Chapter 2
Chapter two
Wyatt
Nothing screamed pathetic more than asking your way-too-young piercer to grab food with you because you were lonely.
Except by some miracle, he’d said yes.
I climbed out of my truck, the snow falling on my shoulders and my cock aching like a motherfucker.
A deep-rooted pain remained there, the sort that made my teeth numb a little, but I’d managed pain before, and I could now.
The end result would be worth it—at least, I kept telling myself that.
Harp had put her fingers in her ears once I mentioned wanting a genital piercing, and she refused to let me say what kind, just told me to go to Rory because he was the best in the area at those.
And he had been—fast, efficient, and with an effortless charm that put me at ease from the moment I stepped in.
Finding ease with anyone was a rarity, and maybe that was why I’d invited him out to Fun Guy, our mushroom capital’s sports bar.
Plus, I stood no chance of running into my daughter here while I was trying to come down from getting my dick pierced.
She loathed sports bars. By the time I made it to the door of the bar, footsteps thumped behind me.
I turned around to spot Rory striding my way.
He’d popped a beanie on, covering his dark hair, and his leather jacket hid the full sleeves of tattoos that had been on display in the shop.
His eyebrows were pierced, extra around his ears, and I’m sure he probably had others too.
Rory was the sort of guy who oozed charm, and he probably had swarms of ladies flocking around him at any given time from the easy way he smiled and the young, tattooed bad-boy air about him.
“Are you a beer drinker?” I asked as we walked in. “I should’ve checked before whether this worked for you.”
“I’ve come here for trivia nights before—they’ve got a good menu. Most of the time I’m at the clubs in Philly, though. The scene in the suburbs is a bit too quiet for my liking.”
I snagged the door and held it open for him. The party scene hadn’t been anything I’d gotten to do when I was young, and it happened to be another thing on my list. “Think it’d be weird if I hit up the clubs now?”
“Mmm, the ones I go to have plenty of older guys,” he said, a sparkle to his deep-set blue eyes.
He stepped in and led the way over to an empty table, making it clear he’d been here plenty before.
What kind of clubs were filled with guys my age?
Honestly, the idea of going out after a long day of work sounded fucking exhausting, but post-divorce I had a few items I wanted to attempt, and I was determined to try to break out of my rut.
Rory took a seat and slung his jacket on the side, bringing all those tattoos out into the open again. “Like what you see?” he asked, showing off his arms. “Now that you’ve got piercings covered, are you going to tackle some ink next?”
“Mind if I look?” I asked, reaching out for his right arm.
“Please,” he said. “I didn’t get these bad boys to have them wither away unappreciated.”
“The arms or the tats?” I asked, an amused grin lifting my lips. Despite his slenderness, he clearly worked out based on the definition of his biceps and triceps, as well as his corded forearms.
I gripped his arm, and the skin-to-skin touch sent a ripple of electricity through me.
Damn, between Susie and me splitting up to Harper being on her own now, I hadn’t realized how touch starved I was.
Even back in the tattoo shop, I’d been getting harder by the second right before he pierced me.
Except, with how much my dick hurt right now, I wouldn’t be getting an erection anytime soon.
I traced along his upper arm where the colors and lines seemed like a chaotic blend of red, black, and white, but upon closer observation, the piece was neat and clear. A red spiral around a black compass leading to an X marks the spot, all framed with white and black spirals. “What’s this?”
He licked his lower lip, which made it glossy. “Trash polka art—it’s Nyx’s specialty, so I let her go to town.”
“No special meaning?” I asked, reluctantly letting go of my grasp on his arm. At once, I missed the touch.
Rory shrugged. “Most of the art on my body is more about the art and artist than any personal sentiment—apart from my raven tattoo, but that’s on my back.”
“Raven tattoo?” I asked. The server swung by, interrupting the explanation, and I placed an order for two beers and a burger for me. Rory ordered one as well, and the server jetted off again. When the silence settled between us, I fixed my gaze back on him, hoping for an explanation.
