What Happened in Vegas

by Gwen Martin

  “Wha—” Luke begins, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. The room has tilted on its axis and he feels like his stomach has fallen out of his body and onto the floor. He shakes his head in disbelief, “No, that’s not true—”

  “Luke,” Annelise says very slowly, drawing out his name as if he’s really, really, daft. “I’m going out on a limb here, but dudes who’ve known each other since they were in diapers don’t just give each other orgasms for funsies.” She raises her fingers in quotes to emphasize the ridiculousness of the situation, punctuating the last word.

  Luke rolls his head to the ceiling and sighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, for one, you are leaving early. You look like shit and you will make my job ten times harder by mucking everything up.”

  Luke’s eyes widen. “What if he’s at the apartment and—”

  Anneliese slants a hard stare at him. “Then you talk to him.” She rises from the chair and straightens out her pencil skirt. “He may not want to listen, but you have to make the effort. Otherwise, he thinks you don’t care.” Annelise heaves a bored sigh. “I swear, the patriarchy always makes it out to be like the women are the ones who are all emotional and shit, but guys are just as ridiculous. He looked like he wanted to punch you in the face.”

  Luke shrugs. “Maybe I deserve it.”

  “If I recall correctly, Jesse was the one who asked you to be his fake boyfriend to get back at Sheila. You definitely won in the creative department, but he was putting forth a lot in danger from the start.” Annelise walks over and brushes a gentle hand through Luke’s hair. “Cheer up, buttercup. I promise your boy will see how much he misses you and beg for you back.”

  Luke smiles wanly. “Is it stupid if I say I hope so?”

  “Nah.” Annelise smiles, walking over to the door. “Just makes you a romantic.”

  Luke lets out a dramatic gag and Annelise laughs as she leaves the office. He takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly.

  Okay, new plan: Get Jesse to talk to him.

  The apartment is quiet when Luke steps inside. He can tell Jesse’s been there, because there are a few things laying in the living room that weren’t there before. Items that Luke had left in Jesse’s room—a random pair of pajama pants, a pair of boxers, and a t-shirt of Luke’s that Jesse wore claiming it was his favorite.

  He swallows through the tightness in his throat and grabs all the items off the floor, one by one, tossing them into the washer and slamming the lid shut.

  Little parts of Jesse have vanished: his guitars, two pairs of his shoes, and his backpack that remains a constant heap on the floor. It used to drive Luke insane, but now he misses it. He misses everything.

  Luke pulls out his phone to find that he doesn’t have any messages. He inhales a shaky breath, unlocks his phone and types, I know I fucked this up hard, but I think we need to talk. I’m here when you’re ready and then turns his phone off. Annelise has a key to his apartment, she can get in if she wants to come see him.

  He takes a scalding hot shower, scrubs away at his skin until it’s pink, and falls flat into his bed. The faint scent of Jesse is in his pillows and he pulls it close to his face, takes in a deep inhale and tries not to let the emotion that twists in his chest and gut cause him to cry.

  The dip of the bed startles Luke awake, drool dribbling down his face and his eyes squinting in front of him. His mouth feels ashy and tastes like musky ass. When his vision settles, he sees Annelise sitting down next to him. She’s tossed her hair up into a sloppy ponytail and traded her work attire for something more comfortable: leggings and a t-shirt that says Liberals for Gay Space Exploration and Socialism.

  It’s always been a favorite of hers.

  Annelise tilts her head like a curious cat, and smiles. “Awake?”

  “Mmrrph.” Luke flops back down onto the bed. He tries to speak again but everything that comes out sounds like he’s a zombie from a Michael Bay movie.

  “Okay, up,” Annelise says with a soft pat on Luke’s leg. “I brought food provisions, beer, and two terrible movies from Redbox. The perfect trifecta for you to tap into your inner Bridget Jones, as you so eloquently have waxed poetic about.”

  Luke pops his head up, his eyes remaining closed. “Does this include ice cream?”

  “Yup.”

