Tyler
TYLER
Pulse was the only nightclub could stand going to. It also happened to be the only club he knew of in Port Dale that served almost strictly gay clientele. Bi men like himself were, of course, welcome, but they were expected to veer toward same-sex pairings.
It had been nearly a week since his return to Port Dale, and he was still feeling off-balance as he stepped into the club. A stamp on his hand marked him as a minor. The main part of the club spread out before him, a dance floor in the center, private booths on the raised platform to the left, a bar and small tables to the right.
Everything was lit with the garish neon and flashing lights he expected from clubs. It was also well decorated, not the sleek lines of the smooth tables or the glowing art on the wall, but the people. Men of all shapes and sizes awaited him as he looked around.
He earned a handful of glances and a few that lingered. found himself smoothing the front of his shirt as he stepped down to the main floor, unsure what to do. He wasn’t exactly a virgin when it came to other men, but how to deal with their blatant interest? Hell no.
He chose to ignore them, walking to the bar and ordering a drink. The ink on his hand meant he ordered whatever fountain drink was available. It was an excuse to have something in his hand to busy himself with.
“Want me to get that for you?” a man asked, leaning heavily on the bar and invading ’s space.
“I think I can manage a couple of bucks for a drink,” told him.
The man snorted, pulling away to resume talking to the slim towhead he’d been conversing with a moment before. Then realized the man’s offer hadn’t been altruism but something more earthy.
considered his options, realized he wasn’t one to randomly let some guy lure him with a free soft drink, and shoved his shame aside at his slowness. He sipped from the straw, pushing cash across the bar for the bartender. Once he was old enough to drink legally, he supposed it would be his card.
A card funded by Clay of all people. A card he knew so little about where the funds came from, but Clay insisted it could be used for emergencies and fun alike without fear or repercussions. The only stipulation was that didn’t try too much overindulging, to the point that Clay would have to step in. had no idea where that line was, but he wasn’t willing to risk toeing it until he was at least old enough to drink.
“Hey,” a voice said to his right as he slipped away from the bar.
turned as a hand closed around his wrist before he could get too far. Fear and adrenaline spiked as the stranger pulled him closer, but he remembered. A memory clear in his head.
* * *
In the great scheme of things, it would have made sense if the training had come from Elliot. A man who had spent years with the Marines and then the rest of his adult life using that training to protect others as personal security. Elliot should have been the one to teach how to defend himself.
But no, it had been Clay.
It hadn’t been long after had found the two of them, reuniting and ultimately making them a part of his life. Without explanation, Clay had pulled him into one of the basement rooms of his and Elliot’s new home. It had been lined with pads on the floor and the walls.
“There are things you need to know. Hopefully, you’ll never have to use them, but don’t live on what you should or shouldn’t have to do because that’s how good men and women die too easily,” Clay had said as an explanation.
Just shy of sixteen, had watched him carefully. “Okay?”
Clay raised his arms, balling his hands into fists. “These are what people will tell you win fights. Hollywood will tell you they’re won with hands and feet, but both are a lie. Punches and kicks at an opponent with an ounce of sense or instinct will leave you wide open.”
watched him, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
Clay presented his elbows. “These are your best weapons. Hard, direct, and difficult to break from a blow.”
“Elbows, not fists,” dutifully recited.
“Feet are for short-range, easy to recover from attacks. Think, attacking the knees or stomping on toes. But never more than that,” Clay continued.
“Right, quick, easy,” repeated, watching Clay carefully.
Clay reached out, taking hold of ’s face. “I don’t know if you’ll always be this small, this scrawny. But never, and I mean never, think that means you can’t fight someone bigger than you. Smaller is not weaker, it just means at an immediate disadvantage. One day, you might be bigger, stronger, meaner, but everything I’m telling you will work whether that happens or not.”
’s eyes widened. “Okay.”
Clay nodded slowly, solemnly. “But first, I’m going to teach you how to break holds. Because that’s the quickest way anyone, bigger or not, can get the drop on you. That’s how they prove their strength and make you feel weak. You break that, and they lose that power.”
“Why are you telling me this?” asked faintly.
“Because you need to know. Because someone needs to teach you. Because one day, you might need it. Because this world is cruel and uncaring, and you’ll need all you can to defend against it. And because I care about you, and I won’t let you wander into the world unarmed,” Clay said, backing away slowly.
understood sharply and in a brilliant flash. “And you’re not going to hold back, are you?”
Clay smiled gently. “No. At first, yes, so you can understand the basics. But after? No, I’ll be brutal, and it will seem cruel and horrible, but I mean it in a way you may never understand. And really, I hope you never understand why, not truly.”
took a deep breath. “Then let’s start from the beginning.”
And so, he learned.
* * *
Old memories flooded his senses, and he pushed briefly toward the grip, twisting his wrist. When the stranger’s grip relaxed, more out of surprise than anything, yanked his arm free. Without spilling his drink, he stepped away from the man, sat at a nearby table and glowered at him.
