“I’M NOT sure this is a good idea.” Connor sat on the edge of one of the queen-size beds in their hotel room, looking about as uncomfortable as Graham had ever seen him.
“Don’t be a wimp. It’ll be fun. Besides, when’s the next time you’ll get an opportunity like this? There aren’t any clubs within forty miles of Green Valley, underage or otherwise.”
“Yeah, but does it have to be in Boystown?”
“Why not? Are you afraid someone will think you’re gay?”
“That’s not it. No one will know me, so I don’t care what they think. It’s….” He looked deep in thought; then after a moment, he nodded, apparently his decision made. “You know what? Let’s do it. It’s time I did something spontaneous. There’s one problem, though.”
“What’s that?” Graham held back his smile, but the thrill dancing through his body made him want to sing. It had been forever since he’d had a night out with a friend, a night of music and dancing, hanging out in a city. Green Valley was turning out to be an all right kind of place, but it definitely lacked excitement.
“Don’t laugh, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
Graham did laugh. Not quite what he’d been expecting. “We’ll figure something out. Grab your bag. What did you bring?”
“Only the stuff for going to the game. It didn’t occur to me that we’d be going out. My mom made me pack a button-down shirt in case we went to dinner or something, but that’s pretty much it.” Connor upended the bag on the bed, sifting through the possibilities.
Graham caught sight of a white tank undershirt. Though this one was clean, it brought back memories from the day he’d gone by the shop and saw Connor in his oil-stained shirt. Graham’s grin widened. He’d had a ton of daydreams about Connor in that shirt.
He pulled it out of the pile and offered it to Connor. “This.”
Connor’s brow creased. “Seriously? It’s an undershirt.”
“I know. But that paired with your jeans is a great combination. The club will be hot so you’ll be grateful within a few minutes. Besides, you’ve got awesome arms. You might as well show them off, set the pretty boys to drooling.”
A blush darkened Connor’s golden skin. “Knock it off.”
It was crazy how much Connor seemed to blush. Crazier still, Graham found it adorable. And sexy. But he tried not to think about that. He’d lost most of his friends after the situation in St. Louis, so he couldn’t afford to run off the only real friend he had in Green Valley by making him uncomfortable. Also, lusting after Connor was a guaranteed heartbreak.
With a doubtful look, Connor took the shirt from him. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. So no more wasting time. Let’s get changed and head out. I’ll take the bathroom, you change out here. We leave in ten minutes.”
After quickly grabbing his clothes and toiletry bag from his suitcase, he shut himself into the bathroom. It only took a second to ditch his shirt and jeans. A glance in the mirror and his excitement dimmed. Though the marks didn’t look as horrible as they had months ago, the scars covering half his torso and most of his right arm were still disgusting. Was this really a good idea? His stomach clenched. Was he actually ready to go out and join that scene again?
The sounds of Connor zipping his bag in the other room got him moving. Ready or not, he thought, here we go.
Hair putty, a comb, and hairspray took care of creating the punk look he liked for his hair. The pants he pulled on were skintight leather that had cost a small fortune but were absolutely worth the money. He paired them with a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt he’d picked up at a thrift shop for pennies. The vibrant cerulean blue made his eyes positively glow. Which reminded him. He grabbed the eyeliner out of his bathroom bag. It was one thing to go without when attending a baseball game, but for a night out in the city, the more glam the better.
He was leaning over the sink when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come on in.” Keeping his gaze fixed on the mirror, he traced the black pencil along his lash line.
The door cracked open, and Connor peered through the gap. “Hey. Do you have any hair gel I can use?”
Graham glanced at Connor from the corner of his eye, and his mouth went dry. Oh yeah, Connor in a tight white tank top was a sight to behold.
“Graham?”
Realizing he was gaping at Connor—and the mirror provided up close and personal proof—Graham lowered the eyeliner. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Hair gel?”
“Oh yeah. Here.” Graham fished in his bag and withdrew the tube.
“Thanks.” Connor dabbed a bit of the sticky stuff in the palm of his hand and raked his fingers through his blond hair.
“Here, let me do that.”
“Huh?”
Graham brushed Connor’s hands aside and used his own. It was strangely intimate, styling someone else’s hair. Maybe that’s why he did it. Torturing himself with thoughts of what he couldn’t have seemed to be Graham’s newest pastime. He tunneled his fingers through Connor’s blond curls, slicking the sides up and back, and spiking the top.
“Hey, that looks great.” Connor twisted his head side to side, checking out the full effect.
“It does.” Graham repacked his bag and grabbed his wallet off the counter. “Ready?”
“I am.” The smile Connor flashed was so wide that his dimples made an appearance. “I don’t think you are, though. You either need to color in the other eye or erase that one.”
Crap. Graham closed his eyes and blew out a breath. He’d only lined one eye. “It’s a new style I’m inventing.”
“I’m not sure the world is ready for your vision.”
“You may be right. I guess I’ll do the standard two-eye makeup look.” He picked up the eyeliner again and leaned toward the mirror to finish up. His hand shook a little, making it take longer than usual. It would have helped if Connor didn’t scrutinize the process as though he’d be tested on it later. With a final swipe of a finger to create the perfect smudge, Graham called it good.
“Now I’m ready. Got your ID?”
Connor patted his pocket. “Got it.”
“Let’s roll.”