He was so fascinating, so different from me. My brothers always had comment after comment about how I never talked enough, how quiet I was, how dull. And their words still lingered, because even now, I hadn’t found anyone who saw all of me in the way I wanted apart from my kid.
“That tattoo was for my last name,” he offered. “Brannon means raven, so the whole family got them—apart from Cor, because he’s a stubborn shit and refuses to get inked or pierced just to spite me.”
I snorted. As one of three brothers, I could understand the sentiment.
However, his family sounded close, unlike mine.
David had moved away almost a decade ago, and even though Jeremy lived nearby, we saw each other at holidays, and that was about it.
Truthfully, it was probably better that way, even if the loneliness seeped into my veins a little deeper with the realization.
“I think it’s pretty amazing your family would do that together,” I admitted, squeezing my nape.
All of this was so out of my depth—even just getting a drink and some food with someone else.
I’d been so focused on work and raising Harper for so many years that apart from grabbing a beer here with some of the guys after a job, I’d let most of my socialization slide.
Going out into the dating pool at this point felt unfathomable, and I’d probably die alone in my apartment, eaten by cats, even though I didn’t have a pet.
“My family does everything together,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “We’re unhealthily codependent.”
“That sounds pretty fantastic to me,” I said.
“Guess it got pretty lonely stuck in a marriage that wasn’t working,” Rory said.
I blinked. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but I was surprised he’d outright said it.
“Shit.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Me and my big mouth. In case you haven’t been able to gauge, I’ve got no filter.”
“I think it’s refreshing.” Truly, it was. I’d spent so long trapped in a smothering blanket of just being okay that his directness hit like the first sip of water upon waking up.
“You say refreshing, the world says problem.” Even though Rory flashed a grin with his statement, this one didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit,” I responded. My heart thumped a little harder at how strongly I felt it too.
I’d just met him, but there was no way this guy was that much of a problem.
As much as I had a tendency to stick with things even when they weren’t working, I had a gut impulse for people that was infallible.
I knew from the start that Susie would be a good partner, and she had been—even if we hadn’t been in love.
Rory blinked at me, and his mouth opened, but before I could discover what he’d prepared to say, the server returned with our beers as well as the burgers. My mouth watered at the sight. I hadn’t been lying—the piercing had made me starving, even with the painful ache that persisted down there.
I took a sip of the beer, enjoying the slide down my throat, accepting anything as distraction from the ache in my crotch. When I placed the beer down, I caught Rory’s gaze zeroed in on me, the intensity snagging my attention. I wiped my hand over my mouth. “Do I have something here?”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “So what else is on your wild-side exploration list?”
“Clubs in Philly,” I answered. “I’ve never actually been to a nightclub. A strip club a few times for bachelor parties, but not a genuine nightclub. So I’d take suggestions on which ones old guys like me hit up.”
“Mm’kay, so, several things,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “You’re not as old as you keep saying you are. But secondly, if I’m reading you right, and correct me if I’m wrong, but while you’d be incredibly popular at my kind of clubs, I don’t think they’re the ones you’d be interested in.”
“What, like a goth club?” I asked, my brows drawing together. “I was a huge Depeche Mode fan back in the day.”
Rory’s bark of a laugh startled me. “Oh, baby, no,” he responded. “I’m at the gay clubs in Philly—though I wouldn’t turn down a good goth-industrial night.”
I blinked and blinked again. Rory’s teases—oh, had they been flirting?
So, when he’d said I was hot, he wasn’t just saying it objectively.
My cheeks heated, even as my heart thumped a little harder.
Fuck, if I let the silence draw on too long, he might think I had an issue with him.
“Well, that gives your compliments a bit more weight,” I said.
“I thought they were the equivalent of a sad back pat.”
Rory’s eyes widened, and another laugh escaped him. “Damn, Wyatt. You’re hands down unexpected in every way.”
“Not your average PA client?” I joked.
“Not average anything,” he said, an impish grin on his lips. Understanding hit me at what he referred to as his gaze drifted south. Blood flowed in that direction at the compliment, but the shift made the throb of pain even stronger.
