Take It Outside (Trailhead #1)

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Adrian

I ’m nervous, and it’s stupid.

Mostly I blame Beau, because if he had just texted me back or called me or sent a fucking carrier pigeon, then maybe I wouldn’t be walking into Trailhead with both hands in my pockets just to hide how much they shake. Of course, I know I could’ve stayed on his couch and helped myself to some coffee and let him make pancakes and banana butter or french toast with candied pecans or eggs benedict with avocado and crab or whatever other fancy nonsense the man could whip up without breaking a sweat.

But I hadn’t because I’d convinced myself it would be easier to forget about a confession or two if I ran far enough away from the priest.

“Welcome back. Been a while.”

I smile at Darren—it’s a surprisingly easy thing to do—and accept a hug because that’s easy, too. When I step back again, I grab the sleeve of his shirt.

“Not used to seeing you in one of these.”

“These days I’m barely in one,” Darren laughs. “Riley’s probably all kinds of confused.”

We’re standing just inside Trailhead, and I look back and forth between the obnoxious barn doors and where Riley is serving the guy I assume must be Jake. There are a handful of others at the bar, including a bartender I don't think I've seen before, plus another ten or so people shooting pool or messing around on the dance floor. I can't find any sign of Beau though, and only one man who might be able to predict whether he’ll show.

“Am I about to be stood up?”

Darren shrugs. “If I thought for a second that you actually asked him here as a date, I’d tell you I’m shocked that he’s not here already, but since I’m pretty sure it was more like ‘Hey, pal, let’s revisit the scene of the crime,’ I honestly don’t know what he’ll do.”

“You say that so casually, just like that first night I came back,” I choke. “You’re still not upset about—you know—the crime itself?”

“I don’t know how much he’s told you about our marriage, but I wasn’t great to him. Knowing that he’s fucking people while I’m holding his beer is nothing less than what I deserve.”

I want to poke at the bit of information Darren’s offered, or drown my embarrassment in a shot or several, but the doors creak open, and I get goosebumps, my body’s reaction enough to tell me who just walked in without me having to look.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t perp number two,” Darren smirks. “Glad you decided we’d be adequate company tonight.”

Beau rubs a hand over his beard and shakes his head. “I knew you weren’t workin’.”

“Nope, driving to San Diego in the morning.”

“Give your mom a hug for me.”

“You know, someday you’re gonna have to drag your happy ass down there and hug her yourself,” Darren says, his eyebrow high in case Beau wants to argue, though it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t dare.

I watch their exchange closely, still envious of the dynamic between them, and while I’m eager to sit down and talk, I’m also okay that it takes another minute before Darren leads us toward a table and leaves us there to get drinks from Riley. I’ve spent two days trying to get Beau’s attention, and now that I have it, it feels a little clumsy in my hands.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can’t fix anything.

“Do I even want to know why you two are here together?” Beau asks.

“Didn’t realize I’m only allowed to have one friend at a time.”

“Didn’t realize that’s what I said.”

“You already knew I had his number,” I point out. “Strawberries. New Year’s Eve.”

Beau glares. “You could’ve called the bar for that.”

“I could’ve.”

“Stop trying to piss all over him, Beau,” Darren says, sliding a bottle and two glasses onto the table before he sits down to join us. “There are better ways to mark your territory if you’re that concerned.”

I take a too-long sip of my drink and nod my thanks while ignoring the idea that Beau has any interest in laying claim to me. It’s not why we’re here and I’m tired of waiting for why we are.

“Okay, I know I’m not supposed to know anything about it, but as long as I do know something, I want to help get V and the bar back on track.”

Darren shoots Beau a look, then turns back to me. “What is it you think you can do?”

“I used to work at a PR firm in New York, and our company worked closely with marketing agencies. Plus, since I’ve been working on my own, I’ve had to do plenty of self-promotion to get my business going—back east, and now here.”

“So, you want to do promotion for Trailhead?”

