Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
The venue is packed. Every flavour of queer makes up the thick mob on the dance floor. Twinks twerk in their tight booty shorts. Glamorous femmes with forty-inch lace front wigs and acrylic nails herd together. Fly studs wearing fitteds, glinting chains and fresh pairs of Js edge the perimeter.
I head for the bar, deciding to get another drink now while the line isn’t too hectic.
Vybz Kartel’s voice booms so loud over the speakers that I barely catch Kristen saying, “I’m going to find Hailey.”
Nodding, I watch her disappear into the crowd. I order another MGD. The bartender cracks a bottle open for me. I slide a ten on the counter and move out of the way. I scan the area, looking for a pop of orange, but I have no luck. It’s very dark and very busy. Head bopping to the music, I navigate through the horde of gyrating bodies. I can feel the alcohol working its magic. I’m feeling looser.
Halfway through my beer, I’ve circled the large room twice, and still there’s no sign of Noémie, Wayne, or Corie. I’m thinking about texting them when arms encircle my waist. A woman’s mouth presses against my ear. “You didn’t tell me you were coming out tonight.”
I recognize the voice. Turning around, I face Audrina. Tonight, she’s wearing grungy jeans with a studded belt and a cropped purple Raptor’s jersey. A floppy toque sits atop her shoulder-length curly hair. Usually, Audrina’s style leans towards hot secretary, which I dig. But I have to say, she’s looking hella fine in masc attire.
“I missed you,” she says, brushing her lips over mine. Not one to be subtle, she grabs my crotch and pouts. “Not packing tonight—what a pity.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s all you ever want me for.”
She reels me in until our foreheads touch. “You know I want so much more than that,” she murmurs against my lips.
I don’t say anything to that, and she doesn’t expect me to. We start kissing and dancing. Her hips grind into me, and I match her movements to the beat of the reggae music. It feels good, so good to be wanted. My hands slip up her shirt, and my thumbs caress the skin of her stomach as I nuzzle her neck. Audrina’s fingers dig into my back.
We’ve always had amazing chemistry. If it weren’t for my hangups, perhaps we’d be a perfect match for each other. But I do have hangups, and I don’t do relationships. Since the summer we’ve been fucking—I can’t remember the last time I’ve kept a fuck buddy around this long. In a way, I’m probably leading her on, which isn’t fair to her.
Guilt makes me pull away. Audrina tries to pull me back.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I say with a shake of my head. “You want and deserve so much more than I can give you.”
Audrina looks at me with eyes wide and hurt. She opens her mouth to say something.
“There you are!”
My gaze darts over Audrina’s shoulder. Noémie is in the process of shimmying her way through a group of friends chatting in the middle of the dance floor.
Audrina looks in the direction I’m staring. She scowls, her hurt morphing to anger and hot possessiveness.
Noémie doesn’t seem to notice Audrina. Arriving at my side, she laces her fingers through mine. “Wayne and I have been looking all over for you.”
“Jordan, who’s this?” Audrina asks, crossing her arms.
Noémie smiles a little too sweetly at Audrina. “I’m Noémie, Jordan’s roommate.” She holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Audrina’s eyes ping-pong between me and Noémie. She ignores Noémie’s outstretched hand. Her jaw clenches. “You never mentioned a roommate,” she says, giving Noémie a dirty look. “Then again, we don’t do too much talking when we’re together.”
Noémie’s smile drops. “I need to go to the washroom,” she says, squeezing my fingers.
“And I’m going to get a drink,” Audrina says, arching a brow. “Coming, Jordan?” I know what she is really asking—she’s asking me to choose her and ditch Noémie.
Scratching the back of my ear, I divert my gaze. “Maybe I’ll catch you later,” I say.
Audrina’s nostrils flare. “Don’t bother.” Whipping around, she forces her way through the web of dancers.
Though we were never official, it kind of feels like a breakup. I don’t think I’ll be getting texts from her anytime soon—the revelation weighs surprisingly heavy in my chest.
Noémie leads us off the dance floor and down a narrow staircase. The queue to use the toilet extends out of the washroom. We take our spot at the back of it. I find it odd that Noémie still hasn’t dropped my hand, but I’m not going to say anything. I love the feeling of our fingers intertwined.
Down in the venue’s dank basement, the music is drowned out, allowing for more practical conversation. Neither me nor Noémie says anything though. I’m a bit surprised that she’s not asking about Audrina. I wonder what’s on her mind. She’s frowning the slightest bit.
We shuffle forward as the line moves. Behind us someone says, “Gawd, you guys are too fucking cute.”
It’s Noémie’s blush that makes me realize that the comment is directed at us. Eyeing the woman standing behind us, I force a grin. She’s short and curvy with tousled hair dyed pink and sweat beading her forehead and upper lip. Clipped to her shirt is an enamel pin shaped like a PlayStation controller with Gaymer printed on it.
“We aren’t together,” I say. While I don’t mean for my words to sound bitter, they do. I hope Noémie doesn’t notice.
“Shame. You’d make the cutest babies,” the pink-haired woman comments.
“That’s not even possible,” Noémie says dryly, clearly showing her disinterest in the conversation.
