Guyliner Page 13

  It was fun, hanging out with Connor and Liam, dancing and talking, people watching. All that stuff that people did at clubs. Graham made a point of snapping a handful of pictures with his cell phone, catching a smiling Connor and a beaming Liam. Graham was impressed. After the first fish-out-of-water moment at the beginning of the night, Connor hadn’t freaked out or looked uncomfortable. Not even when guys came up to dance—or grind, depending—with him. If someone was particularly insistent, Connor would move away and dance closer with Liam. Most guys got the hint.

  It was all Graham could do to keep from snarling at each and every person who approached Connor.

  After an hour or so, Graham made his way back from the bathroom, with a brief stop at the bar, approaching Connor and Liam from behind. He heard Liam asking Connor, “Why aren’t you dancing with Graham?”

  “We’re not really together. Just friends.”

  “So when he said you were taken, he wasn’t talking about himself?”

  “Nope, like you, he was protecting me from the corrupters.”

  Liam cocked his head to one side. “Still doesn’t explain why you aren’t dancing with him.” Graham wished he could see Connor’s face.

  Connor shrugged. “Our town isn’t exactly the best place to meet gay people. He deserves a chance to meet someone special. He can’t do that if I’m attached to his hip all night.”

  Liam met Graham’s eyes over Connor’s shoulder. He at least knew Graham was there. “I don’t think he’s looking for someone right now.”

  Connor shrugged. “I don’t want to get in the way, that’s all.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

  Uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed, Graham slapped Connor on the back. “Here’s your water.”

  “I was supposed to get the next round,” Connor complained, though he opened the bottle and drank deeply.

  “I was there. It was easier.” Graham passed a bottle to Liam as well.

  “Hey, thanks. I’m dying of thirst.”

  When they’d all drained their water, Liam took the empty bottles to a recycling bin and then continued on the way to the restroom. Connor, who’d apparently morphed into a dancing fiend, continued to move with the music. His skin gleamed with sweat and his hair had given up any pretense of style. It made Graham want to wrap the almost-curls around his fingers. Connor stopped dancing to catch his breath as the song ended.

  “Thanks for this,” he said, leaning close. “Seriously, I’m having a great time. This whole experience, this whole day, has been amazing.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Ooh, I love this song.” Liam darted back, grabbing Connor’s arm as the first strains of the new track burst through the speakers. It was the equivalent of a slow song by club standards. Instead of the frenetic energy of most of the songs they’d heard during the night, this one had a low, pulsing beat interspersed with a soaring melody, blended into a sexy music mix, perfect for getting up close and personal with a partner. Liam spun around and backed into Connor. He manipulated Connor’s arms so that Connor was gripping Liam’s waist above the silver shorts and below the abbreviated hem of the mesh shirt. Liam’s own arms reached up over his head to grip behind Connor’s neck.

  Graham looked for an excuse to leave the dance floor, but deserting Connor seemed wrong. Not that Connor would notice. Not with the way Liam draped over him. He wouldn’t be able to stand there watching Connor and Liam moving together like that for long. Not without doing something stupid like ripping Connor free of the smaller guy. He’d almost convinced himself to walk away when strong arms reached around him, settling on his own leather-clad hips. He whirled around, arms coming up protectively. He relaxed when Peter winked at him.

  “You look like you need some help.”

  Deciding that dancing with Peter was better than walking away in a jealous tantrum, Graham turned back and settled into him. They were the same height, so instead of wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck like Liam had with Connor, Graham covered Peter’s hands where they held him. The club’s fog machines kicked in, sending pale smoke billowing around the dance floor.

  Graham looked up from the artificial white clouds to see Connor’s hazel eyes blazing into him. There was such intensity, such need in them that Graham couldn’t look away. The people around them faded until it was only the four of them moving to the music, bodies dipping and rocking in tandem.

