He tugged at the kilt's hem again, catching the flash of black nail polish and not for the first time hoping he'd be able to get it all off before practice on Monday.
Logan didn't know how he felt, dressing like this, showing off his body. Oz wasn't wrong; Logan's football uniform didn't leave much to the imagination. But that was different. For one, he was used to wearing it. And what's more, he knew plenty of girls —women,he corrected himself — were watching him in it, and that was pretty hot.
Here at a club called 'The Body Shop', however? Logan doubted most of the women would give him a second look, if they even bothered with the first. No, Oz had dressed Logan for othermen. A thought that made Logan nervous, certainly. But also?
He swallowed. Sure, Logan would tell anyone who asked that he was straight. But after the past few months of Oz tutoring him in a rather eye-opening range of extracurricular lessonsbeyondmerely the material Logan needed to pass his classes? Let's just say, Logan had learned a lot. And tonight he was learning that, as weird and uncomfortable as his clothing was? It… It turned him on, a little. Not only because of the way it made Logan look — though there was that too — but also the idea of letting Oz dress him like this. Of wearing whatever Oz told him to wear. Letting Oz pick out what he should do, and when he should do it, and how?
They'd barely arrived at the club, and already Logan had quite a lot to process.
Later, he assured himself, even as Oz said, "Let's go."
There was an excited note in Oz's voice, a squaring of his shoulders that was new and unfamiliar. It made him look taller, more confident.
It made him lookgood.
"Right." Logan nodded, dazed, happy to follow Oz's lead. He tried to ignore how the hand Oz had dropped on Logan's lower back to guide him, both calmed and stirred up the butterflies rioting through Logan's belly in equal measure.
Oz flashed a smile at Logan, broad and beaming. Logan did his best to return it, but managed only a weak little grin.
He didn't understand it. He'd never felt this out of place, not even that second week of school when Noah and Trevor had convinced him to go streaking with them across campus. In hindsight, that'd been an incredibly stupid move. Ifthathad been in Coach's file when he'd hauled Logan into his office, or if someone had called the cops…? Forget the prank on the soccer team with the chickens. That might've been enough to get Logan kicked out on his very naked ass. But this… Technically, he was fully clothed. So why was he so nervous?
Logan let himself be steered towards the brightly lit entrance of the club, a pounding bass pouring out of the front doors every time they opened. He could help but notice Oz was dressed comparatively normal. He'd worn a tight black band shirt and dark skinny jeans, sure. But it could read punk rock as much as 'headed to pick up guys at the gay bar'. Definitely nothing as obvious as what he'd told Logan to wear.
But the funny thing was? As out of place as Logan felt, he wasn't certain he'd ever seen Oz more relaxed. There was even a strut in his step as Oz marched them onward, clearly in his element.
Just how long has Oz been going to gay bars? What else about him don't I know?
The line outside the club was ridiculous, but the bouncer took one glance at Logan, raised an eyebrow, and waved them in.
"See, hot stuff?" Oz grinned, elbowing him as they made for the door. "Didn't I say you looked good?"
Logan's ears burned as he followed Oz into the dark, the pounding bass thumping against his chest, making him feel it in his bones.
"Oz, I don't know that I should be here —"
"Shh. It's okay, Logan. No one's going to ask to check your gay card. Besides, you're with me," Oz said with a wink like that meant something, before grabbing Logan's hand and dragging him towards the bar. "Hey, can we get a couple of shots?"
"How long do we have to stay here?" Logan hissed, trying to ignore the way Oz was standing, flashing two fingers as he leaned over the bar with his shirt riding up over his hip. It showed off a patch of skin that Logan was pretty certain he'd touched and licked and even come on more than a few times. Yet here, in the strobing dimness of the club, it held a wholly new allure.
Logan wet his lips, trying again. "I'm just not sure I'm going to be —"
"Patience." Oz's eyes glittered in the low light, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as the bartender slid two shot glasses their way. "Drink up, buttercup. I want you loose enough to enjoy yourself when we hit the dance floor."
"When we what?" Logan asked, alarmed, as Oz pushed a glass into his hands. "I'm not dancing, okay? I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea that — that I should be here, or anything."
"That you're gonna come your brains out buried balls deep in my throat when we get back tonight, you mean? Sure, Logan. No problem. I can be gay enough for the both of us." Oz winked, then downed his shot.
Logan stared at his. It wasn't that he didn't drink — very much the opposite, actually — but the prospect of getting wasted around so many queer men was intimidating. He knew how straight guys were when they were drunk. Hell, he knew howhewas when he was drunk. The idea of being on the receiving end of that?
It made him nine kinds of nervous, but… Honestly, Logan didn't know if he wasn't a little turned on by the possibility, too.Notsomething he could wrap his head around, not on top of everything else tonight.
That was fine. He could just take it slow. Order a water, or something with a decent amount of ice…
"Again!" Oz ordered, shoving another shot glass into Logan's hand.
Okay, or that.
Logan took a deep breath, and downed it as he looked around. The music was the bone-vibrating sort of loud, and the flashing lights made the sea of bodies on the dance floor a confusing, colorful blur.
