Chapter 14
Wyatt
He was so damned nervous he thought he might vomit all over Jin’s art gallery floor.
“Oh my God, stop it.” Jin materialized out of thin air, holding two glasses of champagne and shoving one into Wyatt’s hand. “Drink. You’re making me nervous, and it’s my show.”
Wyatt polished off the entire glass in two gulps, letting out a chest growling burp because of the bubbles.
A waitress dressed in a fairy costume and carrying an empty silver tray walked by. He placed his glass on it, voice hoarse as he said, “Two more.”
“Please, stat,” Jin insisted, before rounding on him. “What’s happening? You’re sweating. Is this a panic attack in real time?”
“Yes—no,” he gasped, sucking down air. “Maybe.”
He glanced around at the art pieces, which were image after image of men. All kinds of men: thick, dark, furry, muscular, tattooed, pierced, bald, old, gray. And butt ass naked.
Naked. Naked. Naked.
And he unknowingly invited John to this. On their first official date.
The art show was a collection of photos capturing ‘real men in the wild’, with themes of exposure and natural masculine beauty.
Every wall in the gallery was decorated with massive, blown-up art pieces that towered over them.
The men in the photos were all doing something, whether in their kitchen making coffee, at home, or in public places like the library, at work, or at the grocery store.
And all Wyatt saw were the number of fleshy, hard, semi-hard, or deflated dicks.
So many dicks!
Some of the art pieces were over-exposed shots grouped together to make one person, or polaroids decorating a chandelier.
One of the models was actually here, standing on a rotating centerpiece, also very naked, and being critiqued openly by viewers passing by.
He was well defined, flawlessly built and hung like a horse, with a piercing right through his…
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
Jin urgently waved down another waiter, who was also dressed in fairy wings and little else. He was carrying what appeared to be water in crystal glasses on his tray, and openly cringed at the sight of Wyatt, who self-consciously raced a hand through his sweaty hair.
“Vodka?” the waiter drawled, his mascara sparkling on his pink eyelashes.
Without answering, Jin plucked the entire platter out of the waiter's hands. “Thanks, honey.”
The waiter gawked, looking offended.
“Shoo,” Jin snipped, hissing through his teeth, prompting the waiter to dart away.
“Did you just hiss at him?” Wyatt asked, already grabbing two drinks off the tray.
“Yes, I did. She’s a prickly bitch. She worked the last show.” Jin frowned, watching him gulp down a shot. “I’ve never seen you this nervous.”
“I should call him,” Wyatt strained out, the vodka burning his throat, making its way to his chest. “I should warn him. Why didn’t you warn me?”
Jin arched a thinly plucked eyebrow. “When would I have done that exactly? You are never home! It’s like living with a ghost. I only know you exist because the coffee is rinsed out at night and magically comes back on in the morning.”
“It’s on a timer,” he breathed, reaching for another shot.
Jin tilted his hips, blocking his hand. “Oh no, hon. Give your liver at least five minutes to catch up before you take another.” Jin then drank two shots in front of him and handed the empty tray to another passing waiter.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jin said, glancing around the warehouse space.
Its industrial design matched well with the sleek feel of the show and the people invited, who dripped wealth from their designer clothes, down to their fine, pointed heels.
It was an eclectic group tonight. Ranging from reality TV stars to drag queens to CEOs with their trophy husbands or wives, and their mistresses on the other side.
These were the type of powerful people who were open with their likes and dislikes, unashamed in how they dressed, who they fucked, or what they said.
It was Jin’s crowd, and sometimes Wyatt’s.
But he wasn’t sure how John would react.
A newly out older man who possibly spent more time in the emergency department than anywhere else.
It would certainly be a shock, Wyatt thought, hands on his hips, fighting the urge to pace. Maybe John wouldn’t even come. He had ended their phone call rather abruptly.
Wyatt thought he’d been hit by the sun when he heard John admit his feelings for him. He burned from the inside out with pure, unfiltered joy, followed quickly by fear as he watched John panic and end the call before he could even reply.
John kept closing him out, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it anymore.
He wanted to be patient with John and knew it was the best strategy. But just because he knew he should do something didn’t mean he actually wanted to do it.
Oh, and let’s not forget the phone sex, because holy hell, Wyatt hadn’t expected to come that hard.
Maybe because it was rushed. Maybe because John looked so damned sexy, or because it was very taboo to do in his friend's house.
