Chapter 6 #2
Standing next to each other, they looked similar at first glance—slight builds and dark hair—but the similarities ended there.
Joel was delicate, almost fragile, without a hint of Zach’s lean muscles.
Miles could see the attraction of those long eyelashes and pouty lips, but Joel couldn’t compare to Zach—to the striking, almost unsettling gray of Zach’s eyes, to the less-than-innocent smirk perpetually gracing his full lips, to the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline.
Lost in his thoughts, Miles was caught off guard when Joel tugged on his sleeve.
“We’re gonna go dance! Wanna come?” Joel yelled over the music, simultaneously gesturing to the dance floor.
Miles snapped his gaze to the conflicted expression on Zach’s face, and tendrils of guilt slithered through him.
This was Zach’s space, and he’d be damned if his presence prevented Zach from enjoying himself.
“Have fun!” Miles infused as much enthusiasm as possible into the words. “I’ll hang out here.”
That was all the confirmation Joel needed, grabbing Zach’s hand and leading him away. Miles watched them disappear into the mass of undulating bodies, then drummed his fingers on the bar, wondering if he should have another drink.
“What can I get you, hot stuff?” The bartender appeared in front of him, a sly smile curling his glossy lips. Miles let out a nervous chuckle and tried not to look too out of place. It was part of the man’s job to be nice and flirty. He wasn’t actually trying to hit on Miles.
“I had this blue drink earlier.” Miles lifted his empty cup, realizing too late how unhelpful the gesture was.
Thankfully, the bartender nodded in understanding. “Yeah, Blue Lagoon, tonight’s special. Want another?”
“Yeah.” Miles paused, pursing his lips in thought. “Is there a lot of alcohol in it?”
“A shot of rum and a splash of blue curacao.”
Miles chewed on the inside of his cheek while watching the drink being made.
One shot wasn’t enough to account for the intensity that had nearly bowled him over when he was talking to Zach, for the buzz of excitement still running through his veins, for the giddy lightness that usually preceded complete intoxication.
After paying for the cocktail, he ambled along the perimeter of the dance floor until he caught a glimpse of Zach shaking his hips next to Joel, their bodies moving to the beat with surprising fluidity.
He’d never seen Zach like this, never had a chance to observe him in his element.
Leaning against the nearest wall and sipping his drink, he watched the graceful movements with awe.
This was nothing like Miles’s pathetic attempts at dancing, if he could call them that.
On the rare occasion someone forced him to dance, Miles mostly shuffled his feet back and forth, keeping his torso completely still.
Not Zach. Zach was confident, sure in every movement. Not only on the dance floor, but in life.
They may have been the same age, but Zach was far ahead of Miles when it came to living.
“Can I buy you another drink?” A short blond in a tight tank top and denim cutoffs stood a few feet away, waiting with a sheepish smile.
“No, thanks, I’m…” Miles paused. Saying he was straight didn’t feel right. Bringing a straight dude to a gay club might be against the rules, and he didn’t want to make waves. “I’m with someone.”
The man’s hopeful expression fell, and he sighed heavily. “The hot ones are always taken.”
A small laugh burst out of Miles at the unexpected compliment. “I think that’s the first time a stranger has called me hot to my face.”
“I find that hard to believe.” The man made a show of looking Miles up and down. “You’re so…tall.”
“Thanks. I can’t take all the credit. My dad’s genes did the heavy lifting.”
“And funny!” He glared at Miles with mock accusation and threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “Life is so unfair.”
Miles shrugged, expecting the blond to lose interest and move on. Instead, the man came closer and sagged his weight against the wall.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll hang out for a bit. It’s a great vantage point,” he explained after Miles raised an eyebrow in question. “I’m Tyler, by the way.”
“I’m Miles.”
“Who are you here with?” Tyler asked, turning his gaze to the crowd. “Your boyfriend?”
“Umm. Yes?” Miles hadn’t expected to elaborate on his lie, and the alcohol in his system slowed his thinking.
“Uh-huh. And why aren’t you dancing with this boyfriend?” Tyler’s voice danced with a playful lilt of sarcasm.
“I don’t really dance.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t really dancing.” Tyler gestured around them. “Pretty sure anyone can pump their hips to the beat.”
It seemed more complicated than that, but Miles wasn’t going to argue. A few moments passed in silence before Tyler spoke again.
“Where is he, this mysterious boyfriend?”
“He’s…” Distracted by his conversation with Tyler, he’d lost track of Zach.
He scanned the dimly lit faces with a sense of urgency, suddenly afraid that Zach was gone.
Finally, he caught sight of the familiar silhouette and winced.
Zach was dancing with someone who wasn’t Joel, some tall, muscular guy whose hands traveled across Zach’s chest and stomach with too much freedom.
He swallowed the bitterness and pointed. “Over there. In the black tank top.”