I chuckled. “Back then?” Shaking my head, I turned to his date. “Hi, I’m Jasper.”
She offered me a slow smile as her eyes drifted down my body. “I know who you are, honey.” She practically purred as she spoke.
I side-eyed Conner, who seemed oblivious to her reaction to me, so I decided maybe I was reading too much into it. I mean, with everything that had happened over the last few days, I’d come to the conclusion that I was way more socially inept than I realised.
I stepped around them, catching the attention of the barman and ordering myself a beer.
“Been here long?” I asked Conner.
“No, me and Kitty—” She slapped him in the chest.
“Katy, babe. How many times?”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I like Kitty. It suits you.”
She bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Gross,” I mumbled.
He leant in so his date couldn’t hear him. “Is there a reason you’re living like a monk? I mean, you must have women throwing themselves at you all the time.”
I scoffed. “You have no idea how much sex I’m having.”
He tilted his head as he lifted his drink from the bar, taking a sip before whispering, “You wouldn’t be so uptight if you were having it, Jas. You look like someone who could benefit from an orgasm or two.”
I gritted my teeth, trying not to show that I’d had more orgasms in the last week than I’d had in my entire life. I’d fisted my cock so much it was a wonder I didn’t have blisters. I looked at the pretty woman next to Conner, but she did nothing for me. I looked around the busy room, and while I could appreciate the women were pretty, none of them made me think about kissing them or fucking them, or doing anything with them. Which left me wondering—I put the bottle to my lips, refusing to let that thought go any further.
It had been like this for days. I felt like I had something on the tip of my tongue, something that felt so real I could almost taste it, but every time I let my mind try to unpack it, my heart hammered and my chest got so tight I couldn’t breathe.
I’d even called my therapist about it, but because I couldn’t explain my thoughts, she was zero help.
Before I could get myself worked up about it again, Callam appeared. “Hey, Jas. You okay?” he asked. I still couldn’t get over the size of my youngest brother.
I nodded as the music started.
“We need to take our seats. Mum and Jax are meeting us there.”
Downing my beer, I put the bottle down and turned to find my seat. We were a few rows back from the front with the perfect view of the stage.
Jax appeared under the spotlight, dressed in a black tux, his hair styled perfectly. He looked so different from the boy I remembered growing up with. I took him in, trying to remember back to being a teenager, hanging around with him. My memories of that time felt hazy, blurred, but that was to be expected, right? I mean, it was so long ago. Plus, Jackson’s leaving broke my heart. One minute, my best friend was there, and then, he was gone, and I was all alone in the world.
I let out a long breath. That’s what this was—these strange feelings, the urge to touch myself that had appeared out of nowhere and wouldn’t let up. I’d never had a normal male friendship, so I was projecting things—feelings—onto the only two men in my life. I smiled as the reasoning made perfect sense. It was the only thing that had for a while, and I hung onto it like a desperate man clinging to the edge of a cliff.
I turned my attention back to the stage just as Mum sat next to me, squeezing my knee. She looked beautiful in a ruby floor-length dress, her hair styled in large curls.
“Hi,” she whispered, waving to Call and Conner before she turned to watch Jax on stage, a smile spreading across her face as she listened to him welcoming the attendees. Jax had set up his own charity about four years ago when it came out that he’d had testicular cancer as a teenager, and he wanted to help raise awareness. Mum kept me updated on how well the charity was doing, and I knew tonight was a big night for them to bring in more donations. Apparently, some of it was going to help replace a roof on a halfway house for young people who’d been made homeless after they came out. Mum had told me the sad story of the owner who had helped hundreds of kids over the years. He’d ignored a lump and recently died of testicular cancer.
Jax finished his introduction, and it was met with a loud round of applause as he left the stage and a pole lowered from the ceiling, stopping a couple of feet above the floor. The lights dipped low as Billy Eilish’s “What Was I Made For” started playing through the sound system. When the lights lifted again, there was a single spotlight on the pole and a slight man dressed in a sheer black shirt and tight black shorts that clung to his toned thighs.
His hair flopped over his eyes, which were bound by a black blindfold. I was mesmerised, wondering how he was going to dance around the pole if he couldn’t see. I had no idea who this was, although the audience seemed to go wild when they saw him, but soon fell silent when he started to dance.
I’d seen pole dancing before, except I thought the pole was attached to the floor as well as the ceiling, but this was something different entirely. The man took hold of the pole and ran in a circle, making it spin. He moved with it, turning until he was balanced on the tip of his shoeless toes, and then he lifted up, hanging on with one hand, his body arching away, creating a beautiful shape with his spine. He made it look so effortless; like his body weighed nothing.
The music continued, and he grabbed the pole lower down with his other hand, extending his legs and twisting them, the revolution moving the pole with more speed. I leant forward in my chair, unable to take my eyes off him.
The lights were soft, so you could see the movement of his body, but his face remained a mystery. It was honestly one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, and I’d dived some of the most stunning coral in the world.
I swallowed hard, watching him move and turn. There was something about his elegant movements that felt familiar, but I couldn’t imagine ever having met someone who could dance like this and not know it.