“What the hell, man?” the man barked.
shook the offended wrist, glaring at him. “Don’t grab people, it’s rude.”
“Talk about an overreaction,” the guy grumbled, shaking his fingers.
Beside him, the man’s friend snorted, rolling his eyes. “I told you to stop grabbing people, Ford.”
“Didn’t need to try to break my fingers,” Ford grumbled.
His friend shook his head. “Forgive my friend, he was raised in a barn apparently and doesn’t know any better.”
“Try a tap on the shoulders,” offered a little sheepishly.
“You say I was raised in a barn, where’s a guy like that get raised then?” Ford asked his friend, apparently refusing to look at .
The friend shrugged. “The city. You’re lucky it wasn’t one of the guys from the base. They come down this way occasionally, and if someone gets them in the wrong mood, people get hospitalized.”
chuckled, thinking of Clay and Elliot. Neither of them had ever attacked anyone, at least as far as he knew. But he remembered how sharp their movements could be when they were startled. Elliot always jerked his hand down toward his waist, where a sidearm would have been kept. Clay was interesting. His hand twisted as though he were reaching either for his side or behind him. had never figured that out, and as usual, Clay and Elliot weren’t telling.
“I’ve got some overprotective...big brothers,” explained. “I didn’t grow up on the best side of town, and they wanted to make sure I knew how to defend myself.”
“Smart on their part and yours,” the unnamed man said with an approving nod.
“How much training is needed to react like that over a little touch?” Ford grumbled.
“And that’s our cue to find somewhere else to be, as he’s not done pouting over his little fingers,” the other man said, dragging Ford off.
felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to injure the guy, but he wasn’t used to being manhandled out of nowhere. Or rather, he was too used to it. His childhood neighborhood, the only place his mom could afford, had been rough. Considering how long it took for puberty to do its job, had taken his fair share of beatings.
Sometimes, people just didn’t like the sight of the scrawny kid with a mess of dirty blond hair. Sometimes, people thought he might have something they wanted. And hell, sometimes they did it just for the hell of it and because they could get away with it.
Time helped ease some of the wariness. It helped that when he was in Port Dale, he lived with Clay and Elliot, who were probably the most dangerous things around, but the neighborhood was quiet and safe. And he’d spent most of his time living in a college town, where violence wasn’t common. He’d calmed down a little, though the display just a moment before showed he wasn’t too calm.
It certainly didn’t do anything for his mood. In truth, he hadn’t really wanted to go out in the first place and definitely didn’t want to sit around drinking pop. Clay had insisted he go out to see some of the city.
Or more directly. “I don’t know what’s wrong because you won’t talk to us, but sulking around the house isn’t going to make it better. Brooding is my job, so go out and do something. Shoo.”
Clay was not a man to mince words. Elliot had remained quiet, which meant he agreed with Clay, or enough to keep his peace. Even knew when the fight was lost and didn’t bother offering up a rebuttal. Plus, he could see the way the two of them were acting. It was probably a good idea to leave them alone for a few hours if he didn’t want to end up scarred.
And while he wasn’t a fan of being sized up by any guy who looked his way, it was either that or go somewhere with women. Which, considering his current attitude toward the fairer sex, he didn’t think was such a good idea.
He was big enough to admit his attitude was just bitterness, and he didn’t dislike women. But it was hard not to be a little cranky when the woman he’d thought was special, the woman who should have been his partner, someone he trusted and could even fall in love with, not only cheated but left him for the person they cheated with.
The pain was too big for him to put into words. If she’d just left him, deciding they weren’t going to work, that would have been fine. Things happened, people changed, or they realized something they didn’t know before. He liked to think of himself as someone who could accept a nice, clean, simple breakup.
It was the betrayal that stuck in his throat, digging into his chest and tearing at his heart. Trust was not something he gave easily, he knew that about himself. Yet, he had trusted her and let her into his life to see more of him. He’d thought that would be enough, that he would be enough.
Instead, he wasn’t spending the summer with her in a shared apartment as they deepened their relationship. Nope, he was sitting in the middle of a gay club in his hometown, wishing he had something stronger to drink. Or anything that would remove the thoughts grinding away in his head.
winced when he looked up, catching other people’s stares and how they quickly looked away. It seemed he’d made more of a spectacle of himself than he’d meant to. Averting his gaze, he drained the rest of his drink, eager to leave the bar and go home. He should have known that going out was a bad idea. He’d never been all that good with the party scene as it was, let alone when he was a miserable sack of sadness.
He turned, eager to drop the glass off at the bar and flee. His plan was foiled immediately as he slammed into someone. grunted, the bottom of his glass smacking against the man’s shoulder and tipping. The other man yelped as ice slipped down the back of his shirt, soaking him with the dregs of the pop.
