Chapter 4 Wolfe
FOUR
WOLFE
We leave the bar and head to the club. It’s a quick ride there, and when we get out, there is a line halfway down the block.
“Is it always like this?” I scan the guys all in far less clothes than Archangel yells at me for going out in. “And I cannot believe you complained about me needing a coat!” I drop my voice. “Half these guys are basically naked.”
“They are gay.”
“I play hockey.” I look at the front of the building. “Is this really called Club Cumming?”
“What did you expect from gay men?” He turns to walk toward the back of the line.
“A slightly better pun!” I wink at the bouncer, hoping they won’t deny me because of this.
“You two. You don’t need to wait in line.” The bouncer calls before I can follow Archangel. He stops and slowly turns around, pointing to his chest. “Yes.”
“That’s weird,” Archangel mutters but walks up to the guys who check our IDs.
“Is it?” I rarely went with him to gay clubs, so I don’t really know.
We’re handed back our IDs, and Archangel rolls his eyes, then slips an arm through mine, dragging me away from the bouncers.
“I get it now,” he sounds annoyed.
“What?” I ask, still not sure what just happened.
“The bouncer thinks you’re hot.”
I grin. “Are you being possessive?”
He slaps my shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”
“I won’t.” I like it. I’m not really sure why. But I have always loved how possessive he is over our friendship.
Archangel drags me to the bar and orders a few shots. I lift a brow, but he doesn’t comment. He must be ready to have a good time, so I do the green tea shots and wait for him to finish his.
Finally, he looks up at me. “Are you going to dance?”
“I’m not going to stand at the bar all night.”
He glances at the dance floor, then back at me. “Have you seen it out there?”
“I’m sure they are all wearing less clothes than I am, so way more comfortable getting sweaty.”
Angel blinks at me, then starts laughing. “You just have no idea.”
“What are you even talking about? Are we dancing or not?” The buzz is starting to hit, and I’m feeling the music.
“All the men out there. You know you will be surrounded by sweaty men.”
Now I’m confused. “How is that different than hockey?”
“They’ll be pressed up against you.”
“Again, I ask, how is that different than hockey?”
“They have less clothes on!” he shouts over the music, clearly annoyed about something.
“And I wish I did!”
He narrows his eyes, then offers his hand. “Come on.”
“Finally.”
He’s not wrong. There are muscled, sweaty men all over us the second we’re on the dance floor.
It’s not so much dancing with a single person as the entire floor moving to the beat together, a lot like a concert.
Angel keeps glancing over at me like he’s looking for something, but I can’t figure out what, and I’m too buzzed to figure it out.
He’s dancing in front of me until he’s suddenly not. I search the faces surrounding me. He can’t have gone far.
Finally, I spot him dancing with some guy, and the two of them are hot and heavy. Archangel turns in his arms, and they grind against one another.
A growl fills my chest. We came here together, and now he’s all up on some guy. I bust through the few people who’ve gotten between us and slip in behind Archangel. He leans into me, then glances back and startles.
“Who did you expect?” I ask into his ear.
He laughs, leaning his head back on my shoulder. “Not you.”
The guy in front of him gets closer when I do.
I growl again.
What’s this dude’s problem? Surely he can see he’s not needed. I put a possessive arm around Angel. Wishing it weren’t so loud in here so I could tell him, “I’m his best friend. I come first.” But he won’t hear me, and Angel will probably get annoyed.
I pull him closer to me, and as if this mother fucker is glued to him, he slides in, then has the balls to grab my hip.
“Don’t worry, we can share him,” he says over Archangel’s shoulder.
Archangel squirms, obviously uncomfortable.
That snaps something in me. I don’t want to share, and I don’t like that he’s making Archangel react like that. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“Why?” Archangel opens his eyes.
“I need a drink.” I half drag him off the dance floor.
He comes reluctantly at first, but then of his own accord. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say because I don’t know how I’m feeling if I’m honest.
He orders, then studies me for a long moment before leaning in to speak over the music. “Do you have a problem with me dancing with other people?”