“Don’t know why you even bother giving the masturbation talk—how could anyone even want to touch their cock while it’s in this much agony?” I grumbled.
“Thought you were a big strong man who didn’t feel pain?” Rory teased. All the smooth charm from earlier clicked into place—he flirted effortlessly, which was a skill I lacked.
“There’s pain and then there’s pain to your dick,” I clarified. “Apparently they’re very different things.”
“Give me your phone,” Rory said, making a gesture.
I licked my lip before handing it over. “Why do I get the feeling that was a bad idea?”
His grin grew wicked, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry—I only leave dick pics with consent.”
I rolled my eyes, even though being flirted with like this felt damn good. And although I hadn’t ever dated a guy before, or even considered dating one, I could admit the attention made me spark to life in a way little had in a long time.
Rory handed back my phone. “You’ve got my number now. If you have any questions about the piercing’s healing or just want to chat, shoot me a text. And with me, you definitely have consent to send dick pics.”
“Even if mine gets all crusty from the heal-up?” I responded. “Because I’m pretty sure no one wants that in their inbox.” Right, I was the smoothest of smooth, talking about crusty dicks.
“Given I’m the one who gave you the piercing, then yes, send it to me, or come back in and I’ll check it in person,” he said, reverting to professional mode for a moment.
However, it fast melted away as his brows arched with mischief again.
“Though I’m happy to get pictures of the end result as well. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, taking a sip of my beer. Was it hotter in here than usual or something?
“Shit, I really was hungry,” Rory said between bites of his burger.
The moan he let out was pornographic, and I buried myself in eating as a distraction.
My mind whirred with new thoughts, ones swirling around like snowflakes but not quite settling yet.
I had a feeling that if I pondered on them for long, they’d have the potential to bring certain things to light.
All too fast, the burger was gone, and I looked up again to see Rory licking juices off his fingertips.
Fuck.
How did a guy make something like that so sensual? Why the fuck was I finding it sensual? I knew splitting with Susie would lead to some upheaval in my life, but I hadn’t thought it’d entail this much. His other arm snagged my attention, a few details clearer.
“Wait, is your other sleeve Gotham city?” I asked, peering at the art. The bat signal was clear on the opposite side, but I hadn’t caught the full glimpse of it earlier. I’d been pretty focused on the needle that went through my dick instead.
“Oh, hell yeah. Huge Batman fan,” he said, clapping a hand against the piece. “I’d let Batman and all of his Robins—even Steph if she wanted to peg—run a train on me.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. Holy fuck, Rory was one of the most unique people I’d ever met. Amusement bubbled inside me.
His eyes widened, as if he realized what he’d said out loud, and then he shrugged. “Welcome to dealing with me outside of work. Totally understand if this is too much and you want to lose my number.”
The simple way he stated that, like he’d dealt with rejection time and again, struck me square in the chest. Maybe it was the way he kept me on my toes when I’d grown so used to monotony, but being around Rory sparked my mind to life in a way I liked.
He was unpredictable and interesting, and he moved from topic to topic with ease.
Considering how stagnant I’d been feeling, how adrift, the fact that he welcomed me in effortlessly had imprinted on me with surprising depth.
“Pretty sure I’m going to keep your number,” I responded. “Who else is going to accept my crusty dick pics?”
Rory’s bright laugh was infectious, and my shoulders quaked as one erupted from me. Susie and I had shared affection, but we were too alike in personality, both of us insufferably practical. And my brothers and I didn’t usually laugh together—it had mostly been them laughing at me.
I took a sip of my beer, savoring the taste.
After Susie and I had split, my nights had become even more monotonous, despite my attempts to start on my list. I wasn’t coming home to take care of a kid or partner—no, it was just me and a succulent that I was pretty sure was dying a slow and belabored death.
And Rory—well, within hours of meeting him, my adrenaline picked up, and my whole body responded to his lightness, as if I was a plant craning toward the sun.
Not sure what I’d bring to the table friendship-wise here, but if he wasn’t tired of me after our dinner, I wanted more of this.
More brightness, more laughs, more easy conversation.
I was definitely keeping his number.