“Because he’s—oh. Wait. Right. Riiiight. Okay. Okay. I see where you’re going with this. That’s just. I don’t. Um. Just.” I’m pretty sure my synapses were misfiring. And my nipples were hard. I didn’t know how those two things were related but that they had to be since they were both happening at the same time. I felt aroused and confused. It was like I was twelve again and standing in front of the men’s underwear section at Kmart, looking at the headless torsos on the Hanes packages and wondering why I was getting sweaty.
“Are you sure he hasn’t kidnapped you?” Paul asked, starting to get suspicious again.
“Yeah,” I said, my brain slightly scrambled from the thought of kissing Darren Mayne. “Sure. I think you’d look lovely in a toga at my taco party next Easter. You know what they say, Togas for Jesus will always please us.”
“Oh no,” Paul whispered. “I broke you.”
I WENT into the restroom as Mamma Mia! Meryl Streep. I came out as The River Wild Meryl. That’s the one where Kevin Bacon was an evil douchebag and tried to ruin the Streep family rafting trip and Meryl got all badass and killed him. Or something. I hadn’t seen that movie in a really long time, I just knew that Meryl was badass in it and I was badass now, therefore I was The River Wild Meryl. This Meryl would never allow twinkie waiter trash to get up on her man right in front of her. In fact, this Meryl would probably have his balls for the main course if he even tried such a thing. I wished I was wearing river-rafting clothes, but then I realized I didn’t own any, so I was going to have to make do with what I had on.
Besides, if Meryl Streep could eat a waiter’s balls for dinner, then so could I. It didn’t matter what we wore.
Helena was happy with the threat of violence.
Santiago was at the table, almost in Darren’s lap. Vince looked annoyed. Corey looked murderous. Darren looked uncomfortable, craning his neck back looking toward us. The moment he saw me, his eyes softened and there was something there. Something that looked like relief. Like he knew what was coming.
I couldn’t let him down.
He was my fake boyfriend.
Helena was displeased with the twink. She loved them, because twinks could be wonderful.
But sometimes, certain twinks needed to be taught their place.
Santiago wasn’t even paying attention to me as we came back to the table, fixated on Darren, telling him some story about blah, blah, blah, his hands on Darren’s, tugging at his fingers, looking all wide-eyed and innocent, even though we could all see the slut simmering just underneath the facade.
“Darren,” I said, my voice huskier than normal. “Is everything all right?” I walked behind him, my fingers trailing along his shoulders and the back of his neck. He shuddered minutely, but enough for me to catch it.
“Fine.” He glanced over at me as I stood above him. “Where’d you—”
“Santiago,” I said. “A little word of advice, if I may.”
“Advice,” he repeated. “From you.”
“Yes. From me.”
“No offense,” he said with a grimace. “But I don’t need advice from you. Darren, as I was—”
I snapped my hand out and held his jaw, turning his face toward me. The grip was tight enough that he couldn’t pull away easily, but not so tight that I’d bruise his pretty skin. Not yet, anyway. “It’s only polite to listen when your betters are speaking, little chicken. Are you going to listen?” He nodded as my thumb brushed along his jaw. “Good, baby doll. That was the right answer. Now. As I was saying. A bit of advice for you. You’re gorgeous. You’re young. You probably can come five or six times in a single night. You look like you don’t even have to pluck your eyebrows, and that’s nice. That’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, one day, that’s all going to fade and you are going to be left with nothing but a shriveled dick, a raging case of herpes, and a unibrow that will threaten to eat your face. And that’s okay too. It happens to the best of us. Though, in your case, it’ll probably be sweet karmic justice for all the shit you’ve pulled. So you can fuck your way through life all you want. I’m not
here to judge you in that regard. If that makes you happy, then by all means. As long as you are safe about it, I won’t cast a stone at you.” My grip tightened. His skin dimpled. “However, if you ever put your hands on Vince again, I will come back for you. You don’t want that. If you ever talk shit about Paul again, I will come back for you. You really don’t want that. And if you ever touch my boyfriend again without explicit consent, I will break every one of your fingers until the bones poke through your skin. Then I’ll break them again. Are we clear on that, baby doll? Do we have an understanding?”
He tried to speak, but my grip wouldn’t let him.
“Just a simple yes or no will do.”
He nodded.
“Good,” I said. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his cheek. “I’m glad we could have this little chat. Now, find our table another waiter and I don’t want to see you again for the rest of the night. If Paul and Vince should decide to come back here, you will not serve them. In fact, you will not even have any contact with them.” I let him go. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to.”
I turned and reached back, fisting the back of Darren’s head, pulling his head back. He swallowed thickly, eyes dark. I didn’t even think twice about it when I pressed my lips against his. His mouth was hot against mine as I worked him over, swallowing his groan as my tongue brushed against his lips. I thought to push it deeper, but I didn’t, even when I felt his hand come up and hold my thigh, anchoring me in place as he strained for more, trying to open his mouth to let me in. This wasn’t real. It was an act. This whole thing was fake. It was—
Shit.
It was the best goddamn kiss I’d ever had.
I pulled back.
His lips were wet.