I don’t like the question, and it feels like a bunch of bees are swarming inside my head. I take the shot set in front of me, then look Angel in the eyes. “We were both dancing with other people.”
His lips press into a flat line. “Yes and no.”
“Yes,” I say, suddenly feeling combative. “I just don’t know why you left me.”
“I didn’t leave you. We were in the vicinity of each other.” His answer is fair, but I don’t like it. For a reason I can’t really pinpoint, it rubs me wrong.
I get us a couple more shots. We don’t say anything. It’s too loud to have a conversation anyway.
A guy approaches and puts his hand on my arm. “Hey you want to dance?”
“He’s not even gay,” Archangel snaps.
“He doesn’t have to be gay to dance and enjoy his night.
” The guy’s tone is pretty bitchy, and I’m a little scared for his life.
A lot of people assume by looking at Archangel that he’s a twink, and even though he’s a lot slimmer than I am, he’s a beast on the ice and in the gym. He could snap this guy in half.
“Leave.” Archangel hisses.
My chest heats, and I don’t fight the smile.
“Is that what you want?” the guy asks me.
“You better listen to him.” I step closer to Archangel and slip my arm around his middle.
He leans into me and gets a smug grin. “Bye.”
The guy huffs and leaves.
I press my nose to his temple and whisper. “If I’m not allowed to dance with someone else, neither are you.”
He pulls back enough to look up at me. “I told you I was getting laid tonight.”
My ribcage constricts. “I’ll leave when you decide you want to do that.”
“Fine.” He seems annoyed, but I don’t press it because I just don’t want to know. He takes his phone out of his pocket and scowls at it.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He grabs my arm and drags me back to the dance floor.
We dance, but it’s not the same. Archangel is tense and doesn’t look like he’s having a good time.
I lean in. “Do you want me to go so you can have fun?”
His gaze snaps up to meet mine. “No.”
We dance for another minute, and then he breaks away and shoves through the crowd, leaving me in the middle of the floor alone.
Guys immediately swarm around me without Archangel to fend them off.
I try to nicely escape, but there are literally people everywhere, and after being this big as long as I have, I’ve learned to be careful, so I don’t run people over and injure them.
But that’s not working. I look around to see where Archangel went, but there are too many guys and not enough light. Plus, the strobing is really starting to give me a headache.
I get frustrated and start picking people up to move them when they won’t move. I get fondled a little, and a few guys make passes at me, but in the end, it’s effective, and I make it to the bar. Archangel is nowhere to be found.
Where the hell could he have gone?
He better not have gone home.
I pull up my phone tracker and check his location. He’s still in the building, and I zoom in. It looks like the bathroom. I order another shot and wait, but he doesn’t return. One shot turns into three, and I’m pretty far into lit.
It’s been like twenty minutes, so I check his location again. He’s still in the bathroom.
“Fuck it.” I push off the bar and sway toward the bathroom. I shove into the Pepto-Bismol pink and a little abrasive bathroom. I squint, blinded by the light reflecting off the high-gloss walls.
“Has no one here ever heard of semi-gloss?!” I shield my eyes as they adjust, looking for Archangel.
“If you’re hooking up in a stall and let me just stay out there waiting for you, I’m gonna…
” My words trail off as the idea that’s what he’s doing really sets in.
I turn to leave and nearly walk into him.
Archangel’s eyes are red-rimmed, and his face is splotchy. He’s been crying.
My attitude completely shifts. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m ready to go home.”
“Why are you crying?” I wrap my arms around him.
He doesn’t fight me, but presses into my chest.
“Angel.” I tilt his face up, but he shakes his head. “Did I do something?”
“No.” He manages, barely.
“I thought we were having a good time.”
“It’s too much.”
“What is?”
“This is impossible,” he whispers, refusing to look at me any longer.
“What is impossible? What happened? We just talked about going to the wedding together. I thought we were good? I’m so damn confused.”
“My sister is demanding I bring my date to her shower so she can meet him before the wedding if I want a plus one.”
“Okay,” I say, not understanding the issue.
“It’s in two weeks, so you’d have to fake being my boyfriend the whole season. She’ll know.”
Oh.