“You want to get Freddie Prinze Juniored?” Vince growled, and what the fuck was that?
“That’s still not what it means,” Paul said. “But I’ll allow it. You can Freddie Prinze Junior me all you want—”
“Ack!” I cried. “Let me go! Let me go.”
“Corey,” Vince said without looking at me. “You might want to leave. I’m about to make out with Mr. Auster.”
“Ooh,” Paul whispered. “Are you, Mr. Auster?”
I managed to escape before things got wet.
I bumped into someone and apologized as I left the table, glancing back in time to see Vince stick his tongue down Paul’s throat.
“Ah, shit,” a squat man said next to me. “Someone got to the chub first. Goddammit.”
He sounded so dejected that I almost felt bad. And then I heard Paul groan and decided that everyone in this goddamn bar could fuck off completely.
I wandered through the crowd, trying to find a familiar face. I saw Charlie first, and he was in the middle of a large group of people. He looked like he was holding court, and all his subjects were enamored of him. I thought about going over but decided to leave him be.
I found Darren and Helena near the bar. Darren was sitting on a stool, and Helena was on his lap, his arms around her waist. Helena was laughing loudly, her head tilted back. Darren was grinning up at her, an expression he seemed to have only with Sandy or Helena. It was… sweet. Or as sweet as the Homo Jock King could be.
I rubbed my chest, that strange twist I’d been feeling more often lately starting to burn. I knew what it was, though I tried hard to ignore it. I didn’t think it was loneliness quite yet, but it was something so close that there might not have been a difference. I was happy for all my friends. They’d found the people they were meant to be with. How many people could actually say that?
Not me, for one.
And I was fine with that, or at least that’s what I told myself. When I’d been with Ty, it’d been fun and sweet, and I loved him. That love had grown into something different—something more, something better—but I thought I knew even then that it was always temporary. And when he’d first told me about Dom, I understood why. First loves are often the hardest to let go of, but Tyson had found who he was supposed to be with.
As had Paul.
And Sandy.
And Darren.
And Vince.
“Jesus,” I mumbled to myself. “Being emo in a leather bar is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
I hadn’t exactly lied when I’d told my family that I was fine with the way things were. I believed that. But I was human, which meant some small part of me I didn’t like to look at closely disagreed. I told myself that if it was meant to happen one day, it would. I was only twenty-three. I had plenty of time to worry about all that shit later.
It was getting harder to believe that.
Helena laughed again at something Darren said, and I smiled to myself before leaving them be.
I decided to get some air. It was starting to feel claustrophobic in the bar. People kept bumping into me, and I was getting irritated.
I made it only a few steps before I stopped in my tracks.
Jeremy.
He was standing near a wall. The new Mr. Leatherman was on one side of him, with the runners-up on the other side. A photographer was in front of them, camera flashing. They were all smiling. Jeremy turned toward the man to his left, the one who had come in second place. He was shorter than Jeremy, but wide and strong. His head was shaved, and even from where I stood, I could see the stars in his eyes as he looked up at Jeremy. His arm was wrapped tightly around Jeremy’s waist, and he tilted his head up to whisper something to Jeremy. Then he lightly bit Jeremy’s earlobe.
Jeremy laughed as the man pulled back. They looked forward again as the camera continued to flash.
Yeah, I really needed to get some air.
I pushed my way through the crowd, my breath rattling in my ears. My chest felt tight, and I was so goddamn full of shit. If I was Ty, I would have told myself to knock it off. If I was Sandy, I would have said that I needed to be honest with myself. I hadn’t been around when Paul and Vince were dancing around each other, but if I had, I would have told Paul to just fucking open his eyes and stop being so goddamn obtuse.
That’s the funny thing about advice: it’s easier to give than it is to take.