Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

Ross gives me a pained look and I feel like shit. I probably should have told him about the fake date with Mitch. Most likely, Ross now believes I’m fucking my employee.

Talbot huffs in exasperation. “You know damn well they aren’t going to take ‘no comment’ for an answer, Walker. This little stunt of yours might cost us.”

I stand up and lean on the table, crowding into my boss’ space. “We make more money for you than any other artist on your label, Talbot. Take your greed and shove it. I’m not hiding anymore. Fuck them if they don’t buy our album because I’m gay. Fuck anyone who doesn’t like it. I’ve hidden for ten years and I’m not doing it for one more minute!”

With more confidence than I feel, I shove off the table and walk away. If I stay, I’ll do something I’ll regret. Like punch Talbot Putnam in his soon to be imperfect Roman nose.

I’m halfway to the front door, ready to call a cab so I can escape everything and everyone—Mitch, a stalker, the crowd, Talbot Putnam—when I hear a familiar voice.

“Gavin?”

I whirl around to see Adam’s wife who also happens to be one of my best friends. “Hi, Ellie.” She leans in and wraps her comforting arms around my neck. I return the embrace, confused. “What’s this for?”

Ellie releases me and steps back. “You looked like you could use a hug, that’s all.” She offers me one of her brilliant smiles.

I give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Love you, El.”

“Love you too, Gav. Smile. You’re too gorgeous to mope around,” she chastises, pinching my cheek. Her lilting British accent always makes me feel better.

Despite my shitty mood, I can’t help but grin at her teasing.

“Now,” she chuckles, “where’s that hunky fake date of yours? I want to have a chat with him.” Ellie stands on her toes, trying to find Mitch in the thick crowd.

My skin heats up in humiliation from his disappearance, and possibly from the memory of Mitch manhandling me in the bathroom.

“I-I’m not sure,” I stammer. “Listen, El. I’m taking off. Tell the guys I’ll see them later.”

Her beautiful face crumples. Feeling like a jerk, I duck out before she can ask any more questions about me or Mitch or my miserable attitude.

The dark sidewalk outside the club is quiet. Only a few people are walking around, none of them on my side of the street. Perfect. Now to find a cab.

“Hey!”

My mind cringes at the sound of Mitch’s voice, but my body? Yeah, it has something else in mind. My heart pounds inside my chest as blood races south.

Always stubborn and more than a little mortified after Mitch blew me off, I put my back to him and hold out a hand to flag down a cab.

“I know you don’t think you’re calling for a taxi,” Mitch scoffs.

His heavy footsteps echo across the pavement. No silent ninja moves tonight. I continue to ignore him. If I turn around, I’ll lose it. We’ll end up fighting or kissing, and fuck…I’d take either one or both right now, but not on a public street. Not outside the launch party for the band’s album. I’ve done enough damage for one night.

“Fuck off, Hale.”

“I don’t think so. You’re coming with me,” he insists.

Incensed by his bossiness, especially after he crossed a very fine line tonight, I whirl around with every intention of handing him his ass.

“Don’t even think it,” he hisses when he sees me ready to attack. His angry expression dissolves, leaving one of concern. “Come on, I’ve got the car.”

Baffled, I let down my guard. “Car? We left the car at the label and came in the limo.”

Mitch smiles, avoiding my gaze by staring at his feet. “I sent someone to get it. I kind of figured you’d want to leave.” He shrugs.

I watch as his rugged, stubble-covered cheeks turn crimson. Holy shit he’s adorable. I’m pissed as hell, but he still manages to charm me.

“Fine,” I agree. “Where is it?”

Mitch jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Just down the block.”