"Do you want a beer, Jake?" Edward shouts, leaning close to my ear so I can hear him over the thump thump thump of the bass in this club. I nod enthusiastically, and he fist bumps me before pushing through the crowd, moving in the direction of the bar.
I watch him disappear, gliding easily between sweaty, grinding men who try to get him to stop and dance. Edward's never bothered when he gets attention in gay clubs. Sometimes he stops to dance before politely moving on, other times he just flashes them a grin and keeps walking. He's never been one of those straight guys that gets freaked out by attention from another man-but then again, nothing really phases him. I would kill for a fraction of the confidence that Edward Cullen has.
When I can't see his wavy bronze hair bobbing through the crowd anymore, I start dancing again. The music is so loud that I can feel every note reverberating in my bones, the beat changing the rhythm of my pulse to match. I lift my arms over my head, close my eyes, and move my hips to the rhythm.
Someone wraps an arm around my waist, spins me around to dance with him, and I open my eyes. He's a nice-looking guy, handsome enough, but not really my type-he's wearing a leather vest, for Christ's sake. I smile politely and dance with him, keeping my distance so he won't get too interested. I look over his shoulder, scanning the crowd, and my eyes immediately lock on a familiar figure. Paul.
I spin around quickly, hoping to escape him, and push my way towards the bar. I think I hear Leather Vest Guy calling after me, but it's impossible to tell when the music is so invasive. Thankfully there's a door between this part of the club and the lounge area; you can still hear the music when you're at the bar, but it's also possible to hold a conversation.
I find Edward at the bar, leaning against the counter with a twenty in his hand. He always says that's the secret to getting great service at a bar; pay with cash, have it ready, tip well. I think it helps that he's fucking gorgeous and flirts like a two-dollar hooker with every bartender in town.
He smiles when I tap him on the shoulder. "It'll just be a sec, I should be next," he says, nodding towards the bartender working his way down the row. When he turns to look at me, his eyes widen when he registers the panic on my face. "What's wrong, J?"
"Paul," I explain, jerking my head towards the dance floor. Edward straightens up, looking over my shoulder to the doors I just came through.
"Did he say anything to you?" he seethes, his jaw set in anger. Edward was there for me when I was dating Paul, talked me through all of the drama of our relationship, kept me from losing my shit when I walked into Paul's apartment and found him going down on his ex-boyfriend. Paul was never interested in my life or my friends, and he never even bothered to come over and meet my roommate, my closest friend.
Edward was the one who helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart. He was probably more pissed about Paul hurting me than I was.
"No, no, I don't even know if he saw me," I tell him, although I'm almost sure we locked eyes for a second. I lay my palm flat on Edward's chest to keep him from charging past me.
"Motherfucker," Edward says, shaking his head. The bartender snaps his fingers, trying to get Edward's attention now that it's his turn in line. He leans over the bar to order, and I catch the guy in line next to us staring at his ass. I can't blame him; Edward's ass is perfect. It's out of this fucking world.
I'm feeling kind of possessive of his ass, though. I know he's not my boyfriend-I know he'll never belong to me-but I don't want any other men looking at him. I take a step closer, blocking the other guy's view.
When Edward straightens up and turns around, I'm too close. We're nose to nose. He just smiles, hands me a beer, and jerks his head toward an empty table. "Let's sit," he suggests, pushing me backwards.
We claim the table and take a minute to look around. Well, Edward looks around. I watch the door to the club area, waiting for Paul to come through.
"Do you wanna leave?" Edward asks, leaning closer so we can talk.
"No, man," I answer, shaking my head vehemently. "I'm not gonna let him drive me from somewhere I wanna be. Fuck him," I insist, taking a long pull from my beer.
"Fucking A!" Edward says, holding his bottle up to clink with mine. Just as I tilt my head back to take another sip, I spot Paul walking to the bar. He's craning his neck, looking around, and I just know he's looking for me.
Edward notices my sudden tension, the way I'm purposefully staring down at the bottle in my hands. "Is that him? That asshole?" he asks, shifting in his seat.
"Yeah, but listen, let's just leave him alone. Unless he comes over to talk to me or something. Let's just ignore him, okay?" I implore, resting my hand on Edward's forearm. "He probably just wants attention." I notice that Edward's wearing a fitted button down, and the cuffs are rolled up just enough for me to see the bluish veins on his wrist through his pale skin. I'm struck with the urge to kiss them.
