Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
SPENCER
“Ladies and gentlemen, theys and gays! Can I have your attention, please?” The crowd murmurs softly, quieting down and giving the man on stage their undivided attention.
“My name is DJ Mac! I’m your host for tonight’s party, and I hope you’ve been enjoying the music so far!
” The crowd claps and cheers. “Now it’s time for Stick Shift’s first-ever leather and lace fashion show!
” More cheers, and my heart starts to race.
“There will be three winners based on your vote! That’s right!
You choose the winners, so get out your phones and scan the QR code, so you can vote for your top three favorites! ”
A bit of panic flows through me as four men carry out a makeshift catwalk that they attach to the front of the stage. I’ve never walked a runway before.
A woman with a black headset on walks down the line holding a clipboard, quickly writing down everyone’s names.
“Okay, listen up, everyone! Stay in this order! Do not switch spots with anyone, or you’ll mess up the voting.
We want to see personality, so don’t be shy! And most importantly, have fun!”
Tate, Daija, and Kaylee squeal, jumping up and down in a circle.
“This is gonna be so much fun!” Kaylee shouts in excitement.
Tate makes eye contact with me. “You okay?” he mouths.
I nod, even though I’m freaking out inside. But I don’t have much time to think about it because the music starts up again, and the first contestant starts their walk down the runway, doing the full splits at the end and making the crowd go wild.
Damn. That was crazy. I can’t do anything like that.
Kaylee’s up first from our group, and she struts down, spinning around and dropping it low in her lacy one-piece and shaking more than I ever knew she had.
Daija’s next, and the girls stop for a cheek kiss as they pass.
Daija does some sort of TikTok dance at the end of the runway, and the crowd absolutely erupts into cheers.
She keeps it classy and stomps her way back like a true supermodel.
It’s Tate’s turn now, and he glances at me with a mischievous little smirk, giving me a wink for good measure.
My eyes are glued to the stage as he struts across in his tiny shorts and leather harness like he owns the place.
He twirls around in a three-sixty before making his way down the runway, swaying his hips and making his ass jiggle the whole way.
Shrill whistles and loud cheers erupt from the crowd when Tate reaches the end, fluffing his curls before spinning around and twerking.
He bends over, folding himself in half and touching his toes.
Jealousy explodes from inside my chest, making my pulse race and my stomach uneasy.
Logically, my brain knows Tate isn’t mine, but my heart couldn’t care less what logic says. With hundreds of eyes on him, I feel unusually possessive.
Tate struts back down the runway and exits on the opposite side of the stage from us. Jake’s up next, and then it’s me.
“You got this, man,” I encourage Jake as he jogs up the steps to the stage.
He gets to the end of the runway, spins around, and then does two backflips in a row. The crowd hollers, and I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how close he got to the edge on that last one.
The woman in the headset signals that it’s my turn to go, and adrenaline pumps through my body.
I have tunnel vision to make it to the end and pose.
When I finally get to the end of the runway and flex my biceps and abs, the crowd is lukewarm.
Without overthinking, I spin around and flex my traps and glutes, making the crowd go absolutely wild.
“Look at that ass!” someone hollers, and a surge of pride rushes through me. I can’t help but grin as I make eye contact with Tate in the front row, sending him a wink before strutting off the stage.
Tate greets me at the bottom of the stairs with a hug. “You looked so hot, babe!”
“Not as hot as you,” I whisper into his ear. “Wait ’til I get you home tonight. I’m ready to devour that ass.”
Tate sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Let’s go home now, screw the contest, I’ve already won.”
I laugh, stepping back as our friends come running over. Everyone’s excited from the high of the show. It was a lot of fun, I have to admit. I’m glad I let Tate push me out of my comfort zone.
“Come on! They’re about to announce the winners!” Daija shouts, grabbing Tate’s hand and tugging him back to the stage.
DJ Mac taps the mic to get everyone’s attention. “Well! I have to say, that was the raunchiest fashion show I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure it would make any of your mothers proud!”
Everyone laughs, knowing our mothers would probably disown us if they watched.
“The results are in, and the voting was very close!” Mac says, looking down at his phone. “In third place, we have . . . Theo Wright!”
I have no idea who that is, until the tall, skinny guy who did the splits walks over to accept his bronze sash and gift certificate.
“In second place, we have Tate Sinclair!”
“Ahh!! Oh my God!” Tate shouts before jumping up and giving me a hug, followed by each one of our friends.
“Congrats, babe!” Daija squeezes him one last time before he goes to accept his silver sash and envelope.
“And our first-place winner is . . . Daija Morales!”
“Ahh!” Daija and Kaylee both scream, hugging each other tightly.
“I’m so proud of you, girl! You rocked it!” Kaylee says sweetly.
Daija hugs both Jake and me before going to stand in the middle and accept her golden sash and envelope of money.
“Congratulations to these three freaks!” DJ Mac shouts, and the crowd roars with laughter. “Now, let’s turn the music back up!”
Bright strobe lights flash across the dance floor, and the bass booms once again.
Our group meets up at the bar for one last drink. Everyone is full of chatter and excitement.
“I’m gonna make sure the girls get home safe. We’re all going back to Kaylee’s apartment to celebrate,” Jake tells me with a handshake and a half-hug.
I eye him suspiciously. “Behave, dude.”
“What? Bro, come on. I’m always a gentleman.”
I shake my head, leaving it be. “I’ll call an Uber for Tate and me. We’re gonna go back to our place and hang out.”
“Call of Duty?” Jake asks right away, like he’s worried he’s going to miss out.
“Nah, bro. Probably something more chill, like a movie.”
Or my dick in Tate’s ass.
I clear my throat, taking a sip of the ice-cold water, when what I probably need to do is pour it over my head.
Jake looks at me speculatively, but doesn’t comment.
Tate walks over, looping his arm through mine. “Ready when you are.”
We haven’t officially told anyone we’re hooking up. I mean, hell, I only came out to Tate earlier tonight. But I also don’t care if they figure it out on their own.
“Ready. ’Night, everyone.”
I know he doesn’t want anything serious, so I’m just living in the moment, and right now that moment is Tate. And he’s once-in-a-fucking-lifetime.