Chapter Six
Irving
I pulled the last couple of cushions off the couch, throwing them to the ground.
Nowhere. My wallet was fucking nowhere to be found.
“Arrrghhhh!” I let out a weird Charlie-Brown noise as I kicked the desk, then hopped around for a while holding my hurt foot. I headed over to my stereo system, flipping the Nuclear Rot record to the front again and turning it up. Plopping down on the couch, I considered jerking off for the third time that day, but I pulled out my phone instead.
Zero missed calls.
Calling Karis more than twice without getting a reply would be excessive, and I had too much pride for that, anyway.
Or at least I used to have too much pride. I couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than having some ridiculously hot man decide I wasn’t worth the blowjob when we were only a half an inch from the starting line. Whatever dignity I had left was damaged at best and possibly about to get another beating on top of it all.
Hi. I’m the guy you picked up and then rejected last night. Did I leave my wallet here?
Brick probably had no idea what that excursion into the supply room meant to me, but it was a big deal. It took all the guts I could muster. Standing alone at the bar, the band thrashing in front of me, I could have easily just left. I could have trusted my fear instead of some sexy stranger. But I had put myself out there instead, and paid the price for it, too.
The record reached the part where it was basically just drums and screaming for five minutes. Across the room, my computer called to me. Both of my monitors were positioned in front of my ridiculously comfortable desk chair, and there was a little fridge stocked with coconut water and cold gummy bears. Instead of going to retrieve the wallet, I could just slide into the desk chair and open up a project or log onto one of my games. Sure, I’d lose some cash, and it would take a while to get all my credit cards and IDs replaced, but would it really be that bad?
Would it really suck more than talking to Brick again? I couldn’t believe I had let myself fall into that trap. It was just that he kept talking to me andflirtingwith me. I wasn’t even into guys like him, but there was something about his scent, and the way he loomed over me, and the cocky way he spread his legs in my direction at the bar.
A guy like that, thinking a guy like me was hot? Trying to pick me up?
I almost believed it myself.
I stood up and snatched my keys from the desk, cursing under my breath again. I flipped off the record player, then gave myself a quick look in front of the hallway mirror. My hair was combed, my teeth clean, and I had on my favorite pair of denim shorts, the ones Karis said made my butt look like a crystal ball she wanted to rub.
Time to face the music, I though.Har har.
* * *
“Hey Brick, your date from last night is here!”
The woman with the green hair winked at me, and my cheeks started burning. It was the middle of the afternoon, and without even the speakers on, the place felt bare and exposed. I headed straight to the bar, hoping I could maybe retrieve the wallet from her before Brick appeared. “I think I left my wallet here last night. Has anyone turned one in?”
She had on a snug white tank, and I could see how strong her arms were as she dried the glasses. “If you lost it here, sweetheart, I doubt anyone who found it would have handed it over.”
Damn.
A door creaked in the back, and Brick walked out.
I grabbed the edge of the bar and felt my mouth clamp shut. His eyes bore into me as he sauntered across the room, a toothpick between his lips. I told my heart to stop pounding so loudly and did my best not to stare at the floor.
“I think I left my wallet here.”
Brick leaned on the counter, seeming to consider what I said. I remembered the expression on his face the night before, glaring down at me with this wrenched, torn look in his eyes. He looked like he was disappointed, or maybe hurt. Either way, I knew it wasn’t how you were supposed to look when you were about to get a blowjob.
He rubbed a hand across his chin, fingering the stubble that was on the verge of becoming a beard. “Could be in the back.”
Brick turned and headed toward the back of the bar, and I stared at his hips and the way the firm muscles of his ass swung side to side. When I turned back to the bartender, she jerked her head after him, and I realized I was supposed to follow.
When I caught up, he already had the door to the supply room open. He had materialized a small flashlight from somewhere and had it guided straight at my wallet, lying on the hard floor like a forgotten piece of trash.
I scurried past him and scooped up the wallet, glancing inside and letting out a sigh of relief when I saw all the cards still there. When I looked up, Brick was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw working the toothpick.
Staring up at him, I remembered the feel of his denim and the musky scent that had filled my nose. I was thrown back into that experience, and just like the night before, I had an overwhelming desire to feel his hands on the back of my head.