“I do, yeah,” I say. “And I obviously don’t know the history of this place, but I’ve seen it crowded plenty of nights, and I’m guessing business has always been good enough around here that V hasn’t had to worry about marketing much. But ‘good enough’ may have a smaller margin of error than she knows, and if she needs to play catch up—”

“She needs to do more than she has before,” Darren finishes.

“Exactly.”

“You said something about helping her raise money when we were at The Grove,” Beau notes. “You’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while now. It wasn’t—you didn’t come up with this after your birthday dinner.”

It’s the most Beau has said since his arrival, and the first he’s spoken since Darren brought him his cheap beer, but more about his behavior makes sense to me now. He’d thought tonight was about any of the other stuff we’d talked about—the same things I had run from—and maybe it makes me a hypocrite, but I can’t quite soothe the way it stings, my honesty pushing Beau away.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but there were plenty of things for me to think about long before you fed me fajitas and tequila,” I say. “Maybe I should work on keeping my mouth shut next time.”

“Harder to take shots that way.”

“The whiskey you gave me will be nicer to sip when I’m alone.”

Beau starts to say something else, but Darren throws an ice cube at him. “Enough, boys. The foreplay’s gonna have to wait til—”

“We’re not—”

“This isn’t—”

“Don’t care,” Darren interrupts. “I’m happy for you or sorry you haven’t gotten your shit together, but either way, I just want to hear Adrian’s ideas. Where does V start with this marketing stuff? Or where do we all start, because I can tell you right now, there are at least two other people in this bar who are gonna want to help, too.”

“Good, because I can kick some of this off, but it’ll be a lot better as a group project,” I tell them, pausing for another quick taste of whiskey before I explain more. “Like I said, I don’t know as much about the bar as you do, but the first thing is the website. I looked at it already, and what she’s got right now is barely functional, but I can fix it without much trouble as long as I can get access to it. I’m sure both V and Noah are hesitant to trust anyone, but I’d be happy to sit down with them and talk anytime.”

“Don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Darren says.

Beau taps the bottom of his bottle against the table. “Doesn’t that shit cost money?”

“Yes, and I’ll cover ‘that shit’ for now,” I growl. “When it’s up for renewal in a year, she should be able to take it over. And once the website is ready, I can also get social media accounts set up. I know how to play around and get eyes on everything, and if there’s a cost there, I’ve got that, too. It’s not a big deal.”

“Thank you.” Darren holds up a hand before Beau can pick a fight, his eyes still locked with mine. “Anything else?”

“Well, I’m hoping this is where you can jump in. I can do general marketing just fine, but if you have ideas for regular events or promotions V might consider, that would help.”

“What, like a weekly trivia night or something like that?” Darren asks.

“Or karaoke?” Beau adds, another ice cube hitting the side of his head before the words are fully out of his mouth.

I smother something too friendly and do my best to move past it. “Yeah, I’m not sure if Trailhead has ever done them before or whether there’s a reason V’s not doing them now, but both would probably go over well and get more people through the door on weekdays. ”

Darren pulls out his phone and starts typing, and I’m not sure whether he’s taking notes or texting V and Noah, but it doesn’t matter much when I see Riley and probably-Jake walking toward us. It’s never been easy to look away from Riley—their vibe is as captivating as their appearance, each piercing demanding a second or two before something more intimate takes over—but I study the man beside them now. He’s probably a touch shorter than I am, but he’s got proud shoulders that have likely carried the weight of the world a time or two, and they’re covered now by a black leather jacket I covet for no reason. A dark purple shirt is the only bit of color I can see, black jeans and boots completing his outfit, but everything looks fantastic with his graying hair and short beard, Jake somewhere in his mid-50s if I had to guess.

He's hot, but somehow everyone in this damn bar seems to be, and I can’t do anything but smile from across the table when an introduction is made.

“Told Jake you guys were having a secret meeting, so he wanted to know what kind of trouble to expect tonight.”

Riley takes half a step back after their brief explanation, but they don’t go back to the bar, so maybe they’re curious, too. And before I can decide whether I’m supposed to be the one to fill them in, Darren takes care of it for me.