  “Cherry Garcia?”

  “You bet.”

  Luke scrambles upward and doing an incredible bit of bed yoga get around Annelise. “Well, why didn’t you start with that?”

  They end up spending the evening sprawled out on the couch, socked feet between them and snuggling under a large blanket. Thai takeout containers scatter the coffee table, and Luke takes one last bite of ice cream and hands the pint back to Annelise in defeat.

  “I’ll have to run twenty miles to make up for what I just ate,” Luke whines.

  “Oh hush,” Annelise admonishes, poking the last of the ice cream before capping it and putting it back on the table. “You run like ten miles a day and one night of food indulgence will not kill you.”

  Luke leans forward, ignoring the action movie playing on the TV, and snatches a fortune cookie. “Why does this Thai place offer fortune cookies?” he wonders, pulling at the packaging and breaking the cookie, and fishing out the tiny paper.

  “What does it say?” Annelise asks, following suit after Luke.

  “Take the chance while you still have the choice,” Luke reads. He turns to Annelise and catches her smiling.

  “Even the cookie is speaking to you, Turner. Now put your big boy pants on and giddy up.”

  Eleven

  Jesse

  The coffee shop is quiet for being the end of the week and around lunchtime, but Jesse still finds a spot in the back corner. It’s been three days since he’s talked to Luke. Three days since he essentially attacked him in the parking lot of his job. Shame burns inside of Jesse every time he thinks about it.

  When he told Luke that he was moving out, Jesse sped home, grabbed a few bits of clothing, his guitar and equipment and a few toiletries. He looked around the rampage that was his room and saw the small reminders of Luke and threw those out into the living room. He ended up at Aiden’s, who took one look at him, shook his head with sadness, and opened the door wider to allow Jesse in.

  Jesse put all of his thoughts into work. Into writing. Into making music. But every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Luke’s hazel eyes crinkling in the corners as he laughed, the teasing waggle of his eyebrows, his sharp wit. All he could see was his auburn hair spread out on a pillow as Jesse lay over him, watching in wonder as Luke gasped when Jesse touched him.

  Eventually Aiden had enough and told Jesse to text Luke back. Luke had only reached out one time, and Aiden told Jesse to stop being a coward and do something.

  “Also, your sulking is getting too far,” he had said. “You’re affecting my inner peace.”

  So finally, finally, Jesse texted Luke and asked if they could meet up for coffee. Somewhere public. Because Jesse didn’t know if he could trust his body to not cave in and push Luke against the nearest wall and kiss him breathless if they met at the apartment.

  Jesse monitors the door, his stomach turning and heart beating at rabbit pace. He has a terrifying moment of Luke standing him up, giving him the fuck you Jesse deserves. He should have never asked him to put on the charade of a relationship with him.

  That weekend in Vegas opened up something new inside of Jesse, something he had never felt before.

  It’s pathetic, but Jesse looks through Luke’s Instagram again. He hasn’t updated it since Vegas, and the questions of Jesse’s “marriage” continue to bombard his inbox. He’s attempted to ignore every single one of them, because he’s not ready to tell everyone that the marriage was just a very elaborate scheme to stick it to his ex. He doesn’t want to involve Luke in any more of this than he has to.

  The roar of traffic fills the tiny cafe, and Jesse’s head jerks up to find Luke wal
king in and studying the surroundings until his eyes settle on Jesse. He looks beautiful in a bright blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the top exposing his collarbones, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dove gray dress pants sit tight around his thighs. His hair is a mess, but it looks on purpose.

  Jesse is so fucked. His dick is already responding, which means he must deal with an erection and reconciling with his best friend. Perfect.

  Luke walks over, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stands a healthy distance from the table, waiting. They don’t speak for a long time until Luke sucks in a deep breath, nods to the table and asks, “Whatcha drinking?”

  Jesse peers down at the forgotten drink, the decorative heart sinking. “Um, cappuccino.”

