Good Boys Don't

But it didn’t matter, since he always made up his own songs in his head, and the more in tune with music he was, the less he needed to focus on motion, sinking deeper into his mind instead. He dreamed of unknown freedoms, of hot skin, of the fragrant summer air. Of heat, of touch, of the sun kissing his face.

He would forge his own path, and his parents, no matter how much he loved them, would either accept it or not. But whatever was to happen, his heart was full of hope.

When he opened his eyes, finishing the song, his brain froze, unsure what it was registering. He met an intense gaze focused on him, the man like a hawk about to strike. Not far away, beyond the small crowd of girls, the biker who’d almost killed Nate in front of the hotel was staring at him in a way no other man had before.

The intensity of this moment made Nate’s heart drum faster, and he couldn’t bear to look away from the handsome face. The man’s chin was peppered with stubble, his skin tan, but it was his hair that drew Nate’s attention. His own was only a few inches long, because his parents didn’t allow him to grow it out, but this guy? The stranger’s hair, slightly tousled after the bike ride, reached all the way to his studded belt, a glorious cascade of dark waves Nate itched to put his hands on.

Dressed in black, wearing several rings and a necklace with a metal crow skull, he was like a rock god who’d stepped out of a guest appearance in a music video to swipe Nate off his feet—and possibly kill him. Nate caught himself staring and was about to avert his eyes, pretend their gazes meeting had been accidental, but the stranger kept watching him, as if out of all the things and people in the hotel, Nate was the most interesting object.

Wait.

It wasn’t just pure interest. There was something else in that dark gaze, an intense heat that was already licking Nate’s back with its fire.

Was this gaydar?

Was this it? Was Nate being checked out by a guy who looked like the embodiment of his fantasies?

He snapped out of the trance when Paula leaned down to him and whispered, “What a creeper. He’s been standing there forever. You should go and tell him he should mind his own business. He must be like twenty-five. He’s making us uncomfortable.”

Nate’s legs were unwilling to cooperate. “Uh, you think so?” he asked, even though this, at least, provided him with an excuse to talk to the mysterious stranger.

“He’s exactly the kind of man Reverend Allen told us to watch out for. He’s one step from Satan.”

Nate swallowed and approached lust personified. The guy didn’t avert his gaze, and instead, his full lips quirked in… invitation? A challenge?

Nate squeezed the guitar, which he kept at the front of his body, as if it were his shield. He was halfway across the empty space between the man and the girls when he realized how stupid it must’ve looked, but it was too late to put the instrument back in the case. He trudged on until he was face to face with the tall man in leather, too flustered to speak. Then again, what was his original reason for coming over? He couldn’t remember.

The man wasn’t at all startled, and he smiled in a way that made Nate’s world collapse in on itself. Why weren’t they kissing yet? He’d give anything to kiss those lips and press his fingers against the stubble.

“Nice voice. Too bad it’s wasted on Jesus.” The man winked, and Nate wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. Was this for real? The biker had a raspy undertone to his voice, and something about that quality flustered Nate.

He wasn’t sure what to say at first, slightly paranoid that this could be a trap, and that his reaction was being watched and recorded. But no Christian person would have said what the man just had, so Nate decided to be bold too. “Oh.”

That wasn’t bold at all. Captivated by the brown gaze, he was a mouse too terrified to run from the cat, and would end up as his plaything. “So you weren’t… spying on the girls?”

When the man cocked his head, his long hair slid over his shoulder. He remained casual and smirked, as if he didn’t know he presented a most glorious sight. “What girls?”

He was gorgeous. Had the firmest jaw line, the darkest stubble, and the sexiest smile under a large yet somehow graceful nose. If Satan were to ascend the Earth to tempt people into his arms, this was the form he’d take. “Were you… listening to me then?” Nate asked, burning with an explosive mixture of shame and hope.