“It’s a Trailhead trivia night and karaoke kind of trouble. You in?”

Jake tosses a look at me that’s impossible to read, then he groans and throws an elbow into Beau’s side. “As long as this guy isn’t singing. ”

Faster than should be possible, Beau has an arm around Jake and pulls him down, an obnoxious kiss pressed to the top of Jake’s head before Beau lets him go again. Riley rolls their eyes far too fondly, then focuses on me.

“You’re thinking of ways to get more business for the bar.”

“Yeah, V could probably keep costs low by getting a couple of college kids to help host,” I say. “There’s also no shortage of men with big mouths around here, in case she’d rather go that route.”

Darren flashes a pretty grin before going on. “Prizes for trivia night can be discounts on bar tabs, which is fine because we’d be covering that with all the extra paying customers.”

“Plus, when people get free drinks, they usually end up buying more anyway,” Beau adds.

I nod, secretly pleased that half a bottle of beer and a couple of familiar faces have dulled Beau’s sharpest edges—they’re more my thing, and never suited him to begin with—and then I continue.

“And that leads me to my next idea. I think we can go somewhere like WeHo—talk to people there and hand out some promo material, maybe offer free drinks to get them through those big barn doors. Like Beau just said, most people aren’t gonna come in for one free drink and walk back out.”

“The focus should be on building relationships with businesses there,” Jake says. “Better to network with the people who are there all day and night, more than the ones who are in and out in five minutes.”

Darren snorts. “Leave the five-minute, in-and-out relationships to me.”

Riley presses their lips together, Beau blows Darren a kiss, and Jake ignores all of them to stare at me. “If you really want to help Trailhead, give these West Hollywood businesses a reason to help you. Tie the drink specials here to money customers spend there . Give the employees themselves a separate deal.”

“You have experience with marketing, too?” I ask him.

“I have experience with people .”

“Okay, all of this makes sense,” Darren says, shoving Jake with affection I envy. “But how do we create the advertising? Unlike the offer for a free drink, the actual flyers or cards or whatever will be an upfront cost, and we’re not gonna let you cover everything.”

“That’s fine, but I’d like to do a photoshoot here. For free,” I add. “And once I’ve got the pictures, there are a few options for how to create the marketing material, and I may be able to get a discount through some old connections. Don’t care who pays for that, but once we have everything, I’m good with Jake’s plan for hitting WeHo.”

Darren’s typing again, and Riley speaks up. “Do you guys think the bar might have to close?”

“Probably depends on whether there’s anything else V and Noah have kept to themselves,” Jake says. “From what I’ve been looped in on, it sounds like she’s past the worst of it, and now this place is in recovery mode.”

“But recovery can be touch and go for a while,” I sigh. “So, I’m happy to be the one to go over all of this with V, unless you think it should come from one of you. Either way, I think we can get her the kind of regular business that will make up for the money she’s lost.”

Everyone nods and murmurs some kind of agreement and a couple of related suggestions, and then Darren drops his phone back onto the table and takes a quick sip before he gives me a thumbs up.

“She and Noah are up for a meeting with you. I can be here too, as long as it’s not tomorrow.”

“If it is tomorrow, I can be here,” Beau offers.

“And lord knows one of us is usually around,” Jake grumbles, his tone fully negated by the sincere grin he aims at Riley.

And with that settled, Jake pulls up a stool to join Darren, Beau, and me, and Riley slips away long enough to get us all another round before returning to take care of everyone else from behind the bar. Jake tells us about his daughter, Lucy, and her new job at some fancy resort near Palm Springs and Darren winks as he makes a crack about scoring a deal on a room down there if he’s extra nice to Jake.

Beau’s head falls back as he laughs, long and loud. “You’re extra nice to Jake and every other dude who’ll tip you well for your efforts. No chance that’ll score you a fancy schmancy hotel room.”

“Maybe if I’m extra, extra nice—” Darren tries.

