Just as we were getting in the back of the car service, I received a text from Brady.
How’d you do on the assignment?
I kicked ass! Thanks for asking.
How about I buy you some birthday-cake custard to celebrate?
He remembered what kind of custard I ate?
Is custard even allowed, Mr. Nutrition?
Ice cream is always allowed.
I’d loved some, but I’m actually on my way to a club with Jasmine. Want to come? I said it tongue-in-cheek because I knew he would never go for it.
Where to?
Should I even say? And then I thought, what the hell. Neon. On Baker Street.
Never heard of that place.
Of course you haven’t, straight boy. Well, now you have. Gotta run. Have a good night.
“Who were you texting?” Jasmine asked. “You’ve got a goofy smile on your face.”
Shit, I didn’t even know I was grinning. I looked out the window. “Uh, Donovan.”
“Shortstop Donovan?” she asked in an exaggerated tone. “Shortstop Donovan who used you as a teddy bear the other night?”
I shushed her when our driver looked at us in the rearview mirror.
“It’s no big thing.”
“Uh-huh, what did he want?”
“To invite me for custard.” He knew my favorite kind, I wanted to say, but kept my lips sealed. “I told him we were busy and to meet us at the club if he wanted.”
She snorted out a laugh just like I knew she would.
Our car service pulled up in front of the packed club, and I could feel the infectious drumbeat thumping through my veins.
“Let’s go.” I reached for her hand, excited to dance and let loose.
I would meet a gay Donovan of my own tonight.
11
Brady
I kept looking at the text from Kellan. Neon. What the hell was that place?
I pulled out my phone, punched the name in the search engine, and it came up as…a gay club.
I gulped as a little thrill shot through me at the prospect of showing up. Kellan had invited me, though he was probably only kidding, knowing there was no chance I’d step foot inside. Well, that just got my blood pumping. Part challenge, part curiosity, and I couldn’t resist.
Still, once I’d ordered a car service, my stomach practically revolted. I pushed on, changing out of my sweats into jeans and a black T-shirt, and before I could talk myself out of it, my feet started moving toward the door. Fortunately, Hollister and Dawn were in his room, and Maclain was who knew where.
I slid into the back seat, and when the driver asked where I was headed, I gave him the address without having a total meltdown.
Holy shit, I’m really doing this.
I felt self-conscious as I waited in line and got the once-over from the man checking IDs at the door, like I had some stamp on my forehead drawing everyone’s attention: I’m gay, but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
The soles of my feet felt like pins and needles as I stepped inside. Mercifully, it was crowded and loud, so I could blend in better. I straightened my shoulders and trudged forward through the sea of men and women talking, laughing, and embracing.
My face was enflamed as I passed by a couple of men making out, and I smirked briefly, remembering my conversation with Kellan that morning before class.
“I’d want someone who’d hate on them with me.”
Instead, I found myself staring at them a bit too long, never having had the opportunity to see a same-sex couple live and in person. At least not like this, in the throngs of passion. It felt like an enormous boulder was sitting on my chest, like my heart was going to crack open at any minute and a sea of longing would pour out. Fuck, I wanted that for myself someday.
As soon as I made it to an open space against the wall, I could finally breathe. I looked around the club, trying to get my bearings and take in what I was seeing. I’d been to my share of bars—well, straight bars—but this…this was surreal. Being here in a crowd of mostly men touching each other openly and wearing all manner of clothing, some more sparkly than others, made my chest feel funny. Like it was comfortable. Familiar. Like something inside me had clicked into place. Not that a club with loud, thumping music was in any way homey. But it felt safe. Like I could finally just be if I were brave enough. And…stopped pretending I was straight. At least while I was inside these four walls.
The idea that I didn’t have to hide my reaction or pretend I wasn’t staring was overwhelming. As were the openly flirty looks being lobbed in my direction. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes, which threw me into a tailspin as I braced my shoulder against the wall.
Calm down, Donovan. It’s your first gay bar. Big deal.