The smell of burning wood draws me to the edge of the house. I peer around the corner to see a fire blazing in the back with people decked in leather or some form of goth gear standing around it, laughing and talking.
“You wanna head to the back yard first?” Torren asks.
“No, why don’t—” I’m rendered speechless when my eyes land on Torren. The moon has cast a reddish glow over his rugged features, and the highlights of his jet-black hair have an orangish hue. He’s standing closely, and I can smell his pine-scented cologne and cigarette smoke. His jacket is unzipped, revealing a black tank cut so low it exposes his strong chest, which looks delicious under the moonlight, and he stares at me with a level of openness I rarely see from him.
It’s the look in his eyes that hits me hardest—like he genuinely cares about what I want to do. “No, let’s head inside first. I want to see everything,” I reply, trying not to convey how emotional I’m suddenly getting.
Get it together, Felix.
We ascend the porch stairs, and the guys drinking and smoking greet Torren with affection. Torren’s arm wraps around my shoulder as he greets them and introduces me. “This is Felix. He’s a good friend.”
We went from friends to good friends. Progress.
One of the guys approaches me and offers his hand, but Torren pulls me closer to him. The guy backs off for a moment, looking a little nervous. After a beat, I reach out to shake his hand because it would be rude not to.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Torren removes his arm, and I catch him rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes meet mine, and he looks at me apologetically. There’s no stopping the smile on my face. Torren got possessive, realized he was being that way,backed off, and is silently apologizing for being possessive.
My heart might explode. He’s trying so hard not to make this romantic, and he keeps having the opposite effect.
I reach out my hand, and he instinctively takes it, his body visibly relaxing when we’re connected once more. He gives me a little smile, that sheepish demeanor still present, and it dawns on me that we had a whole fucking conversation without saying a single word.
“We’re gonna head inside,” he says to the guys, who have all been standing there observing this interaction.
Torren motions his head to the entrance, and, together, we enter the bar.
The music nearly knocks me over. This isnotyour average bar. The place is packed. Scantily clad men and women gyrate on poles, a crowd hovers around the bar, and a band is setting up on stage. People are doing lines of coke out in the open, and I’m pretty sure the guy and girl in the corner are doing more than just making out.
Torren moves closer to my ear and shouts, “Is this okay?”
This place is so Torren that I can’t help but love it. “Absolutely,” I shout back.
He leads me to the bar, and the sea of people parts as they notice us. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows Torren, and they all nod and greet him like he’s a movie star. I’m not a stranger to this kind of adulation, being the son of a politician, but it hits a little differently when it’s an entire motorcycle gang that’s practically bowing for the man you’re with.
I won’t lie—it’s hot as fuck.
We make our way to the bar, and the bartender drops everything to take our orders.
“Just a soda with a splash of whiskey,” Torren calls out. “I’mdriving tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I assure him.
“Yes, I do. One of us has to drive us back, and I doubt you can handle my bike.”
He’s right, but I’m still offended. “How do you know? Maybe I’m a natural!”
Torren laughs again, the sound making me giddy, and says, “Maybe you’re right, but it’s really okay. I wantyouto have fun tonight.”
I smile, trying to look nonchalant while I order a vodka soda, but that was such a sweet thing to say, and I’mswooning.
Torren leans in and whispers, “You’re blushing.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
I touch my face and feel how hot it is. “Shut up.”
“Hey, this is karmic rebalancing. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was when that lady gave you her number?”
