Out in the Offense (Out in College 3)

For a kid who grew up in a conservative area in Orange County, LA always felt like another planet. It was an hour away by car but light years away in every other respect. And West Hollywood was a whole other universe. It was gay wonderland. Every restaurant, bistro, boutique, bar, and club seemed to sparkle with gay glitter dust. Sometimes literally. Same-sex couples held hands and kissed in public. And drag queens and go-go boys drew as much attention as A-list celebrities.

Typical LA artifice ruled. Everyone was freaking gorgeous and seemingly well-versed in fashion trends and who was in and who was not. The judgy factor intimidated the hell out of me. I hadn’t braved this neighborhood in years. I wasn’t a celebrity quarterback by any means, but Chilton had a decent LGBTQ population for a small school. There was always a chance someone might notice me.

I glanced up at the Vibes neon sign from my place in the long line and bit my lip nervously. I hadn’t thought to ask if this was a gay club. Fuck. I felt so uncomfortable in the electric blue mesh top Max borrowed for me from his boyfriend’s closet.

He’d shaken his head in dismay when I emerged from my room earlier wearing a striped button-down shirt. “You can’t go like that. You look like a preppy dork from the OC.”

“I am a preppy dork from the OC.” I held the wispy piece of fabric up and frowned. “Is this Sky’s?”

“Yeah, but he won’t mind,” Max assured me.

“Bullshit. He’ll gouge my eyes out.”

Max snorted, then inclined his head in agreement. “Okay, well maybe, but he’s out of town visiting his family anyway.”

“Did your invitation get lost?”

“Permanently lost. They don’t like me. Can you believe it?” Max yanked my jacket out of my hands and tossed it over his shoulder. “You don’t need that. What are you gonna do, tie it around your waist on the dance floor?”

“It’s cold outside,” I protested.

“You won’t have time to get cold. You’ll be dancing.”

An hour and a half later, I was freezing my ass off while Max flirted with a pretty-boy dressed in pink in the line outside the club.

“He’s hot,” he whispered as we shuffled forward.

I nodded absently while I scanned messages on my cell. I wondered if Rory was inside. Free drinks or not, I honestly couldn’t picture him here at all. I thought about texting him and suggesting that we meet somewhere else, but then, maybe this was a test of some kind. Yeah, I kissed him, but I hadn’t actually come out to him in real words.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. It was your idea to come here, and I personally think it’s one of your better ones,” Max said, flashing a sultry smile at the cutie behind me.

“I don’t know. It might be a mistake. You have a boyfriend and—”

“And he’s out having fun too. I’m sure he’ll send me a video later of some random dude sucking him off.”

“Ugh. You two are so weird,” I groused, canvasing the sidewalk for familiar-looking faces.

“Maybe, but…you’ve gotta relax, man. No one we know is here. No one recognizes you. You aren’t that important. Just enjoy, Chrissy,” Max advised, pulling me toward the entrance.

“I fucking hate it when you call me that.”

“You fucking love it.”

An hour later, I loved everything and everyone. I was mildly tipsy, but by no means drunk. I figured one of us should stay somewhat sober, so I sipped my second margarita while I scanned the bar area for Rory and tried to figure out which bartender was his brother. The three men manning the bar didn’t look anything like him. One was a sexy pretty-boy who might have been a model, the other was tall and skinny and covered in tats, and the third was Latino with longish brown hair and an edgy urban-cowboy look. Maybe his brother wasn’t working tonight, but I wouldn’t know until I asked. Or until Rory got here. If he was coming.

It was fine either way. The longer I was here, the more I liked it. The electric energy in the club had a life-affirming, liberating vibe. I felt my shoulders relax as I swayed to the music while watching sexy men writhe and kiss or just talk with their hands on each other’s hips. I didn’t feel like an outsider. I belonged here, I mused, setting my glass on the bar.

I flinched when someone wrapped his strong arms around my chest from behind. I bit Max’s forearm and chuckled when he yelped. He scowled, then leaned across me to place his order.

“Want a refill?” he asked.

“No, thanks. Where’s your new friend?”

“Over there.” He inclined his head in the general direction of the dance floor and grinned. “Where’s your friend?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he changed his mind.”