“You’ve threatened that for years, and I’m still waiting for the night you’ll follow through,” Jake says.

The barn doors open behind me, and Beau tracks the two newcomers as they pause inside, look around, and talk quietly before making their way to where Riley waits to get them a drink. As soon as two cocktails have been handed over, Beau turns to Darren.

“Twenty bucks. First date. Taller one’s idea to meet here. Shorter one is closer to quiet, but not actually uncomfortable.”

Darren frowns a little. “Nah, they might’ve driven separately, and I’m not gonna fight you on the first date, but they were somewhere else together first. Dinner, probably. And it’s the shorter one who made the suggestion to come here for a drink.”

“Disagreeing with both of you,” Jake chimes in. “Not a first date. Not their first time at a gay bar—just at this one. Decision was made together because they wanted to try someplace new.”

“What are you guys even talking about?” I ask.

All three of them chuckle and Beau’s warm brown eyes catch mine, but something flickers there as his smile fades a little. “We’re the assholes who like to make bets about new couples who walk into the bar. Generally something about whether they’re an established couple and which one dragged the other into this place.”

“So, did you bet on Levi and me?”

“Yes and no. I wanted to, but Darren wouldn’t take it. You were too easy.”

“Because you guessed that we were together, and that I didn’t really want to be here.”

Beau shrugs. “Something like that, yeah.”

I chew on my lip and won’t push Beau to say more. Not when we’re in front of Darren and Jake, and not when I want Beau to know everything while also being terrified of him knowing anything. Everyone else sees the same story of the grieving boyfriend missing the brightest light in his life, but Beau’s always seemed like the truth might be within his reach, and I haven’t decided what to do if he pulls it closer.

If Beau figures out that only one of his assumptions was true back then.

And Darren might’ve turned down the bet last summer, but he’s not paying enough attention to see how it’s affecting me now, returning to the topic of karaoke instead. There’s more teasing about Beau’s terrible voice and the songs Darren wants to take on and whether Jake might be goaded into a duet at some point. Their enthusiasm settles some of my nerves about coming here in the first place, and I feel even better when they move on to trivia night and Jake prepares to kick everyone’s ass. He’s threatening in the softest possible way, but I find myself believing that I should always be on Jake’s team and never, ever against him.

After another few minutes, Darren asks me a lot about my photography and nothing about Levi, maybe because Beau’s the only one brave enough to toy with something ugly. It gives me the beginning of an idea, and once we’ve all finished our drinks and waved off a third, I hang back just enough that Beau can read me perfectly. Goodbyes bounce back and forth between everyone else, but when Darren and Jake have driven away, Beau moves through the barn doors and stops just outside, waiting for me there without the expectation of a fight or a fuck.

“Is this where you yell at me for ignoring you for two days?” Beau starts, and okay, maybe he was expecting a fight.

“No. Wasn’t really planning to have that conversation at all.”

“Ah, denial. I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Are you?” I ask.

“When it suits me.”

I’m pretty sure we could talk in circles about that for a while, but if I don’t get this over with, it’ll just become one more thing I keep inside me for years.

“I think I want to re-do some stuff at my place. Paint the walls. Maybe frame some pictures. Move furniture. I don’t know.”

“You do know, though,” Beau says. “Am I here to give you permission? Absolution?”

“Do you think that little of me?”

“ Little didn’t come to mind at all.”

If Beau’s going for some kind of innuendo, it doesn’t quite get there, his tone tender enough to carry me back to his couch, goosebumps covering my arms when I remember what his fingers had felt like in my hair.

“Don’t need permission or absolution from you, Beau. Just want to know if you’d like to come over and help.”

“Of course I would.”

