Chapter 12 John #2
“It’s a real thing despite what John says,” Chad says seriously, leaning his entire body weight against me. “We’re family now. Our men are getting married.”
Liam slides an arm around Blake’s waist as he smiles softly. “How drunk are you right now, Chad?”
Chad holds up the remaining slushie. “Only this much.”
“No,” I correct. “He’s had far more than that.”
Blake laughs and kisses Liam’s cheek, murmuring something that makes Liam blush, and for a second, I can’t help but stare at how annoyingly sweet they are.
Chad’s body shifts against me again, stealing my attention, and I turn to make sure he didn’t fall asleep standing up or something, but instead, he’s looking at them with an expression I can only describe as longing.
The way someone might look when they watch someone they care about move on without them.
I really can’t stop wondering if Chad is in love with Blake. And why does the idea of that make something in my gut twist?
It’s gotta be related to Liam. A protectiveness for my friend. Concern that Chad might try to steal Blake back before the wedding or something equally as crazy.
“You guys are so lucky,” Chad blurts out, voice wobbling slightly. “I mean, look at you. All cute and in love and happy. I want that.”
Blake beams. “Thanks, bro!”
Liam chuckles, rubbing Blake’s back. “We’re lucky, yeah.”
That seems to remind Chad of something, and he stands up straighter. “Well, I’m lucky too! I’m so lucky to have John, he’s amazing and takes such good care of me,” Chad says, looking at me in the eye now. It’s not until Liam lets out a laugh that I’m able to pull my attention away as I look to him.
“I’m sorry, this is just… incredible,” he says through a laugh, and Blake has a shit-eating grin on his face, looking at our hands.
“I’m serious, guys! John let me blow him earlier and—”
“The dice!” I interrupt. “In craps. He thinks he’s a lucky charm or some shit. Jesus, Chad.”
“Exactly,” Chad mumbles, “and he’s finally going to let me see his dick piercing, we’re on the way for him to show me now, so while this was fun, we gotta go!”
I shake my head, but Chad wastes no time yanking me forward and away from our friends.
Blake cackles. “Have fun, besties-in-law!”
Liam gives me an amused, helpless shrug that somehow still feels smug. “Good luck.”
I roll my eyes, not dignifying that with a response, as Chad pulls me toward the entrance. I realize now that I didn’t even pull my hand away from his the entire time we were talking to Liam and Blake.
How drunk am I?
As soon as we get outside, Chad looks at me hopefully. “Now what? Where can we go so I can see it?”
“You’re not seeing it,” I growl at him, and we start walking down the street with neon lights blasting us from every direction. Screens flash, music is flowing from multiple casinos, and there’s someone in a superhero costume taking selfies for tips.
We merge into the flow of tourists, gamblers, drunk couples, and bachelorette parties. At least Liam and Blake have been chill about us doing our own things at night, even if it’s just so they can fuck. Plus, we did spend all day together.
Where I saw Chad practically naked multiple times.
God, he really did look so good dripping wet in his bathing suit.
Wait, that’s not what I should be thinking about right now. Focus.
“What’s that?” Chad gasps, pointing at a line of people holding neon-colored drinks, and the last thing he needs is more frozen, sugary alcohol. “A daiquiri bar!”
He wastes no time getting in line, and I confirm they have other drinks, thank god.
When it’s our turn to order, I put my free hand out on his chest—to stop him from talking and because he’s still got a death grip on my left one—and order for us.
“Can we have two large bottles of water?”
Chad inhales sharply next to me, and I immediately regret whatever I did to inspire the sound. His mouth appears to have dropped open in shock.
“Oh my god, are you worried about me again? That’s so sweet. I could kiss you right now,” he says reverently.
I don’t understand why he keeps saying things like that if he’s straight. All the sexual innuendos, the hand holding and touching, the begging to see my dick, and the way he wrapped himself around me in bed last night like a koala, none of it makes sense.
“No, you wouldn’t, you don’t kiss men.” I respond stupidly. Why did I respond at all? I guess I’ve had a lot to drink too.
“Says who?” He grins, looking really excited as he leans in to kiss me on the cheek a little closer to my mouth than I would consider normal.
But he’s drunk, so his aim being shit isn’t exactly a surprise. He pulls back, blushing now, and fuck, why does that make my lips curl up the slightest bit?
Chad is kind of like a puppy that you want to be mad at when it keeps chewing your shoes, but you can’t actually remain angry because of how innocent and cute it is.