  One of Peter’s hands started to crawl along Graham’s waist, crossing his stomach until he nearly embraced Graham. He didn’t care about Peter’s touch, but he was convinced that he could feel the prickling trail of Connor’s eyes as he watched the path of Peter’s fingers.

  “It’s working.” Peter leaned in, speaking low enough that no one else could hear him.

  Graham tilted his head to the side, without moving his eyes from Connor. “What do you mean?”

  “You know the phrase ‘if looks could kill’?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, if your boyfriend loses it, I expect you to keep him from hitting me.”

  Peter pulled Graham tighter against him and guided Graham’s hands back until his palms rested on the outer thighs of Peter’s designer jeans. A storm was brewing across Connor’s face with Peter’s every murmured comment and deliberate movement.

  “Ten… nine… eight….” Peter accentuated each count with a roving hand. A glide across Graham’s ribs. A caress up his side.

  “What are you doing?” Graham demanded.

  “Counting down. By the time I reach one—” Peter didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

  In a split second, Connor pulled himself from Liam’s hold and surged across the small space between them. He wrenched Graham forward, out of Peter’s arms, and slammed his mouth onto Graham’s.

  “Yes!” Graham dimly heard Liam whooping behind Connor. All of his attention was on Connor and the fact that Connor was kissing him. Connor was kissing him! There, in the middle of two hundred people and surrounded by flashing lights and throbbing music, Connor—who had a girlfriend, who said he was straight, who… was kissing him.

  Connor jerked back, his breathing ragged. “Oh my God!” he said between pants, face pale.

  Graham didn’t even think. He circled Connor’s neck and dragged him close for another kiss.

  “It’s about time,” Liam said, breaking into the moment. “The sexual tension in here was out of control.”

  Connor jumped, then Liam spun out of reach with Connor’s phone. “What the—” Connor began, but Liam shushed him with a wave of a hand. Liam hit a few buttons and returned the phone to Connor. “I’ve got to go now, but it’s been a blast. Call me, ’kay?” He blew kisses to Graham and Connor and then escaped through the crowd.

  Chapter 20

  THE MIDNIGHT darkness settled around them, creating a sense of calm and quiet that didn’t match their surroundings. The air smelled like rain and car exhaust and the occasional whiff of garlic from some nearby restaurant. Though city traffic still rushed along the streets and pedestrians moved along the sidewalk, the sight and sounds of them were somehow muffled, dreamlike. Walking down the street hand in hand with someone wasn’t a new experience for Connor. It wasn’t something that he and Allyson did often, but it happened. Walking down the street hand in hand with Graham was another thing entirely. Like the rest of the evening, the walk back to the hotel was surreal.

  And since whatever filters he usually had between his brain and mouth seemed to be absent, Connor told Graham.

  “Surreal, huh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Graham cocked his head in question.

  “I think it depends on tomorrow.”

  Graham’s hand tightened marginally in his and the giddy feelings Connor had experienced surrounded by the music and dancing and Graham started to fade. Connor’s steps slowed; he wanted to prolong the return to reality as much as pos
sible.

  “How so?” Graham matched his steps to Connor’s.

  “It’s like Cinderella, you know? The ball was a blast and all, but now it’s midnight and things are going to return to normal. On Monday I’ll go to classes and baseball practice. Go home, do my homework, see Allyson, the same as usual. Nothing will have changed.”

  Graham gazed across the street, where a small group of people sat at a circular table drinking coffee, and pulled his hand away from Connor, tucking a thumb into the waistband of his leather pants. “Should something have changed?”

  “Of course. I’ve confirmed something pretty major about myself, something that doesn’t fit in my life plan.” Connor’s hands fisted at his sides. “It’s like I’ve become someone I don’t know.”

  “You’re still you. Nothing that happened this weekend is going to change who you are.”

  “It feels bigger than that, somehow. I can’t… I have too much going on right now, too many expectations on me, to deal with it.” Connor folded his arms across his chest as if that would control the unfamiliar anxiety.