“Fuck,” barked, looking around for a napkin, a towel, anything to clean the guy up with. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not exactly the most graceful way to get someone’s attention,” the man said, his voice making freeze.
He’d know that voice anywhere. Clearly enunciated but somehow lilting and soft, with enough wry humor to leave you wondering if the speaker was serious or teasing you.
’s head snapped around. “Nate?”
Sure enough, when he looked up, it was Nate. The years since they’d last seen one another had added a few inches to Nate’s height, but where once he’d been taller than , the top of his head now came up to ’s chin. He’d filled out in the shoulders, and the tight shirt showed Nate had kept up with a workout regimen enough to stay in shape.
But would know that face anywhere, as surely as he knew the voice.
Nate’s eyes widened. “?”
He snorted. “Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be on the other side of the country.”
Something shadowy passed behind Nate’s hazel eyes, then disappeared. “Ah, yes, I was. But I decided to take a break from my schooling and return to the city.” Nate cocked his head, then winced. “Ah, excuse me. I should probably find something to clean myself up with.”
flinched, turning to get the bartender’s attention. “Right, shit, sorry about that.”
The unexpected benefit of everyone watching him was that the bartender had already witnessed slam into Nate. Smirking, he handed a dry cloth and took the now empty glass. Jogging back, he reached out to help Nate, then realized he’d have to touch the man. Cringing at the thought, he held out the towel.
“Here, sorry,” repeated.
Nate smiled gently, taking the towel. “Thank you. And please, there’s no need to apologize. Accidents happen, especially in a crowd.”
“Uh, yeah,” said sheepishly. “I still should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“Perhaps,” Nate begrudgingly agreed, flashing a quick smile. “But unless time has changed you a great deal, you have always been prone to becoming lost in your thoughts.”
There wasn’t much he could say in his defense, and cringed. If he were honest, he couldn’t help but appreciate what time had done for Nate. Sure, he had the best personal trainers and the best food available, but it was still impressive. He was dressed down, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans that hugged his legs. He’d always seen Nate in at least slacks when they’d been younger, and seeing him in jeans was surreal.
And with that, he realized he was staring and jerked his gaze back up to Nate’s face. He was surprised to see the man staring back at him, his expression hidden behind a mask of neutrality.
“I believe there will be no getting this drink off unless I shower,” Nate said after a moment. “And before you say it, please do not apologize.”
Having been ready to do just that, frowned. “Fine. But I’m still sorry.”
“Ah, I shouldn’t have been out anyway. Better that I go home.”
“Yeah, I was getting ready to do the same thing.”
Nate looked him over. “You look good, . It was good to see you again.”
A sense of alarm rang through him as Nate turned to walk away. Before he could think about what he was doing and going against the advice he’d given the grabby man, he caught Nate by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait. It’s been years, Nate,” said hurriedly. “And I’d really like to play catch up...if you want.”
Nate looked him over curiously, not moving away. “Really? Curious.”
“Is it?” asked.
Nate’s lips twitched. “It is. Truth be told, I would be more than happy to meet and talk.”
The more the other man talked, the more began to see the differences between the teenager he’d once known and the man Nate had become. Nate had always been a little stiff and formal in his speech, but had grown even more so with the years. Before Nate had been yanked out of the city and thrown into some private school, far away from , he’d been shedding the formality of the speech his family insisted he use.
slowly let go of Nate’s wrist to pull his phone out. “Give me your number and I’ll text you?”
Nate took it, turning his eyes away from only long enough to type in his contact information. “There. Message me so I have yours as well. Just contact me when you want to meet. I have...well, a surplus of free time lately so don’t worry about that too much.”
It felt as if there was more Nate wanted to say, but to borrow his comment from before, if Nate hadn’t changed over the years, he wouldn’t talk about it until he wanted to. Of course, that day might never come, but the man was stubborn and could put a bull to shame with how hard-headed he could be.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” said, pocketing his phone.
Nate gave him another curious look before heading toward the entrance. wished he could have told the man how good he looked or that, as shocked as he was, there was something wonderful about seeing him again after so many years. Despite how everything had ended, Nate had been ’s closest friend, the rich kid who, for whatever reason, had developed a bond with one of the poorest kids at their school.
Shaking his head, he waited until he was sure Nate was far enough away from the club before leaving. Only as he hit the warm air of the summer night outside did he realize where he’d just run into Nate.
The sole reason Nate had been pulled from his life, sent to somewhere unknown, with both forbidden to contact one another, was because he and Nate had been discovered together. They hadn’t even been doing anything over the top, just kissing.
hummed, correcting himself, there might have been some hands under shirts too. But they’d been caught by someone who reported to Nate’s father. In a matter of days, Nate had been shipped out with barely a chance to say goodbye, all because he’d been found with another guy.
So why was he in a gay club?