  With a nod, Luke turns and goes to the counter to order a drink, his famous blinding smile making its way across his face as he speaks, leaving the barista tilting her head back and laughing. Luke nods at something on the menu, makes use of wild hand gestures and walks away, leaving the barista chuckling.

  “What was that all about?” Jesse says, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

  “Just talking about the difficulties of barista life,” Luke replies with a sigh, pulling out the chair and sitting down, folding his hands in front of him on the table. He doesn’t make eye contact with Jesse for a long while, the air thick with tension. Jesse watches as Luke chews on his bottom lip before he speaks. “I’m really sorry.”

  Jesse’s eyes widen in surprise. Luke’s voice sounds tired and sad, and Jesse wants to reach forward touch him so bad it hurts. Instead he swallows around the spiky feeling in his throat and says, “You don’t have to apologize.”

  Now it’s Luke’s turn to widen his eyes in response. “What are you talking about? I lied to you about—”

  “I brought you into this mess. I asked you to do something that was, frankly, really fucking stupid. I was too worried and overwhelmed about Sheila that I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the whole business of my brand and my name and my pride.” Jesse shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

  Luke’s mouth parts, a crease between his eyebrows forming. He chews on his lip again, his hands spreading out flat on the table. “I...I wanted that with you, you know. Not the—not the fake part of it, not pretending, but...I wanted to be with you. And I thought even if it’s not real, it could at least give me some spank bank material.”

  Jesse laughs low, rubbing a hand over his face. “Luke Turner, always worrying about the state of his dick.”

  Luke gives a dramatic wide-eyed innocent stare. “Are you not? You know your dick will protest about its neglect.”

  The barista calls out Luke’s name for his order. When he rises from his seat, the chair scratches across the tiled floor, making Jesse’s nerves on edge. Luke smiles at the barista who laughs one last time and goes back to her duties behind the counter. It’s the most he’s seen her laugh and smile since he’s been here.

  It occurs to Jesse how much he’s missed this. How much Luke has always been there for him, encouraged him, laughed with him, rallied for him. Jesse wants Luke there every day for the rest of his life and it hits him with the most blinding clarity ever that Sheila was right. She was right all along.

  “I miss you,” Jesse blurts before Luke has a chance to settle into the chair. “I miss waking up next to you, I miss seeing you in the morning, and I miss talking with you. It’s strange because when I was with Sheila all I wanted to do was find a place to be quiet, to be alone with my thoughts but with you—It’s different. Everything is different.”

  Luke’s mouth gapes for a moment before he huffs a laugh and says, “What you’re saying is that Sheila never knew when to shut up, and I do.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Jesse rests his hands on his knees and braces himself, begging for the strength to say what he feels out loud. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he’s certain he’s sweating. “When Sheila and I broke up, she said I was in love with you.”

  Luke’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his mouth gaping. “What?” he whispers.

  Jesse rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. And at the time I thought she was just trying to be cruel, you know? Like, I thought it hurt her that we were breaking up and it pissed her off she didn’t come up with the idea first. I also thought maybe she was hating the idea she had to tell all of her fans about our inevitable demise, although we played it up like we happy together.”

  Luke doesn’t speak for a long time, his hands balling into fists onto the table. His voice is so low it’s a mere whisper. “Is it true?”

  “That we pretended to be happier than we were?”

  Luke shakes his head. When he speaks his voice is low and raspy. “No, the other part. About what she said.”

  “Oh.” Jesse swallows hard, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah,” he whispers, “Yeah, it’s true.”

  Luke stands up so fast that his chair knocks over, and Jesse barely has a moment to register the clatter because Luke is pulling him up by the arm, his hands cupping his face and crushing his mouth against his.

  The kiss is frantic and intense and fucking perfect. Jesse’s eyes flutter shut, his hands landing on Luke’s hips, pulling him closer so that their bodies flush together. When Luke pushes past Jesse’s lips with his tongue, Jesse’s eyes flutter and the sensation goes straight to his dick.