"He's not coming over here but he's fucking staring at you. Just let me go like, punch him in the kidney. Or accidentally break his nose. C'mon, Jake, he deserves it." Edward's smiling, one eyebrow raised in jest, but I know without a doubt that he'd do it for me if I asked him to.
"No, I don't want to hurt him. I just want to ignore him. I just wish..." I trail off, shaking my head mid-sentence. "Nevermind," I add.
"What do you wish?" Edward asks, his red lips wrapping around the mouth of his beer bottle again. I groan at the sight of them, the million fantasies I've had about kissing him flashing before my eyes.
"I wish I wasn't alone," I tell him simply, shrugging my shoulders. I wish Paul could see me happy, loved, and being adored by someone. Preferably someone much hotter than him.
"What am I, chopped liver?" Edward asks, his eyes sparkling playfully.
"No, no, that's not what I meant, E. I just meant that I was here with someone. A date. To make him... jealous," I admit. I pick at the edge of the label in front of me, peeling it back from the brown glass.
"We can make that happen," Edward says confidently, and I start to protest. I don't want him running around trying to hook me up, playing wingman, introducing me to strange guys. I don't feel up to meeting people right now.
But when I look up at Edward, he's much closer than he was a second ago. He's scooted his chair closer to mine, so our thighs are almost pressed together. He leans into me and brushes his fingers over my cheekbone, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Is this alright?" he murmurs. "I only know how to flirt with girls." He lets his fingers settle on my bicep, squeezing it gently before dropping his hand to rest it on top of mine.
"Y-y-y-yeah," I answer, wincing at the sound of my own voice. I'm so obviously flustered by such a small thing, such an innocent touch. "Yeah. Is he, uh, still looking?" I ask, my eyes trained on Edward's hand. Edward is practically holding my fucking hand.
"Yeah," he says. He leans in slowly, resting his head on my shoulder, and I feel his warm breath on my neck. He nuzzles me there a little, moving his head around, and then I hear him ask, "Does it look like I'm kissing your neck?"
Truthfully, I have no fucking idea what it looks like, but it feels amazing. I can feel his lips brushing against my skin when he talks, and my cock is getting so hard so fast that I'm worried it's gonna rip through my pants.
"I... I think so," I tell him. I glance up at Paul, to make sure he's still looking, and find him leaning against the bar. He's definitely watching us, and he's definitely pissed. I can't help the smile that spreads over my face. I let my right hand drift up and into Edward's hair, twisting it through the soft strands like I've fantasized about so many times.
Abruptly, Paul slams back the rest of the drink in his hands and stomps back into the club.
"Is he still watching?" Edward asks, and I consider lying. I consider holding him tightly against me, breathing him in, keeping him close to me for as long as he'll let me.
"No, he went back in," I answer, dropping my hand as Edward lifts his head. He lifts his beer bottle to his lips and downs the rest of it in one long, sexy gulp. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and I wonder if he'd look like that with my dick in his mouth. If he'd swallow around the head, and let me rest my fingers on his throat just to feel that little piece of cartilege move beneath them.
"Come on, let's go," he says, slamming the bottle back on the table. I'm not finished with my beer yet, but Edward is grabbing my hand, yanking me up, pulling me behind him. I'm grateful that it's so dark in here, that he can't see my erection tenting my pants.
He shoves the door to the dance club open and pulls me through, tugs my arm forward to wrap around his waist, and forces me to walk closely behind him. The music is still pounding, a different techno beat but still the same thump, thump, thump that I'm used to.
We weave through the crowd, looking for a place to dance. Edward finds one, close to where Paul is grinding on some twink, and he spins me around so I'm in front of him. I'm a little bit taller than Edward, just an inch or two, and I probably have thirty pounds on him... but he's so clearly in charge here. He positions me just how he wants me, with his arm wrapped around my waist, and starts moving with me to the beat.
I keep one eye on Paul, and I know he's still watching us. He's getting aggressive with the twink, pushing him forward and grinding into his ass with more force. The kid seems to be eating it up, but I have the urge to tell him to stay away from Paul. To save him from the drama that I went through.
Edward notices Paul stepping up his game, and he spins me around to face him. He starts to pull me close again, but I take a small step back. I'm trying to keep his hips from grinding into mine, because I know he's going to feel my hard-on. I don't want to freak him out, and I sure as hell don't want him to stop dancing with me.
He's saying something, his lips are moving, but I can't make out the words. I watch the multicolored lights from the ceiling flicker over his face, turning his pale skin blue, purple, red. He's still talking, trying to tell me something, but it's impossible to hear.