It doesn’t happen right away. Neither of us has a job with a traditional schedule, but we’re both busy with work, and while we could certainly schedule a day off together, the intentionality of that feels more serious than what either of us wants. In the meantime, I meet with V and Noah—Darren, Beau, Jake, and Riley hovering outside like nervous parents—and all our various plans are a go. We coordinate efforts to get a weekly trivia night and karaoke night on the schedule within the next month, I’m given access to the website, and we schedule a photoshoot a few weeks out, ensuring our entire group will be there and leaving plenty of time for word to spread to everyone else. I already know I can work pretty quickly on whatever marketing they want, and once we have something solid to approach other businesses with, our little group will hit up places in West Hollywood and see if we can make a deal or several.

Being part of a little group hits me harder than I expected.

But I also want to spend more time with Beau, and I’m trying not to let that hit me at all .

Weeks ago, Beau had suggested we try to be friends—or maybe it had been my idea—all because the night we met was the night so many things went wrong. Beau issued a challenge I should have refused. I put on a wedding band I never thought I’d wear. Both of us felt like we lost something that night, and I’m not sure either of us could tell the other what it was. Or not without lying, but maybe we’re good enough at that to pull it off.

What happened between us became another thing to grieve, and it’s been so easy to pretend we’ve been angry about something else ever since. We’d introduced each other to the worst versions of ourselves just before I felt Beau come apart in my arms, and then at least one of us became convinced that the best versions of ourselves can’t be more than friends.

I’m beginning to want it, though. Or maybe I’ve wanted it the whole time.

We’ve only texted since seeing each other at Trailhead, so the night Beau sends me a message about finally coming over to help, I call him in response.

“Miss my voice that much?” Beau asks, his laughter low enough to make me ache.

I fall onto my couch, the one still doubling as my bed because I haven’t found a reason to make myself comfortable anywhere else, and I adjust my boxers where they feel a little too tight. It’s late, and I’m restless, but I don’t think I’m ready to admit just how well he knows me.

“Maybe I’m just lazy. Don’t want to text all night.”

“Need a hand free for something else?”

Jesus . “Or I thought you might.”

“Don’t worry about where my hand is unless you actually want me to tell you,” Beau warns. “And I was only bothering you so we could figure out a day for me to help you paint.”

“Soon. Please.”

“That’s the nicest you’ve ever been to me.”

“I’m sure the bitch will be back soon,” I say.

“I have no doubt. How’s Monday look for you?”

I pull my phone away from my ear and swipe at my calendar. “ Nope, got a photoshoot right in the middle of the day. Probably hitting the studio after.”

“When do I get to see your studio?”

“Why do you want to?”

“Mmmm, just wanna know where you’re at when you’re not home,” Beau says. “You won’t show me?”

“Didn’t say that. You won’t encourage me to do anything with my free hand while I’m still wearing a ring?”

“Didn’t say that.”

I shake my head even when Beau can’t see it. There’s plenty Beau can’t see, actually.

“How about Tuesday?”

Beau is only quiet for a moment. “Yep, that’ll work. I’ll bring breakfast if you’ll make coffee.”

“Maybe this could’ve been wrapped up with a few texts.”

“Maybe.”

I’m quiet for longer, but when he doesn’t give up on me, I get brave. “Do you ever think about that night? At Trailhead.”

“You know I do,” Beau huffs. “But I thought that was part of a conversation we’re not having.”

“I’m not talking about all of that—all the anger and regret and whatever you think you fucked up. I’m talking about fucking. Do you think about me fucking you?”

The words are harsh, but I’m being too gentle for the question to hurt either of us, and when I seek relief, it has nothing to do with a pain I haven’t inflicted. I try to be lazy as I stroke myself over my boxers, but I know I’m holding my breath while I wait for Beau to answer.

And it takes a while, only a few muted sounds reassuring me I’m not alone.

“All the time.”

“Why did you—you could’ve fucked me. Did you not know that? Did you think I would stop you?”

“What else are we gonna do besides paint? Are we rearranging the furniture?”

It’s that thing he and I do. Ignore one thing. Flip to something else. I love it. I hate it.

“I want to change everything,” I whisper. “Whatever we can do to make that happen.”

Beau hums. “That night, I needed it to be you. I wouldn’t have had any self-control, and you were already broken enough.”

