“We’ll be right up!” I yell back. I turn to Brock, my face burning, and whisper, “Please put yourself away!”
“Relax.” He takes his sweet-ass time tucking himself back in and buttoning his jeans. “You were enjoying yourself, weren’t you?” He zips up, then crouches in front of me, picking up the coasters I knocked over. “No need to be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” I say, frantically brushing dust off my knees. “I just don’t want to get caught in my work cellar with a dick in my mouth.”
“Fair enough.” He stacks the coasters and puts them back in their box. “You okay? That shelf got you pretty good.” His thumb brushes my temple.
The urge to lean into that touch is so strong it scares me. Instead, I flinch away. “I’m fine.”
When we get upstairs, Roxy’s standing there with her arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
“Jesus. Second time tonight you disappear.” She looks from my flushed face to Brock’s calm one. Her eyes narrow. “Why do you both look so sweaty?”
“Kegs are heavy,” I say, starting to flip chairs onto tables. “And sticky.”
Her eyes drop to the wet spot on my shirt. “I see that.” Something flickers behind her eyes before she turns to the last few stragglers nursing their drinks. “Alright, guys, we’re closing up. Time to head out.”
There’s the usual grumbling, the slow gathering of jackets and phones. She herds them toward the door with practiced ease, all smiles and charm, until the last one shuffles out and she locks the door behind them.
She turns to Brock, hip cocked, that look on her face that means she’s still not entirely given up. “You sticking around to help clean up, or are you heading out?”
“I should probably get going,” Brock says, pulling on his jacket. “Night was fun, though.”
I’m wiping down the bar, but I can feel his eyes on me. My skin prickles. I want to look up, tell him that yeah, it was more than fun, ask for his number, say I want to see him again. But the words won’t come. Same old Calvin, the guy who ghosts aftera hookup, the one who never knows what to say when it actually matters. All I manage is, “Later, man.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Roxy says.
I don’t turn around. I listen to the jingle of the lock, the heavy thud of the door, their muffled voices on the other side. My knuckles are white around the bar rag. I keep scrubbing a spot that’s already clean.
A minute later, she’s back, the lock clicking behind her. “He’s a piece of work, that one.” She grabs a tray and starts collecting glasses. “You know, for a moment I thought he was more interested in you than me. The way he kept looking at you.” She laughs. “Imagine that.”
And just like that, I realize what a complete idiot I am. What the fuck am I doing? Why did I just let him walk out of here?
I drop the rag and bolt for the door without a word to Roxy, throwing myself out into the cold night air.
The street’s empty, except for a couple lost in their own little world. I scan left, then right, heart hammering. I cross the street, looking down the block, then the other way. Nothing. He’s gone.
My shoulders slump. Of course he’s gone. I let him walk out without a single word to suggest I wanted to see him again. Why would he wait around? I sent him mixed signals all night. One minute I’m dragging him into the cellar to suck his dick, the next I’m shoving him away and acting like I’m ashamed. He probably thinks I’m a headcase.
I kick a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the pavement. The cold seeps through my thin shirt. I feel hollow. Empty. I’ve been chasing a high for years, hooking up and moving on without a second thought, and the one time I actually feel something, the one time I actually want more, I’m too chickenshit to go for it.
I’m about to go back inside and face Roxy’s questions when I hear it—a low chuckle from the alleyway next to the bar.
“Looking for someone?”
I spin around. Brock’s leaning against the brick wall, half-hidden in shadow, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. That small smile on his face. Like he knew I’d come.
“You didn’t leave.”
“We have some unfinished business.” His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower. “Figured I should stick around to see how it ends.”
I close the distance between us in two steps and back him up against the brick wall.
The first touch of his lips is like a lit match to gasoline.
Everything catches fire all at once. I kiss him with everything I have, hands coming up to cup his jaw. He’s surprised for half a second, then he’s kissing me back just as hard, hands gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. I can feel exactly how unfinished our business is, pressing hard against my hip.
We stumble sideways, back against the opposite wall, mouths fused, teeth clicking, a frantic, messy tangle of lips and tongues. I’ve never been kissed like this. With such hunger. Such aggression. Like he’s trying to crawl inside my skin.
