8. Will #2
He doesn’t actually seem upset, and I latch onto the idea of “next time.” “I’ll make sure to figure out what your favorite drink is before I buy you anything in the future.”
Our gazes lock as we smile at each other, and it really does feel like an important moment.
The guarded hesitation he usually has around me is nowhere to be seen, and his carefree joy is infectious.
No wonder he has so many people out tonight to celebrate with him.
“Well, I can let you get back to your friends. I don’t want to monopolize your birthday. ”
“You could go back to your boring sports friends, oooor…” He trails off, smirking. I quirk a brow, waiting for him to continue. If Porter doesn’t want me to leave, I’m not going anywhere. “You could buy me a real birthday shot? One that we both enjoy, maybe?”
“Yes, that option. I need this awful taste out of my mouth as soon as possible.”
“That’s what he said,” Porter blurts before cracking up. “Sorry, I probably should have kept that as an inside thought around you.”
“You don’t have to filter yourself around me, Porter,” I assure him.
He squints at me skeptically for a moment. “I have a feeling you’re going to regret saying that. Come on, let’s get more shots.”
He confidently heads for the bar, and I follow as he walks right up to Delilah. “Can we please have tequila shots this time? Whatever’s cheapest is fine.”
Delilah raises a brow at me, and I subtly shake my head. She nods and reaches for the top shelf, but I don’t think Porter even notices. I wonder how many shots he’s had tonight, and order him a water too, just to be safe.
Porter picks up one of the glasses with the lime she sets on a square white napkin. “Now this is a birthday shot.” He clinks his against mine as I pick it up. “Cheers.”
We down them together, then suck the limes.
“So much better.” I nod and hand him his glass of water, which he takes without protest.
“Infinitely,” he agrees, and I make a mental note to remember that Porter likes tequila. We turn away from the bar, and Porter must notice Cam and Nathan’s attention on us. “Are those your friends?”
Cam says something to Decker, and yup, now they’re all staring, looking very amused. Well, actually, Nathan looks almost… confused? Maybe concerned.
Whatever, his worry about me being friends with Porter isn’t my focus.
I already told him I didn’t care what people thought of me being friends with him, and I meant it.
Tonight is about Porter’s birthday, and I want to help him have the best birthday ever.
I give them a nod, then turn my attention back to the birthday boy.
“Yeah. They’re probably wondering if tonight is the night I’ll finally convince Delilah to go home with me,” I joke, but for some reason, I immediately regret mentioning hooking up with anyone to him.
“Didn’t seem like it,” Porter teases, and I sigh in relief that my comment didn’t appear to bother him the way it did me.
“Nope, and it probably never will,” I admit.
Porter takes a big sip of his water, and I realize he’s already finished it. “Well, I’m at a bar. On my birthday,” he begins.
“Right,” I agree. “Soooo, another shot or…?”
“Or,” he answers decisively. “I want to dance.”
“Then go dance,” I encourage with a laugh.
He looks back at me with a questioning gaze. “Care to join me? Or is that too much for your straight self to handle?”
“Fuck, I really shouldn’t keep announcing that, should I?” I cringe, but Porter is still smiling as he rolls his eyes.
“It was just unnecessary when I wasn’t even flirting with you.”
“Unnecessary?” I repeat, even though I know it was, I just don’t know what else to say.
“Yes.” He pokes my chest lightly with one finger. “Like announcing you’re lactose intolerant before anyone offers you cheese.”
“I feel like that’s useful information,” I joke. This back and forth with him is fun, despite the fact that I agree with him completely.
“Only if cheese is actively involved,” he counters. “Otherwise, you’re just making assumptions, like that I’d want your dick in me.”
“Was that an option?” I ask before my brain catches up. Shit, I think I’m the one who needs water. What the fuck am I saying?
His mouth opens and closes before he actually speaks, landing on. “Wow. You really don’t think before you speak, do you?”
I hurry to apologize. “Shit. I’m sorry, I blame the alcohol for that. I took it too far.”
Which is true. Mostly. I think.
Fuck, I don’t know what’s going on. Am I flirting with Porter? No, that wouldn’t make sense. I’m just trying to be his friend… even if I don’t talk to my other friends like that.
He watches me curiously for a long moment. “Alright, well, in case you were actually looking for an answer, no, it’s not an option, so keep it in your pants. I’m not interested in being anyone’s experiment.”
“Understood, but I wasn’t,” I assure him with an awkward laugh. “Sorry if I made things weird.”
“Nah, I don’t always have the best filter either, I get it. So are we dancing or what?”
I’m not opposed. “I don’t think you’re ready for these moves,” I answer with a more genuine laugh this time, shaking my hips.
He smirks and shakes his head. “Oh, I think I can handle you.”
I’m back to grinning. “You’re going to regret this, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I already regret lots of things,” Porter replies cheerfully, tugging me toward the dance floor. “One more won’t kill me.”
I’ve always enjoyed dancing at bars. It’s freeing being in a crowd where everyone lets go and embraces the music.
The carefree way Porter is moving makes me think the alcohol is hitting him just as hard as it’s hitting me.
With his arms raised and his loose black crop top, his bare skin is on display, demanding attention.
He certainly has mine. He’s nodding his head to the beat, smiling at me, and it warms something in my chest.
We aren’t touching, just dancing near each other, and it must be because I don’t usually dance with so much space between me and another person that I feel a tiny urge to pull him closer to me. I shake that thought loose, though. I don’t need to be touching him.
Porter asked me to dance. He wants me here with him—that’s all that matters.