Finally he gives up, reaches down to my waist, and pulls me tightly against him. I gasp when my dick comes into contact his his body, straining to get to him through the layers of cloth between us. Edward looks into my eyes and tilts his head softly. This time, when he speaks, I know exactly what he's saying: "It's okay."
The acceptance, the affection in his eyes makes me tear up. I drop my head to his shoulder, hoping he didn't see, and try to get a grip. He doesn't love you, Jacob. Not like that.
Edward's just being a friend, helping me out. Helping me stick it to the ex that never deserved me in the first place. I wrap my arms around Edward, feel him slip his thigh between my legs, and start moving against him. He feels so fucking good against my dick that I have to think about girls to keep me from getting too excited.
I lift my head a little, just enough so that I can see Paul. He's kissing on that twink now, but the kid seems bored and not at all into it. He shrugs Paul off, twists away from him, and moves to dance with someone else. Paul tries to follow, but quickly gets the hint that he's not wanted any longer. He stands there alone for just a minute, not dancing, just watching me with Edward as the crowd moves around him.
I feel Edward's hand trail down to my ass, feel him squeeze the flesh there, and thankfully the music masks my loud moan. I'm sure Paul can see how Edward is touching me. I hope he can see my face, too, twisted in pleasure as Edward grinds against me.
Paul storms out, heading back to the bar area, and I don't care if he's leaving the club or just leaving the room. I feel lighter now, knowing that I have more power over him than he has over me.
I should probably pull away, let Edward know Paul is gone. I can't do it, though, can't peel my body away from his. I feel his lips brush against my neck and every part of me shudders with want.
Edward must've felt it, because he pulls back and spins me around. He wraps his arm around my waist again and crushes me against him without losing the rhythm. I feel his cheek against my shoulder, his fingers digging into my hip, and something... something pressing against my ass. Maybe it's just the seam of his jeans, the line of his fly pressing up against the roundness of my ass cheek.
Except it wasn't there before. It's harder, thicker, too insistent to be just his fly.
My brain is still scrambling to explain it away-maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Maybe I'm missing something.
And then he thrusts his hips against me, pulls me tight against his chest, and I stop trying to explain it away. I close my eyes and give into the feeling. I let myself think about what could happen if we keep dancing like this all night. If we keep drinking, and dancing, and grinding against each other. If we stumble home like this, sloppy drunk and horny and hard. If he lets me pull him into my bedroom.
Then the song changes. It's more of the same techno crap, but it's a slower, thudding beat. It's enough of a change to jolt Edward out of the rhythm we've been in. He pulls away, leaves some distance between us, and I wince at the loss of his warmth. I turn around slowly, almost afraid to face him. He doesn't look angry or freaked out though, he's just looking around the dance floor. He raises an eyebrow in question, silently asking me about Paul.
I jerk my head towards the door, indicating that he left. Edward holds his thumb up and then turns it down, alternating between the two, and I understand that he's asking if our little show was successful. I give him a thumbs up in return, and he grins. He offers up his fist for me to bump, and I do my best to return his enthusiasm.
We only stay for another half an hour or so, dancing with a lot more space between us, before we're both sick of the crowds, the long line for drinks, the punishing beat of the music. By the time I'm driving us home, my erection has mostly gone down. It feels just like a normal night, but I still have a tiny sliver of hope that maybe something more will happen when we get back to the apartment. Edward fiddles with his phone during the fifteen minute ride home, and hops out of my car as soon as I pull it into my parking space.
"I'm uh, gonna take off," he says, gesturing toward his Volvo.
"Oh?" I ask, confused. It's almost one, and I didn't think he wanted to go to another bar.
"Yeah," he says, winking and holding up his cell phone. "Gonna stop by Kate's. She's always up for a booty call, you know what I mean?" There's a sharp pain in my chest, knowing that he's going to be working off all of the night's sexual tension with some skanky girl instead of me. I pull myself together pretty quickly though, and give him a fake smile.
"Have fun," I tell him, turning to walk into the building. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do," I call out over my shoulder, registering his quiet chuckle as he unlocks the Volvo. I keep my head high, my shoulders squared, until I'm safely in the apartment. Until I can let myself fall apart a little, let myself mourn for the pieces of Edward that will never be mine.
A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews last time! I was blown away. What did you think of this chapter? Do you think E is just a tease or is there something more going on?
Reviewers will get a teaser for chapter 3. See you Tuesday!