Chapter 19
“Never trust a man to understand his heart. TELL him what to think.”
— MATCHMAKING MAMAS
Hank
I lifted my passion fruit mojito for a sip, and the little decorative umbrella poked me in the cheek. I plucked it out of my glass and hurled it onto the bar. “Stupid fucking thing!”
Fox glowered. “What crawled up your ass and died?”
He was decked out head to foot in black, his tank top ripped strategically to show flashes of skin and tattoo and nipple.
It would be disturbing, but I was used to Fox’s club wear.
He was on the prowl. His jeans were so tight that I was pretty sure if I let my gaze venture south, I’d be able to see his dick print.
I resolutely kept my eyes up high. In Glitter Balls, it was dangerous to let your gaze drift unless you were ready to give out an invitation.
Which I wasn’t. Because I was a straight guy, out with his cousin. That was all.
“I hate this place,” I grumbled.
“Hey, I wanted to go to Omaha. It was your idea to come here,” Fox pointed out. “And fuck knows why, because you hate playing my wingman in gay bars. So what gives?”
I shrugged. “Just sick of being at the house. I’ve got too much time to think.”
“Think about what?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. I just… Jamie is out tonight, so I figured, why not me too? If he’s going to move on and date, I should, you know, find some kind of social life, right?”
Fox’s eyes narrowed. “And you chose to find a social life at a gay bar where you can’t meet anyone?”
“Well…” I sipped tart mojito. “Maybe I didn’t think that part through. Or maybe…”
Fox’s lips curled up. “Oh, I see. We’re curious, are we?”
“No!” I said quickly, my gaze sweeping the interior of the bar. Neon light swept over exposed chests shiny with sweat. Muscular gym rats and sparkly twinks danced, embraced, kissed, fondled. I swallowed hard. “This isn’t really my scene.”
“No, it’s really not. So what gives?”
I tipped up my glass, finishing the mojito. “I thought I was gonna play wingman. Go find a guy. I’ll hang out here.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Fox swiveled on his seat and knocked the bar top. “We need a refill over here!”
The bartender gave us a distracted nod, then did a double-take, his eyes skimming over Fox, lingering on the ink peeking out of his shirt. “Be right there.”
Fox grinned and fluttered his lashes at me. “All right, you need to drink up and spill your guts so I can get laid. You’ve got…” He picked up his phone and checked the time. “Five hours.”
“Five? Why five?”
The bartender, a guy with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a thick layer of scruff, set a mojito in front of me, sans umbrella because he was obviously a quick study, and a shot of tequila for Fox.
“Because I’m going to be busy just as soon as this man gets off the clock.”
Fox tilted his face up, and the bartender swooped in to kiss him. Their tongues pushed into one another’s mouths lewdly, and I turned away, unsettled.
Not because it was two guys kissing. I was cool with everyone embracing their sexuality. But because Jamie had flitted through my mind, looking up at me through his lashes as he’d done on that first date that went wrong, and I’d wondered, what if I’d kissed him?
It wasn’t a question I’d ever asked myself about a guy before.
Fox pushed my glass in front of me. “Come on, you sad sack. Drink up and tell me what’s got you all twisted.”
I picked up my glass and gulped the too-sweet liquid.
“You want to experiment with a guy?” Fox asked. “There’s plenty of hot twinks that would love to give you a taste.”
I choked on my swallow, coughing harshly as Fox smacked my back.
“No,” I croaked.
“Well, something is going on.”
“Not any of these guys,” I rasped.
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Fox stared at me while I fidgeted. “What guy would you want to experiment with?”
“I don’t want to experiment,” I said harshly. “That wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Fox leaned back, eyes widening. “Oh shit, you’ve got it bad for someone. This is about more than sex, huh?”
“It’s not about sex at all.” I grimaced. “I mean, I don’t know if it is? I’ve never had an interest like that before. I’m thirty-three. I’ve always been straight. This whole thing is stupid. I should just go home.”
Fox considered me for a minute. “You could have gone clubbing with me in Omaha. Gone to a straight bar. Picked up a woman.”
I grimaced. That sounded about as appealing as shaving a poodle. And that was saying something.
I was good at picking up women, but the sex was so empty, and the morning after so awkward that I usually ended up asking them out on a date, whether it was a good idea or not.
I mean, fuck, that’s how I’d ended up in the most drama-filled relationship of my life.
Just conflict and yelling and screaming.
We were completely wrong for each other.
