Chapter 29
WORLDS WORST DATE
Taylor
Still riding high from the day before, Taylor smiled as he tapped the steering wheel and watched Johnny trudge up the driveway to Wendy’s little house on the outskirts of town.
He was wearing a white shirt that clung to every inch of his shoulders and waist, with navy chinos that made Taylor want to bite those meaty fucking thighs.
He looked like an accountant. A really, really hot accountant.
Taylor sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as his cock started to fill against his thigh again. “Chill,” he mumbled, giving it a sympathetic squeeze over his black jeans.
The Love Dust had done a number on his libido, so much so that he’d chased the sexual health clinic three times in as many hours, only to be met by a cheerful lady on the other end of the phone telling him to “Be patient, sweetie.”
Well, being patient was easier said than done when he’d had Johnny’s cock pressed against his arse cheek every night, or when his thick arms pinned Taylor to the bed, or his hips nudged Taylor’s thighs apart when he felt like lying on top of him and fingering him until he saw stars.
They’d been doing that a lot, and Taylor was still sore from having four fingers buried inside him, right up to the knuckles, that very morning.
Jesus, he needed to take a fucking chill pill because every time he looked at Johnny’s hands he started to salivate like a dog with rabies.
He took a breath, trying to maintain some kind of focus.
Wendy’s house was cute, with its slightly topsy roof and a ‘Come on You Blues!’ stencil sprayed onto the corner of the front window.
He grinned as Johnny passed her the massive bunch of roses they’d picked up from the supermarket, which she sniffed once before throwing over her shoulder and into the house.
Bitch.
They’d laid a bunch on Sam’s grave earlier in the day. She was much more grateful.
Johnny held out an arm for her, still reflexively avoiding the right even though the splint had been removed. That made Taylor’s blood boil, because how fucking dare they do that to—
Letting out another breath, he pushed a hand through his hair and watched as Wendy approached the car. She was clinging to Johnny’s arm, her thin fingers squeezing his elbow as she smiled at Taylor through the window.
Taylor shifted again, thighs twitching and toes curling in the stupid little brown boat shoes he’d found in the bottom of Johnny’s wardrobe.
Who the fuck was he kidding? Everything he was wearing was Johnny’s, right down to the navy blue boxers and socks.
It was all just a bit too tight, but fuck if it didn’t scratch his itch to climb inside Johnny’s skin.
Shit.
He was doing it again. Breathing hard and staring at Johnny like a fucking psycho. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to act normal.
Wendy giggled as she slid into the back seat, her sparkly blue dress catching the evening sun and sending spots of light pinging around the car. Taylor turned to her between the seats. “You can sit in the front, m’lady.”
“I’m good,” she said, smirking as she clipped her belt into place. “I’ve got a fantastic view from right here.”
She looked good all dolled up, and her heels were so high they made Taylor’s eyes water. “Damn, girl, you look great,” he said, giving her a salacious eyebrow wiggle through the rearview.
“I know.” She hummed, inspecting her nails. “Never know when you’re going to bump into Mr or Mrs Right. Even shaved my—”
“Oookay,” Johnny said, sinking into the front passenger seat. “I don’t need that mental image.”
Wendy tutted, leaning forward to slap Johnny’s arm. “I was going to say armpits, you perv.”
Taylor grinned, starting the car. “Stop thinking about Wendy’s clunge, you perv.”
“Stop calling me a perv.”
Huffing, Johnny pulled on his seat belt and leant across the gap to whisper in Taylor’s ear, “You’re the one pumping out pheromones left, right and centre.”
Taylor grumbled, the old seats of the Ford Focus suddenly more uncomfortable than he had ever known them.
The restaurant was booming, as usual, and warm air whooshed into Taylor’s face as they stepped in from the street.
There was a table of ten or so university students in the round booth near the bar, with another in the corner.
At least half of them were doing shots as they ate; cheering loudly as one demolished an entire kebab by swallowing the skewer like a fucking sword eater.
Two thirds of the group looked up as they crossed the threshold between the porch and the main restaurant, only some of them having the decency to look away when Taylor glared back.
Usually he didn’t mind the noise or the people, but tonight…
Tonight something was rubbing him the wrong way and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Alright?” Johnny asked, pressing himself to Taylor’s side as they meandered towards the table in the window.
Taylor slipped an arm around Johnny’s waist, nestling him against his hip. “Yep,” he replied, top lip peeling back reflexively when he noticed that one lad just would not stop staring at Johnny’s neck.
