Page 37 of Fish Out of Water

Robbie was still sitting at the bar when Jake returned, talking to some guy in a mesh tank top. He had his back turned to the door and hadn’t noticed Jake yet, but the way he shifted, the way his fingers tightened around his half-drunk glass, Jake could tell he was uncomfortable.

Before Jake could approach him, someone grabbed his arm and swept him onto the dance floor. He was dancing with another man in the blink of an eye, the rush of adrenaline hitting him like a train.

Bright, colorful lights flashed above him; a mirror ball spun reflections around in a dizzy mosaic of squares. Someone, maybe the man who pulled him in, maybe someone else, ground against him. It was sheer, uninhibited fun.

And then he looked up.

Robbie had noticed him now, and the expression on his face was one of pure pain. Something sparked in Jake’s chest. A slow smile spread across his lips. He nodded to Robbie, still staring, and turned around, sliding his hand up the stranger’s chest. He couldn’t see Robbie anymore, but he didn’t need to.

He pressed his lips to the other man’s, kissing hard. The man bit back, making Jake’s lips sting with the sudden pain. It wasan invitation, and before that invitation was revoked for a better offer, Jake slipped his tongue into the man’s mouth.

He tasted like gin and vermouth, mixed with a slight tinge of salt and chemical cherry from his chapstick. He wasn’t a great kisser, per se, but Jake could hardly be picky now. It wasn’t as if he was doing this for pleasure.

He twisted on the dance floor, still making out, till he caught sight of Robbie out of the corner of his eye. He was still watching, glass lifted to his lips, but not drinking. His knuckles were white, and his big blue eyes were dull.

It had worked.

Jake stopped dancing, pulling away from the man who still tried clinging to him. It had worked, so why didn’t he feel triumphant? For a moment he stared back at Robbie, trying to figure out why it didn’t feel good. Why? Why would he want Robbie, of all people, to be jealous of him? What had gotten into him?

Robbie’s expression shifted minutely, his eyes brightening, and he finally took another sip of his drink. They watched each other from across the room, Jake studying Robbie as long as it took to figure out if he was annoyed with him now, or confused, or…

The man sitting next to Robbie said something before laughing at his own statement. He reached out and touched Robbie’s arm. Robbie tensed, and Jake knew what he had to do. Jake’s misery might have been compounding by the minute, but Robbie didn’t need to be unnecessarily miserable too if he could help it.

“Hey,” he called when he was halfway to them. “What’s up, man?” He sauntered up to Robbie and patted him on the back like an old friend.

“Oh, you two…” The man who was talking to Robbie got up from the stool.

“Best friends,” Jake said. “Actually, a little more than that.” He laughed, and Robbie forced a queasy laugh, too. It was enough to drive the other man away, allowing Jake to take the seat that he’d just been in. “Mm. Still warm.”

“You’re back.” Robbie was not smiling, not even artificially, anymore.

“Yeah, I came back.”

“What happened to your friend?”

“I left him at his place.”

Robbie furrowed his brow. “Nothing bad happened, right?”

“No.” Jake stiffened. “No, not at all. Actually, you seemed to be having a worse time than I was.”

“Then… why?”

“I—” Jake shook his head. “Forget it. It just didn’t work out, okay?”

“Okay, okay. And the guy on the dance floor didn’t work out either?”

Jake wiped his mouth to remove the residue of the man’s chapstick still coating his lips. “Nope.”

“Lower your standards, Jake. Not everyone wants to stick it in you out here, as tough a pill as that may be for you to swallow.”

“What makes you think that’s what I even want?” Jake puffed out his chest. “If I did, I could’ve had it by now.”

“Great. Go have an existential crisis about being a slut somewhere else, then.I’mtrying to have a good time here, even ifyou’renot.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Jesus, that’s what I get for trying to be nice.”

“You’re not trying to be nice,” Robbie countered. “You’re trying to get on my nerves—again.”