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The club made Evan feel weird. He loved being there and finally seeing a piece of Atlanta’s nightlife. He loved being in a gay club and seeing men free to touch and kiss each other. He was ridiculously turned on by the sight of them, but he didn’t want any of them. All he wanted was the guy sitting beside him who looked like he was having a horrible time.
Jeremy only smiled when he saw Evan looking at him, and Evan could see the tightness around his eyes that didn’t seem to go away even when he did smile.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning in so Jeremy could hear him. “I mean your head and your leg and everything?”
Jeremy had been acting weird since he showed up at Evan’s apartment earlier. While Jeremy was fixing his hair, Evan would have sworn they’d nearly kissed, but Jeremy had turned all snarly and sullen. Evan chalked it up to him being in pain, but Jeremy kept denying it. He wasn’t fine—that much was clear—but Evan couldn’t tell what was wrong.
Jeremy’s nod was short and jerky. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about me.”
But Evan did worry about him, and he was starting to wonder if coming here had been a mistake. The night before, when he woke up in the early hours of the morning, warm and safe in Jeremy’s arms and bed, it hit him how much he cared for Jeremy. How much he wanted him—as way more than a friend—and it was time he stopped thinking things were going to change.
Maybe Jeremy did flirt sometimes, maybe he did hold Evan as if he was something special, but he didn’t want to be with Evan. And Evan couldn’t do it any more; it hurt too much.
Getting out of Jeremy’s bed and leaving was the most difficult decision he’d ever made, but he felt like it was something he had to do. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life waiting for Jeremy to change his mind. So he’d called Jeremy to take him to the club.
He went determined to meet someone, but the whole clubbing experience wound up being more intimidating than he expected, even with Jeremy right beside him showing him what to do. How was he going to go off with a guy and hook up with him if he wasn’t comfortable being more than a few steps away from Jeremy?
By the time Evan finished his second drink his head felt kind of floaty and light. It gave him enough courage to turn to Jeremy and say, “I’m going to go dance,” and force his shaky legs to stand. He walked toward the crowd with determined confidence that was entirely faked, and the last image he saw before the crowd closed around him was Jeremy staring after him, his jaw tight and his hand clenched around his glass so hard his knuckles were white.
Evan closed his eyes as the music flowed into his body, letting it move through him. He tried not to think about the men around him and wondered if they thought he looked childish and ridiculous. For a while, he didn’t think about anything but the feel of bodies moving, brushing his, and the crowd moving and surging around him.
He jerked in surprise when he felt a hand at his waist, and for a moment—the briefest moment—he thought it was Jeremy. Evan was about to turn and tell Jeremy he was happy he was dancing, when he realized both the smell of the guy’s cologne and the feel of his body were unfamiliar. Hating the way his heart lurched with disappointment, he forced himself to keep dancing, let the guy pull him closer. He closed his eyes again and let the man move him, grind against him, kiss his neck and his ear. He was hard, and Evan was getting there too, but the feel of unfamiliar arms around him, of not knowing who the guy was, felt all wrong. Evan tried to push the feeling down, but the edge of discomfort never quite left.
After a while, the guy grew tired of him and left, and someone else moved in. Talking was impossible over the music, and he didn’t even try. He had no idea how long he danced, but he felt a weird disconnect between his brain and his body that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system. He felt dizzy from the drink, and his body liked the feel of men touching him, but his brain couldn’t seem to get on board.
Eventually, when the discomfort reached a level he couldn’t tolerate any more, he fought his way out of the mass of sweaty, writhing bodies and found Jeremy talking to a guy. He was a little older than Evan was, kind of hot, and he was leaning in close, smiling at Jeremy. It felt like a sharp, burning stab to the guts when he realized Jeremy hadn’t been honest with him. Yeah, maybe he didn’t want to be with Evan, but clearly, there were other guys who interested him. Feeling like all the air had been knocked out of him, he made a wide half-circle around the table and headed for the stairs. He caught a glimpse of Jeremy motioning him to come over, but he couldn’t bring himself to join them. He ran down the stairs, shaking off the hand of a guy who grabbed at his wrist, and he pushed through the crowd to the bar.
His eyes stung as a bartender—a different one than the earlier guy whom he’d embarrassed himself in front of—took his order of another rum and Coke.
“You have a tab started?” the guy asked.
He nodded. “It’s under the name Lewis,” he shouted back. “Actually, never mind, I’ll pay for this one with cash, okay?”
The guy shrugged and fixed his drink while Evan fumbled for his wallet. He shoved some money at the guy and stuck some more in the tip jar like he’d seen people do earlier before tilting the drink up and downing it. He nearly choked on it and ended up with the sticky sweet drink trickling down his chin. He finished it anyway and set the glass on the bar top. He made a beeline for the back of the club, fighting his way through the crowds and feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies. He had to wait in line for the bathroom, and he did his best to ignore the couples around him—men kissing and grinding against each other in dark corners.
His head started to get spinny as he waited, and by the time he finally stumbled into the sticky-floored bathroom that smelled of piss and a musky scent that made him wrinkle his nose, he hardly recognized his face in the mirror. He splashed water on his bright, flushed cheeks and wiped away the spilled Coke. He tried to ignore the sound of someone moaning with pleasure coming from a nearby stall as he wiped his face with a rough brown paper towel.
Uncomfortable and overwhelmed, he decided to find Jeremy and tell him he wanted to leave. As he pushed out the door, brushing against a huge beast of a guy, he felt a tug on his shirt that stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey, there, pretty little thing,” the guy growled. He was big and burly with sweaty muscles barely covered by a tank top and painted on jeans. Dark hair covered a broad chest, and Evan had to tilt his head back to look at his square, handsome face.
“Me?” Evan squeaked, looking up at the guy in confusion.
The guy’s grin was crooked, and for a moment, it reminded Evan of Jeremy. “Yeah, you. Interested?”
Evan blinked rapidly; he had no idea what the guy was talking about. “In what?”
The guys around him roared with laughter, and the big, burly one grinned. “Sure are feisty for a little guy. Come on, what do you say, you, me, a couple of condoms, and the stall over there? You in? I’d like to split your tight little ass wide open.”
Evan’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, no. I ... someone’s waiting for me,” he managed, breaking free of the guy’s hold and bolting up the stairs for the table where Jeremy waited.