  “Deal with what?”

  Connor glared at Graham. “You know. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “I do. But you need to be able to say it.”

  “Why? What difference does it make? It won’t change anything. I won’t let it change anything.”

  “Because you should be able to at least be honest with yourself. I’ve been where you are. I tried to deny it. I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself I was straight, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself feel straight. Admitting I was gay was the best and worst thing I ever did. The uncertainty, the paranoia, it was getting to me. Now I have to deal with a bunch of narrow-minded assholes and sometimes worse, but I refuse to be ashamed of who I am anymore, and I refuse to hide it. Look,” Graham said, coming to a halt in front of their hotel, “I’m not telling you to announce it to the world or make a spectacle of yourself. I’m not telling you to come out to friends and family. That’s a choice that everyone should make for themselves. But I can tell you from personal experience it’s a lot less painful to at least admit it to yourself.”

  “I’m not like you and Liam. I don’t think I could be that open, that secure in myself.”

  “You were tonight,” Graham countered. “In the club you had fun. You didn’t care what others thought about you. You did what you wanted and had a good time.”

  “Sure, here, where nobody knows me. Where nobody’s going to go running to my dad and catch him up on all the crazy details. Where I can be someone else and nobody will judge me. And it was fantastic. But that’s here in this very colorful, chaotic, surreal world.”

  “It’s Chicago, not a newly discovered planet.”

  “It might as well be a different planet. It’s just as distant, just as far out of reach. My world consists of the Green Valley town limits and the people who live within the borders. At least until college. Maybe then….”

  A couple in fancy evening wear walked around them to enter the hotel. “We should go in,” Graham said.

  “You go ahead.” Connor pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, rubbing at the tension that settled there. “I’ll be up in a minute. I’ve got to think.”

  “Look, you can tell me to back off. It’s none of my business. Seeing you like that tonight, being with you like that tonight, I enjoyed it.”

  “I get it, I do. I’m not mad at you, not really.”

  “Then come inside. It’s not a good idea to run around the city in the middle of the night.”

  “I’ll only be a minute, but I need some time to clear my head.”

  “Okay, but seriously, don’t take too long.”

  Connor watched Graham wheel through the revolving door of the hotel before walking over to a large cement planter. He leaned against it and squeezed his eyes shut. He was so very, very screwed.

  PACING IN a hotel room was not very satisfying. No matter how fancy or roomy the place was, there wasn’t enough room for Graham to work through the things in his head. Even as he recognized this, he made another turn around the corner of one of the queen-size beds. Four steps, turn, two steps, turn. Repeat.

  He took a second to text his parents, letting them know they were back from the club. They’d start to worry if they didn’t hear from him. They didn’t fight him on going out—at least not much—but they demanded regular check-ins. After what he’d put them through in St. Louis, it was the least he could do. It took him a whole five seconds and wasn’t nearly enough to distract him from his thoughts.

  “Argh!” He flopped back on the bed. “You had to push, didn’t you, Parker. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  Connor was a great person. Probably the hardest working, most responsible person he’d ever met. It didn’t hurt that he was hot as hell too. He’d tried to suppress the hope that Connor might be gay. It hadn’t worked. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, each time something happened, it ignited the flame of hope. But like a candle, the more the hope grew, the faster the wax—the tangible reality—melted away, leaving nothing behind.

  Graham knew all about the confusion and fear that Connor felt. He’d gone through it himself. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. A sudden horrifying thought crossed his mind. Had he been projecting? Had he somehow pushed Connor into the night’s events?

  “You really are an idiot.” He dug up a pillow and covered his face with the starched white mass. “Being gay isn’t contagious. He didn’t catch it.”

  Graham looked at the clock. It was after two in the morning. If Connor didn’t get back soon, he’d have to go out searching for him.

