Knowing that Ethan wasn't going to be at the bar until around nine o'clock, I waited until just shortly before then to show up. I didn't mind the extra primping time in the least. My closet is now a disaster zone, but I look hot as hell. I want to fuck me—and yeah, I probably just jinxed myself. I will more than likely be doing so later.
There is no bouncer at Rogue's, which is really a blessing most of the time, because we all know those bastards are prejudiced against straight men. Tonight, not having a bouncer is a small curse. The place is packed, as is usual on Open Mike night. I totally forgot it was open mike. Showing up late, I am hard-pressed to find a table for Ethan and myself.
I end up paying off an older couple who look disgruntled by the large crowd anyway. The table is small and kind of in a shitty location, but it's better than nothing.
I laugh when I spot Ethan because he's scanning the crowd for me like a hawk for its prey. Oh, if he only knew that he was actually the field mouse in danger of my sharp talons.
"Ethan," I call.
I swear I see his eyes light up from across the goddamn room, but that's probably just my hopeful gay talking. He shoves his way through the crowd and the happiness I thought he radiated now just looks like aggravation.
"It's packed in here, Christ. This table sucks," he grumbles as he squeezes in across from me.
"Sorry it doesn't meet your standards, Hotshot," I snark back. He looks hot, but his shitty attitude is already wearing on me. Is a 'hello' too much to ask for?
With Ethan, it apparently is. "Don't call me that hotshot bullshit, Jazz," he snaps.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you disliked it," I snap back. How did I forget how terribly irritating he is? In three short days, I completely forgot that the pretty face didn't have a shining personality behind it. Is it worth it? Is he worth it when his manners are so shitty? He very well could turn out to be dangerous to me after all, even if he doesn't seem like a malicious gay-hating asswipe.
"I can't see a thing from here and this table is tiny," he bitches some more.
That does it. It honestly does. I get pissed. I stand up, shoving my chair back with the force. "You know what, fuck you. I'm not apologizing to you again when I had to pay to get you a seat."
I have to squeeze past him to get out, because yeah, the table is really shitty and basically shoved into a corner with no view of the stage. But seriously, show some respect.
Ethan grabs my arm as I try to pass, but his mouth opens and it ruins the effect, even if his skin on my skin is making me want to drop to my knees and beg him to marry me. "Calm down, stop being such a girl."
I break the hold he has on my arm and push my way angrily through the crowd. I'm surprised to actually hear him following me.
"Jasper, come on, I wasn't trying to be such an asshole," I hear him say clearly as he exits the loud club behind me.
"Tell it to someone who cares, Ethan," I say. I'm shocked to hear how much it sounds like I don't care, or that the words even left me at all. I guess I don't really care, there will always be another guy so he's not that important, but shit, I hate losing.
"Don't make me say this, dude," he kind of whines and I stop, a bit intrigued.
I turn to face him and he's looking a bit red and flustered, not to mention pissed off and worn out, and despite it all, he still looks sexy as hell.
"Say what?" I ask.
He groans and drops his shoulders, looking way more defeated than a person of his stature ever should. He buries both of his hands deep into his hair before grabbing fistfuls and lowering his head. "If I were a girl, I'd be all emo and tell you I kind of need a friend right now," he mutters so low I can barely hear him.
I frown at the slightly pitiful image before me. He's stressed, that's obvious, but he's so proud he can't even ask for help and that's what really gets me. I wonder if I can make him ask for it.
"Was that you being an emo girl, asking me to be your friend? I thought I was the girl?"
I can see his mouth twitch slightly and I hold my breath. He's so goddamn moody, I don't know if he's going to smile or beat the shit out of me.
"Shut up, Jasper, you are the girl. If you could have slammed that door, you would have," he says, his already familiar smirk back in place.
"You're damn right I would have slammed that door if I could have, and it would have been in your face. I don't care who you are, no one treats me like that," I say firmly.
His eyes move to the ground, and he takes me seriously, which I didn't actually expect. He appears to be taking the reprimanding to heart. He nods when I finish and looks back up at me, through his eyelashes—which makes me wonder if he knows that it'll work like a charm on a sucker like me.
"I shouldn't have taken my shit out on you, and I'm sorry," he says sincerely. He looks like he wants to continue, but he swallows it back.
I momentarily consider inviting him to my house for drinks but decide against it. Not yet, not tonight, not with him in a bad mood.
"Do you need a hug?" I ask jokingly, mostly.
He sort of smiles. "See, you're the girl."
"Fine then, I'm the girl, but you're the one who is being all woe is me, hug me please, emo bitch-like."
He shifts his weight in a sort of nervous manner which makes me plan to back off. "I didn't ask for a hug," he states defensively.
"No, but you look like you need one. Besides, lawyers need hugs too, that shit isn’t sunshine and rainbows," I say gravely.
He snorts, he actually snorts before he laughs. I hate that it sort of makes me tingle with excitement to know that I made him do that. I made him smile and laugh and snort like a total dweeb—an incredibly adorable dweeb, at that.
"Okay, screw this, I'm hugging you," I say and step forward, giving him this epically awkward man-hug with my ass jutted out and away from him like I'm afraid his bulge might give me cooties or something. "There, hugged it out. Feel better now?" I ask, after I hurriedly step away.
"That was the shittiest hug I've ever had," he says back, shaking his head.
"Good, I'm glad," I say back, and he rolls his eyes at me. "So—"
"Do you—"
We both start at the same time, cutting each other off. I laugh and point to him. "You go."
"Uh, yeah, I was just gonna say that I have alcohol at my place, so you could come over, if you want."
Cha-ching! We have a winner. Too bad I was going to have to turn him down. "Oh, sorry, no, I should get home."
Ethan actually appears disappointed, which is great for me, but makes me feel bad. "Ah, yeah, me too. I have to study and shit. Cool, okay, I'll see you around." He starts to walk away, rather briskly, and I jog to follow him, my car is in the same direction anyway.
"Hey, maybe tomorrow. Gonna be here?"
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. "No, I have a ton of shit to do tomorrow. I'll probably just get trashed at home."
"Alone?" I ask, out of curiosity, and opportunity.
"Maybe," he says cryptically.
I nod and slow, since I'm approaching my car. "Well, you have my number," I say as he continues to walk away, "just let me know if you need a drinking buddy, I have nothing going on tomorrow night."
He shrugs his shoulders in response and I'm left wondering if he'll call or not.