  He breaks the kiss just to save himself from dry humping Luke in public. Luke whines, his mouth searching for Jesse’s again, and Jesse chuckles, leaning in and giving him a small kiss. He rests his forehead against Luke’s wrapping his arms around Luke’s waist.

  “Goddamn,” Luke whispers, his lips move against Jesse’s. “Why are we here still? Can we leave? I want you naked, like, now.”

  “Someone’s needy,” Jesse teases.

  “Someone’s horny,” Luke corrects.

  “Don’t you have to go back to work or something?” Jesse asks, with a grin.

  He feels like he’s floating six feet above the ground, careless and free. Luke scoffs and grabs for Jesse’s hand.

  “You seriously underestimate the potency of my wiles.”

  Jesse snorts. “Your what?”

  “My wiles!” Luke declares and then rolls his eyes. “Dude, you need to expand your vocabulary. I cannot have my boyfriend on a third grade reading level.”

  Jesse’s heart skips and he can’t help the smile forming on his face. “Boyfriend, huh?”

  “You think I’m gonna let you walk away single after that little confession? Absolutely not.” Luke squeezes Jesse’s hand. “Annelise made some excuse about me having food poisoning and I think she went into great detail about the bathroom that left everyone a bit...unwell. I’m not expected back in the office for at least two days.”

  Jesse brushes his lips against Luke’s ear, and rumbles, “What shall we do in the meantime?”

  Luke shudders, his stare growing heated, a salacious smile breaking onto his face. “Oh, believe me, I have some ideas.”

  Twelve

  Luke

  Jesse insists he drive, which means that he teeters on the edge of getting them killed on the drive back to the apartment. Luke doesn’t protest because Jesse has his hand between his legs, which leaves Luke panting and too distracted to worry about the state of his well-being.

  It takes several tries for Luke to unlock the apartment, Jesse’s hands dancing over his chest and down to the front of his pants. The hardness of his cock pushes into Luke’s ass, and Luke has to place a palm on the door to steady himself, and before he even realizes he’s pushing back into Jesse, circling his hips and earning a delightful moan.

  Jesse mouths at Luke’s neck, biting down hard before whispering against the abused skin, “Open the door. Now.”

  Luke nods, unable to speak around the warmth flowing through his veins. His body thrums with want, the desire high to get Jesse’s hands all over his skin as s
oon as possible. He wants to taste Jesse again, fill his mouth with his cock and swallow him down.

  The moment the get inside, Luke has Jesse slammed against the door, his mouth peppering kisses over his stubbled jaw and down his neck. He licks at the pulse point, earning a low groan that sends him wild, and grinds his hips against Jesse’s. Jesse tugs out Luke’s shirt, reaching for his belt and pants.

  “Clothes off,” Jesse commands, his voice rough.

  Luke pulls back and unbuttons his shirt until it’s opened at the middle of his chest and then tugs it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. Jesse watches, licking his lips, his gaze filled with naked desire.

  “I’m not standing here naked as the day I was born alone,” Luke says as he kicks off his shoes in the corner and starts tugging off his pants. “You better get on it too, or this will be a one man show without admission.”

  Jesse quickly kicks off his shoes and tugs off his t-shirt, working open his jeans to reveal he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Luke lifts a curious eyebrow, the sight of Jesse’s hard cock poking out of the top almost too much to bear. Luke walks over, brushing a knuckle down Jesse’s chest, pressing his hand onto his stomach, sliding his fingers over Jesse’s pubic hair. When he wraps his hand around the base of Jesse’s dick, Jesse grabs for Luke’s neck and presses their mouths together on a moan.

  Luke glides his hand over to the back of Jesse’s ass, squeezing as he bites down on Jesse’s bottom lip. “Commando? Thought you’d get lucky?”

  “More like I ran out of clean underwear,” Jesse admits.

  His hair is a mess from Luke’s hands, his cheeks flushed, eyes wild, and Luke really does love him, he really does. He pushes on Jesse’s jeans, presses his foot down the middle so Jesse can get out of them without tripping them both over and makes quick work of his own underwear.