Johnny slapped his arse. “Jesus, put your fangs away, you’re making a scene.”
Taylor frowned. “No, I’m not, I’m—oh.”
He realised then that the two tables had fallen silent, creating an atmospheric void in the restaurant. Johnny’s mouth twitched into a tiny smile as Taylor tried to tuck his fangs away, which was easier said than done when they felt like they were pulsing in his gums.
Wendy slipped between them as they arrived at the table. Maman had placed rose petals everywhere and there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket at its centre. “Everything tonight is on the house,” she said, appearing at Taylor’s elbow.
She looked up at him and Johnny, a thin sheen of sweat coating her brow.
Taylor smiled back, pulling her into a hug.
Squealing, she slipped out of his grip to shake Wendy’s hand and wrap a white cloth around the neck of the champagne bottle.
It all looked fancy as shit, and Taylor was beginning to regret not dressing up as an accountant too.
A flush rose high on Wendy’s withered neck as she looked at the table. She swallowed and said, “I haven’t been wined and dined like this for a very long time.”
He and Johnny glanced at each other before Taylor held out an arm and dipped into a deep bow. “Your Highness,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the chair.
She wiped a hand across her eyes, giving them a wobbly smile as Johnny held out a chair for her. “Thank you,” she said, bringing a napkin up to her nose and blowing hard.
There was a loud pop as Johnny opened the bottle of champagne, and he flicked the linen napkin over his shoulder like a sexy fucking waiter as he poured Wendy a glass. Honestly, all of Taylor’s cosplay fantasies were coming true in one night.
His fangs popped out again, because it was kind of pissing him off watching Johnny pour a drink for someone who wasn’t him because, actually, Wendy could pour her own fucking drink and all of Johnny’s attention should be on—
He blinked, realising he was glaring again as Johnny’s eyes flicked back and forth between Taylor and the bottle.
“You… want a beer or something?” Johnny said, eyebrows scrunching.
Taylor didn’t answer, only stared at the way Johnny’s hand gripped the neck of the bottle, his long fingers sliding up and down the length of it like it was—
“Taylor?”
Taylor coughed. “Yes. Beer. Beer… fine.”
Johnny laughed, though it had a nervous edge to it. “Okay, caveman,” he said, putting the bottle back in the bucket and running his palms across Taylor’s shoulders. He smiled at the waitstaff, all casual and relaxed as he walked towards the bar, those tight fucking trousers clinging to his arse.
Something cool and smooth slid across the back of Taylor’s hand. “Thank you for this,” Wendy said, patting his knuckles. “I don’t… I haven’t… JP told you about the dates, and the made-up boyfriend, I assume?”
Taylor swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Johnny. “Ah… yeah. To be honest I feel kind of cheated, Wend. I was fully invested in Bob the electrician.”
Wendy laughed. “Plumber. He was a plumber.”
Taylor tipped his head, giving her a sidelong glance. “But was he though?”
“No, he wasn’t! Because he wasn’t real. I made all that shit up so we’d have something to talk about.”
Taylor snorted, leaning back in his chair. “He was real to me.”
Wendy chuckled and took a sip of champagne. “I know, darlin’. Also, HR finally served me my papers. They’re forcing me to retire.”
“Oh shit. Since when?”
Johnny reappeared at the table, placing a bottle of beer in front of him.
Wendy shrugged, dragging the tip of her fingernail across the bright pink blush on one cheek. “Since JP got hurt. I… I’ve been thinking about that day non-stop. I think if I… if I’d have been younger, fitter, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt so badly.”
“Wendy.” Johnny cut her off. “What happened in Applewood Heights is on me. One hundred percent. You warned me and I ignored you.”
“Yeah but… we shouldn’t be afraid to go to places like that, you know?
We might police Dingly Heath but we’re still police officers.
Like you said, JP, am I police officer or am I just clinging on to this fucking job because it’s all I’ve got?
” Wendy picked up her napkin, pressing it to her eyes.
“I’m old now, I know that. I think I should just enjoy what little of my life is left. ”
She blew her nose again, laughing when the napkin came away covered in black smudges.
“Well shit, now I’ve gone and wiped my eyebrows off.
I’ll be right back.” She rose slowly from her seat, glancing over at them as she turned in the direction of the toilets.
“And if you feel like slipping something into my drink while I’m gone… be my guest.”