“And you thought I had any control?”

“Not at all.”

We both let that hang between us longer than it should, and when Beau’s breath seems to stutter, it triggers a confession from me.

“I never used to top. Not until him. And now you, I guess. But before, I—”

I close my eyes and become a little less lazy, whatever else I might’ve said lost to another of Beau’s audible breaths.

“Did you like it?”

“Fuck, I—” I’ve barely done anything, but I’m so hard and I can feel the wet spot growing against the soft cotton of my boxers. And I don’t know how to respond when Beau’s question is such an easy one to answer, except that turnabout is fair play. “I bought some frames. And I’ll bring pictures home from the studio.”

“Do you want to talk about pictures instead?” Beau asks. “Or I can let you go. You can spend the rest of your night however you want, and I don’t need to know.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to talk about pictures? Do you want to let me go? Would you rather not know what I’ll be doing after you say goodbye?”

“I want to know if you liked fucking me,” Beau murmurs.

“You know I did.”

“Tell me.”

“I liked fucking you. And I’m sorry it hurt your hands.”

Beau chuckles, but there’s not much behind it. “Were you that focused on my hands at the time?”

“Yeah, actually. I was upset that they weren’t on me.”

There’s a soft groan from Beau. “Yours were all over me.”

“I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t—” I trail off again, and I’m not quite sure what it is about Beau that makes me unable to speak, except that I’m finally tugging at my boxers, and then my hand is wrapped around my cock and there’s a thin string of precum against my stomach that I swipe at with my thumb. I don’t remember the last time I did anything like this, but it feels so fucking good and I’m listening far too closely for any hint of how good it feels for Beau, too. “Are we still friends? ”

“Of course we are,” Beau says, another unsteady breath making me shiver.

“Then what are we doing?”

“Reminiscing about when we weren’t.”

“I wanted to kiss you that night,” I confess. “While I was fucking you, I wanted to kiss you, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Felt like it might ruin things.”

“Didn’t we ruin everything anyway?”

I groan, and whether it’s born of regret over that night or the arousal I’m currently stoking, I’m not sure. “So you’ve said.”

“What else did you want?”

“To fuck you bare.”

It’s Beau’s turn to get louder, his moan rattling through my phone. “You know we couldn’t, though. I haven’t—only Darren. I’ve been so careful, but I—fuck, I want that.”

“Want? Present tense?”

“Christ, Ade. Yes. Then, now, whenever.”

“Do you only bottom?”

“No. I’ll fuck you bare, too.”

My back arches like I’m chasing more of a promise neither one of us will keep. Each stroke is slicker now, and I know if I had any plausible deniability a couple of minutes ago, it’s long gone now, a whimper escaping before I can bite it back. I want to come already, but I also want to take this conversation as far as it will go, because I’m not sure Beau will let us do this all over again.

“God, you were so tight. It all happened so fast, but I still remember what it felt like to be inside you,” I say. “You should know what it feels like to be inside me.”

“You opened me up so slowly—”

“Sorry, I—”

“Shhh, no, fuck —it was perfect. I didn’t need more,” Beau pants. “But what about you? Do you need me to work you open like that? Do you want me to?”

I let go of my cock to tease myself with a slick fingertip instead, back and forth a few times while I imagine what Beau’s larger fingers could do to me. It’s too much if I still don’t want this to end, but I don’t stop right away, scraping my teeth against my lip until I find a way to speak again.

“I want you to take your time with me. I want you to open me so slowly that I have to ask for more. Your tongue. Your fingers. However you want to make me hate you—I think maybe I’d be able to do it this time. I think maybe I could hate you for real.”

“I think I’d let you. I let you hate me that night, and if I got the chance to fuck you, I think I’d let you hate me again.”

It doesn’t make any sense when I think I’ve given Beau a dozen chances already, and I could’ve tried and failed to hate him over and over again. But none of what we’re saying mattered yesterday, and we’ll return to safer conversations tomorrow, so it’ll be okay if we just keep pretending tonight.