not real?” Luke turns to her, face blank and Annelise rolls her eyes. “He’s not mad that you had a fake fucking marriage, Luke, he’s freaking out about the fact that you lied to him. He’s in love with you, you idiot!”