Regardless, when he did climax, he momentarily stopped breathing, seeing spots in his vision and coating Reyes' bathroom vanity with his spent, creamy bliss.
It was dirty and hot, and he couldn’t stop thinking about those slutty glasses John had worn for him, and his rich chest hair that Wyatt wanted to drag his nails through and take a nap on.
“I think I’m seeing spots right now,” Wyatt muttered, mostly to himself, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jawline.
“It’s just a date, right?” Jin asked curiously.
Just a date.
If only.
Wyatt grimaced at his best friend, inhaling a deep breath and feeling the first indicator of alcohol warming his insides. He noted Jin’s outfit then and smiled for the first time all evening. “Love the suit, by the way.”
Jin beamed, immediately twirling, showing off his sparkling orange-red suit that shone beneath the lights.
His tanned, exposed chest was seen through the sharp V-neck of his blazer, adding the sexy flare that Jin always insisted on.
His jet-black hair was slicked back and his cheeks were freshly shaved.
“You look good,” Wyatt said approvingly. “Do you have a date?”
Jin pouted, “I wish. Nope, just mama. She’ll be here later. She can drink all these bitches under the table and then some. She’s my ride or die now that she’s finally accepted her out and proud son.”
He chuckled, and his eye caught sight of a tall, attractive man standing with a group of people who were admiring the Polaroid wall.
He was staring directly at him in the way a hawk would before pouncing on their prey.
And then, as if to show he wasn’t that obviously on the hunt, he winked at Wyatt.
He knew exactly what kind of wink that meant in this crowd.
Jin suddenly let out a gasp, causing Wyatt to jump. “Oh my God, I think that’s a Real Housewife. I need to say hello.”
“I don’t.”
“Then stay here,” Jin snapped, darting away and heading toward a group of tall, gorgeous women.
The second Jin left, Wyatt couldn’t help but anxiously glance back toward the entrance, where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the busy LA street. No sign of John yet. He pulled out his phone, hoping maybe he would’ve called or texted…
“Hey,” a deep voice said, drawing Wyatt’s attention.
He glanced up from his phone and saw that it was the tall guy who had winked at him.
He bit back the urge to sigh, sliding his phone into his pocket and suddenly wishing he had a drink in his hand.
At that moment, another waitress walked by with drinks, but the cups were darkly mismatched and had an array of decorated straws.
He stopped the waitress, “What are these?”
She smiled, bright green glitter adorning her youthful face. “Mystery drinks.”
“With alcohol?”
“Duh.”
“Fantastic.” He reached for the purple one with the umbrella sticking out of it.
The tall man also took one, the bright green one with a twirly straw.
“I’m Conner,” the tall man said as the waitress strolled away, her cat tail swashing behind her.
“Sorry, not interested, Conner,” Wyatt said firmly.
Conner, to his surprise, smiled. And Wyatt realized in that moment how attractive the man was.
Sharp, almost regal features, with dark black hair and a perfectly cut square jaw with a dimple in the middle.
If he wore glasses and a boring suit, he’d be Clark Kent.
But he wore a casual yet expensive long-sleeved black shirt and khaki pants with polished leather shoes.
He screamed sex and money, and in that order.
“You’d be surprised how often I hear that,” Conner said smoothly, taking a drink out of his curly straw.
Wyatt arched an indifferent eyebrow.
He’d been hit on plenty of times since moving to LA and traveling in the same circle as Jin.
He blamed it on his boyish good looks, his dark, sandy blond hair, and his cowboy boots.
Tonight, however, he left the cowboy side of him at home and wore an all-black finely cut Italian suit that molded to his body like butter.
He had to admit, after putting it on, he rather liked dressing up.
The blazer fit a bit snugly over his biceps, but everything else was perfect despite not wearing it for a couple of years.
“You related to Glenn Powell? Maybe that Jake-something-actor?” Conner drawled, tonguing his straw.
Wyatt bit his back molars. “Have a good evening, Conner.” He clipped out and attempted to leave when Conner snaked a quick hand over his wrist, stopping him.
“Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean to offend, just trying to have a conversation.”
“And I already told you I’m not interested. Now, please, if you would, kindly let go.”
Conner didn’t, and Wyatt was about to yank free when someone cleared their throat loudly, and he glanced toward the sound, recognizing those dark, hauntingly blue eyes instantly.