I didn’t want that ever again. That’s why I’d let the Matchmaking Mamas set me up in the first place. Of course, they’d set me up with a guy and it’d seemed like the worst mistake at the time, but now, I couldn’t imagine not knowing Jamie.
“I don’t want to hook up with some woman. My head is a mess right now. What would be the point?”
Fox shrugged. “That’s just what most straight guys doubting their sexuality would do. Go confirm they like pussy.”
“Charming,” I said dryly.
“But not you. You wanted to come here, to a gay bar, instead. I think you’re looking for a different answer.”
I gulped my drink, letting the alcohol numb me as I asked, “What answer would that be?”
“You want to know if you can be with this guy. James, you said his name was?”
My heart lurched. “Jamie.”
“Jamie, right. So Jamie is out on a date, and you’re all up in your feels about it, right?”
“Maybe.” I sighed. “It’s silly. I should be happy for him.”
“Probably,” Fox said, sounding unsympathetic. “But you’re not because you’re jealous.”
I huffed. “I never said that.”
“It’s pretty obvious. You come here. You mope around while you imagine what he might be getting up to with his date. But none of that is going to help you.”
“What will then?” I asked. “Because I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me? Even if I do like Jamie—”
“You do.”
“Even if I do—”
“You do.”
“Fine, I like Jamie!” I exclaimed, throwing out my arms. “I still don’t know if I can be with him. Even if it’s not too late, and he’s not totally into this new guy, who says I can even give him what he wants?”
“Good point. I could call one of these cute twinks over to make out with you. You’d figure it out real fast.”
Everything in me rejected that so strongly I lurched off my barstool. “No fucking way.”
“Because the idea of a man repulses you?”
“No, because he’s not—” I raked a hand through my hair, stomach knotted up. The realization was there, pulsing behind my breastbone. “He wouldn’t be—”
I swallowed hard, tasted the words on my tongue, rolled them around. Fox waited me out, more patient than I’d ever seen him.
“Just say it, Hank.”
“He’s not Jamie,” I whispered.
Fox patted my arm. “Right. So, that’s an answer too, isn’t it?”
“But I still don’t know if I can be with him like that. How do you know?” I asked, my tone almost desperate. “I can’t mess up and hurt him. I can’t lead him on, you know? If I can’t give him what he needs, I have to let him go.”
Fox snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious.”
“Hank, be real. You’re already in love with this guy.”
My stomach swooped. “No. We’re friends. I like him, but—”
“You’re sick over the idea he might move on without you, man. I know this might be hard for you, given you’ve shown no sign of being into dudes. But be honest, have you really not imagined more with him? Even a kiss?”
My silence spoke volumes. Maybe I’d only imagined it tonight, in that moment that Fox and the bartender kissed in front of me, but there had been deeper truths tickling at the edges of my brain for a while. I’d dismissed them, denied them.
I just liked cuddling Jamie during movies because I wanted him to be comfortable.
I’d reacted so badly to Gordon flirting with him because he was an obvious douche and I was protective.
I’d bent over backwards to help him with his dogs, feed him dinner, and tease smiles onto his tired face because I was a good friend, and I hadn’t had someone I really connected with in so long.
“We connect,” I murmured.
“Right.”
“I haven’t really had anyone like that,” I admitted. “Not even a girlfriend. I mean, the sex was easy, but the emotional part? It just felt so forced.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Fox said. “Where is Jamie now?”
I checked the time on my phone and cringed. “Probably making out with his new boyfriend at the end of the date.”
“Dude, give your man some credit. It’s a first date. Maybe they’re exchanging an awkward hug on the porch while thinking they’re all wrong for each other.”
My stomach clenched. “Or maybe he had a great time, and he’s going to invite him inside.”
Fox sighed. “You’re going to make me drive your drunk ass over there, aren’t you?”
“Can you drive?”
“I’ve barely touched my drink. So here’s the deal. You text him and find out where he is. Play it cool though. Don’t be desperate or stalkery. I’ll close out the tab and drive you where you need to go.”
“What about the bartender?”
“Oh, I’m fucking him,” Fox said. “Whatever happens, I’m going to be back here by two a.m. and dropping to my knees, so do not fuck this up.”
Nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Flutters broke out. Ah god, I suddenly felt sick.
What if Jamie was already in bed with this date? What if he wasn’t? I didn’t know which scenario was more terrifying.
It was tempting to order another drink and bury my head in the sand, but if there was even the slightest chance that this friendship was more than platonic, didn’t I owe it to both of us to take a risk?
I just hoped it didn’t blow up in my face.