  He didn’t like how helpless he felt waiting for Connor’s return, so he decided to do something productive. Like getting ready for bed. He stripped down and had barely pulled his flannel pajama bottoms up when he heard the electric lock on the door beep. Connor walked in.

  He looked vulnerable and lost. “Graham?” he said, his mouth quivering.

  Long-sleeved T-shirt in hand, Graham moved toward the door. “Yeah?”

  “I’m gay.”

  Graham’s eyes stung at the quiet desolation in Connor’s voice. “I know.”

  Connor moved slowly, like an old man with sore joints. He sat on the end of the bed, open and vulnerable.

  “I’m scared.”

  Graham sat next to Connor. He placed his hand gently on Connor’s shoulder. “I know.”

  Connor crumpled, completely deflated. He buried his head in the hollow of Graham’s neck and shoulder, and his body shook with silent sobs. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t be gay.”

  Graham pulled Connor against him, holding him tightly and rocking softly while making soothing sounds. Nothing he said would help, not really. Simply being there was the most positive thing he could do at the moment.

  After a few minutes, Connor relaxed, the tears subsiding. Still Graham held him, waiting for Connor to pull away. Eventually Connor did. He sat back and broke the contact but stayed close to Graham’s side. Connor’s eyes widened when he looked down.

  “Jesus. What happened?” Connor reached out, tracing the ragged edge of scarring on Graham’s chest.

  Surging to his feet, Graham snatched his shirt off the bed and yanked it on. “Nothing we need to talk about. Not tonight.”

  “Someday, though?” Connor’s words slurred with fatigue. A night of dancing and an emotional upheaval could do that to a guy.

  “Someday,” Graham agreed.

  Connor reached down and pulled off his shoes and lay back on the bed. It looked as though he intended to sleep in his clothes.

  Graham moved to the other bed and pulled back the covers, replacing the pillow he’d unearthed before.

  “Graham?” Connor’s voice was hesitant and still held that note of vulnerability that made Graham want to go out and punch someone.

  He didn’t turn around. It was better—safer—if he kept his distance.

  “C
ould you… would you sleep with me? I don’t mean, you know, sleep with me. I mean, sleep here, with me? I….”

  Graham squeezed his eyes shut. Torture. This was pure torture.

  “Never mind,” Connor began and Graham heard him shifting on the bed.

  “No, wait. I mean, it’s fine.”

  He lay down gingerly, staying on top of the satiny comforter, afraid a quick movement would cause Connor to jolt or panic. He rested on his back, hands tucked under his head. Connor shifted to his side and looked at Graham. His eyes were soft when he reached over and traced a rough finger across Graham’s cheek. “Your eyeliner smeared.”

  “I’ll get it tomorrow.” Graham stared at the ceiling, trying to relax.

  “Okay.” Connor yawned and closed his eyes. Graham reached across him and turned off the lamp, enclosing the room in darkness.

  “It’s hot,” Connor murmured. Graham was about to offer to adjust the thermostat when Connor spoke again. “First thing I noticed about you. Sexy. Eyeliner Boy is hot, I told myself. Then I bashed my face.” Connor’s breathing deepened, ushering him into sleep.

  It took Graham much, much longer before he, too, drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  AN UNFAMILIAR beeping pierced the fog of Connor’s sleep. Had his brothers changed the ringtone on his phone again? If they did, it wasn’t as atrocious as their normal choices. Connor didn’t want to open his eyes. His lids were heavy and a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. And that stupid beeping wouldn’t stop. Connor tried to bury his head in his pillow, but instead of squishy fabric, his forehead rubbed against something warm and firm. The pillow that wasn’t a pillow shifted, and the annoying noise finally ceased.

  Connor forced his eyes open, squinting against the light that filled the room. A swatch of red fabric came into focus. The scent he associated with Graham, fruity hair product and something green, like grass, infused his senses, and the hard warmth under his cheek registered. He levered himself up and looked down at a bleary-eyed Graham.