I’m not interested in it either. Sometime between arriving at the club and this moment, my mood soured. I just want to go to bed. Lifting my beer bottle to my lips, I finish it off. There are a few empty bottles on the floor. I set mine down to join them.
“Yes, it is. I read it somewhere …” The woman taps her chin and frowns. “I can’t remember. Too drunk.”
“Aren’t we all,” Noémie mutters.
“How much have you had to drink?” I arch a brow at her. I hope she hasn’t had too much. Drunk Noémie is a diva.
“I don’t drink and tell,” she replies. Her tone is off—she sounds tired.
Finally, we reach the front of the line. A stall door opens and two women stumble out. One of them is Hailey, and the other is one hundred percent not Kristen.
“What the actual fuck?” My feet move on autopilot. Before I know it, I’m in Hailey’s air space. “You’re fucking disgusting,” I snap, shoving her.
Hailey stumbles into the garbage can. The grey plastic bin turns over with a thump, scattering crumpled and damp brown paper towels onto the stained concrete floor.
“I’m not the one who’s a homewrecker,” Hailey claps back, straightening. Her eyes glint like the edge of a polished blade.
For a moment, I think Hailey’s going to retaliate and come at me. I don’t think I can take her if she does. She’s a police officer. She knows how to take people down. But Hailey doesn’t come after me. Instead, she grabs the woman—who she’d been doing only God knows what with—by the elbow and rushes them out of the washroom.
Dozens of eyes are focused on me. Noémie’s looking at me like I’ve grown a fucking tail. A wave of embarrassment crashes over me, and I zip into a vacated stall to escape scrutiny. My heart pounds in my ears. I’m burning up, and the world is tilting. I lean against a wall and close my eyes.
There’s a knock on the door. “Jordan, you okay?” When I don’t answer, Noémie says, “Let me in.”
I don’t want Noémie to see me like this—a mess. So why am I unlatching the door? Why am I letting her inside when I just want to be alone?
She squeezes into the tight space, and we shut ourselves away from it all.
“Are you okay?” Her hands go to my face. She strokes my cheeks with her thumbs. I know she is trying to comfort me, trying to be helpful, but her nearness is not making things better.
Her proximity is a catalyst. It’s like everything I was feeling moments ago gets whited out. Noémie’s mere presence rewrites everything. All I feel now is pure, raw lust. I want to force her up against the wall, push up her dress, and yank down her panties. I want to bite down on her neck and mark her as mine. I want to …
I have to look away from her. I can’t meet her eyes.
“Jordan, please talk to me. You’re worrying me,” she says softly. Still, her hands caress my face. Her touch makes me shudder.
Against my better judgment, I look at her. Our eyes lock for a moment, and then I’m staring down at her mouth. Her glossy lips are slightly parted. She licks them. I lick mine. Our eyes meet again.
Noémie’s hands drop from my face. A flush of red colours her chest and neck. She’s breathing heavier.
My gaze goes to her breasts. They’re pushed up and on display. Just looking at them makes me ache.
“Jordan …” Noémie says my name and inches closer before hesitating, like she is teetering at the edge of an invisible boundary—one that she’s not quite sure how to cross. Or maybe doesn’t want to cross.
All I can think about is how good it will feel to kiss her. I forget about Hailey. I forget about Kristen. I have tunnel vision—Noémie is all I see.
I bridge the gap between us, pressing my body into hers. Noémie sucks in a breath as her back flattens against the wall.
Fuck, she feels so good. Her body is so soft and warm. I run my hands over her hips. I cup her ass. I rock against her, making her gasp. Noémie shivers, and I take it as a good sign. I bend my head. Our lips are a breath apart when someone bangs so forcefully on the washroom stall that the door rattles.
Noémie and I spring apart.
The person on the other side of the door keeps banging. “Get the fuck out. People out here have to piss!”
Noémie moves first, scrambling for the lock. When the door opens, she bolts.
I take off after her. “Noémie!”
She doesn’t break her stride, heels clacking loudly on the cement. She pushes past a group of women and hurries up the steps.
I take the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up to her. Back on the dance floor, I grab her wrist. Noémie yanks back her hand. When she looks at me, her gaze is pure ice and I freeze.
Fuck—did I read the situation in the bathroom all wrong? Did I force myself on Noémie? Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!
My stomach rolls over, a wave of sickness punching me in the gut. I hug my stomach. Of all people, I should know better. I should be better.
I know what it’s like to be touched without consenting. The darkest chapter of my life happened over the summer when I was fourteen.
I’d been at the rec centre and just exited the pool. Jamal, a boy of eighteen at the time, followed after me and then dragged me by my arm into a stairwell. Because he was tall, dark, and handsome, I don’t think Jamal had ever experienced being told no before. It had been inconceivable to him that I didn’t want him.
“Quit acting like you don’t want this,” he’d snapped, right before …
I squeeze my eyes shut and push the memory away. Shaking my head, I tell myself that I’m nothing like Jamal. If Noémie gave me any indication that she wasn’t interested, I would have stopped.
Opening my eyes, I stare up at her. “Noémie, I’m?—”
“There you two are,” Wayne exclaims, rushing over to us. “We need to go. There’s an emergency.”