Admitting that to myself is one thing, but understanding it is hopeless. On paper, he’s everything I hate: bubbly, loud, outgoing, and energetic. He really is like a goddamn golden retriever. But despite all of that, I keep letting him drag me around.
Forget his comprehension, I’m the one who seriously can’t seem to remember the word “no” or what it means when I’m around him. Chad’s getting under my skin… and I don’t completely hate it like I should.
The bartender sets the waters on the counter, and I pull out my card to pay. I did win a lot tonight with Chad’s initial money, the least I can do is buy us a few rounds. Chad somehow manages to look even more pleased than before.
“Thanks, babe,” he says, batting his eyelashes at me, and I ignore the pet name.
A guy in a robot costume walks by blasting EDM, followed by a guy dressed like Jesus wearing sunglasses. Jesus high-fives Chad, and I swear he almost combusts with joy. This man oozes happiness… unless he’s thinking about Blake or his love life apparently.
We keep walking down the strip. I don’t think we’re headed anywhere specific, but it’s slow going because Chad stops at literally everything.
A street magician tries to guess our birthdays.
Chad stops to get his picture taken standing on a platform while a moving camera spins around him.
A promoter tries to get us into a gay club, and for some reason, Chad really puts up a fight when I say no to that one.
“Oh! Look at that!” He gasps as we approach another crowded area.
I look more closely at the outdoor bar; it’s done up to look like some sort of fairy tale forest or some shit.
There are string lights hanging from fake trees, and each of the tables looks like a tree stump with mushroom-shaped chairs surrounding it.
Chad pulls me up to the bar where the menu has a bunch of strangely named shots themed after woodland creatures.
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. I don’t know if I would claim that I’m already hammered, but I’m definitely feeling the effects of what I’ve drank tonight.
And Chad has had even more than me. If he gets any drunker…
is that even a word? Drunk-er…? More drunk…
? Either way, if that man consumes any more alcohol, I’ll probably have to carry him home.
I don’t want to do that. He’s a big guy with a lot of muscles.
Annoying muscles that keep demanding my attention. Why does he look so good?
Chad drags me over to a table instead of the bar, and I’m pretty sure I said no to us going here, but I guess I was too distracted to actually stop him.
A petite woman in neon fishnets and a tutu that doesn’t at all fit the whole theme of this bar comes up and asks for our order. Chad beats me to answering. “Two of your finest shots, Madame Bartender.”
I grab his wrist on top of the table. “No more shots.”
He looks from where my fist is wrapped around his wrist up to my face, shrugging. “One shot.”
I attempt to glare at him. Usually people aren’t this good at ignoring all my glaring. I’m intimidating, damn it. “No.”
“Half a shot? Oh, yes, we can share! I’ll sip then you can sip.
Just a sip, John. Just the tip.” He laughs, talking himself into dick joke.
When I don’t join him in laughing, he looks at me with those impossibly big blue eyes and the goofiest grin, and to my horror, I lose control of my expression.
The harsh look I’d been giving him melts away as I snort a short laugh.
Fuck me.
I sag on my mushroom chair and take two twenties out of my wallet, looking up at the waitress, who, to her credit, looks amused by our exchange instead of annoyed like I’m sure I would be in her shoes. “Fine, two shots of tequila. You’re gonna feel terrible in the morning,” I remind him.
“Sounds like a future Chad problem. Plus, I have you. You can take care of me.” He smirks before winking again. “Don’t forget who you’re sharing a bed with tonight. It’s me, babe.”
“You guys make a hot couple,” the waitress says unabashedly before she starts to walk away.
“We’re not—”
“Thank you!” Chad calls out, looking really proud of himself. “We really do! And he has his dick pierced!”
“That’s it,” I say louder than I meant to, reaching across the small table to cover his mouth with my hand as I stare at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He licks my hand, and I pull it away as quickly as I can. “Seriously?”
“Huh?” he asks innocently. His permanent smile is somehow still on his face.
“You can’t just go around telling people about my dick,” I hiss, ignoring the licking thing because I probably should have expected that. “You’ve told half of Vegas!”
I’m not really upset, but damn, this is the most time I’ve spent with another human in a long, long time—why does it have to be one that has absolutely no filter? I’m usually a very private person, and Chad wouldn’t know privacy if it smacked him in the face.
“Oh, right, because it’s only for me to see tonight.” He winks in an over-the-top, exaggerated way.