The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2)

My skin felt hot and stretched too thin, like I was brittle. I didn’t agree or disagree with him, merely breathed shallowly, wondering where this was heading.

But yes. Part of me thought that.

He didn’t seem to need a response. He brought his hands to either side of my face again, thumbs brushing against my cheeks. Then, just as carefully, he reached up, fingers between the wig and my scalp, tugging on it gently. He unfastened the pins that held it in place, setting them on the vanity behind me. Once it was loose, he pulled it from my head, carefully setting it back behind us. I wanted to admonish him and make sure it was put on the mannequin head I kept for my wigs, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice to say so. He studied me for a moment, eyes searching for something that I wasn’t privy to. It should have been more uncomfortable than it was, being so closely watched. Those blue eyes I knew so well flickered across my face.

He must have found what he was looking for, because he nodded to himself and reached for me again, this time going for the wig cap. He slid it off my head and it fell behind me, almost immediately forgotten.

His hands were in my matted-down hair, fingers rubbing gently over my scalp. I closed my eyes at the sensation, his fingernails dragging deliciously along my skin.

“You think that I want you to be this,” he said quietly. “All the time.”

I chose to believe it was rhetorical, because I didn’t trust myself to speak, unsure of what words would come out or if my voice would break. Because yes. That’s what I thought.

His hands fell away and it took me a moment to open my eyes. His legs pressed against mine and all the other sounds of the club were muted and soft. Someone was warbling along to an old Paula Abdul song and there was the clink of bottles in the bar, but it felt far away from where we were.

Darren opened the packet of wipes, taking one out and setting the rest back on his lap. He gripped my chin with one hand and brought the wipe up with the other, starting at my eyebrows. He used a firm hand, almost like he knew what he was doing, like he’d been doing this for years.

“I remember,” he said as he began to wipe away Helena, “the first time I saw you.”

I did too, something seared into my memory, but it wasn’t about me, right then.

“You were this… fierce thing,” he said, moving the wipe to my left eye, pressing carefully to the eyelid. “Tall and gorgeous and fucking bitchy as all hell.” He set the wipe down behind me and then pulled out another. He started in on the other eye. “And I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything as amazing as you before.”

My throat clicked audibly as I wondered where this was leading to. Because he was talking about Helena, not me.

“You were with Paul,” he continued. “Though I didn’t know who he was at the time. All I wanted to do was find out who you were.”

He finished with my eyes and used another wipe on my cheeks. My lips, though, there wasn’t much lipstick left.

He didn’t say much more until he’d finished. By the time he sat back, my skin felt raw and my heart was tripping all over itself in my chest.

“And then you disappeared,” he said. “But you came back. As her.”

I froze.

He sighed and took my hands in his. “You were Sandy when I first saw you,” he said, squeezing my fingers. “You were Helena when I saw you again.” His eyes darted away. “And you were Sandy when I was an asshole. That was on me, and I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for that.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I don’t care if you’re Helena. I don’t care if you never put on a wig again. I will take anything you’re willing to give me. But just know that it was you I saw first, Sandy. Not her. I don’t need her or whatever division you think exists. I don’t want just part of you. I want all of you.”

“Holy fucking balls,” I breathed. “Who the fuck are you?”

That cocky smirk reappeared. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of another boy, asking you—”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“It sounded good, right?”

“You don’t want just part of me, you want all of me. How is it possible to get a boner from words?”

“What?” he choked out. “I don’t—”

“That shouldn’t even be a real thing, yet here we are. You with your fucking words and me with a goddamned boner. It’s a good thing I untucked before you got here.”

His eyes bulged attractively. In fact, I was finding pretty much everything attractive about him at that moment. Apparently, I had a weakness for men who wiped away my makeup and then told me they wanted me for me. Who would have thought? Surely not I. Especially with those words coming from the Homo Jock King.

“What’s rule ten?” I asked.

He let out a burst of shaky laughter. “Rule ten.”

Feeling more confident, I said, “Vince told me what he thought it was.”