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He put on a grin then—and it looked exactly so: like he’d put on a mask. Something she’d said had hurt him, and he didn’t want to show it. “Sex is a great stress reliever, yup.”
Oh. “I didn’t mean I’m only interested in the sex, Jake. I meant that something about you makes me feel ...” She could think of only one word that fit there, so she used it. “Safe.”
He blinked and sat back in his chair, clearly surprised. “You feel safe with me?”
“Yes.” Needing to scoot back from the tip of the limb she was on, she smiled. “I mean, when you’re not bolting away from me like I grew a few extra heads.”
“Sorry, again. Really.” He picked up his glass and had a more reasonable sip of wine. “Can I ask—you’ve talked about being extra stressed before. Can I ask what that’s about? Or am I sticking my nose somewhere you don’t want me to?”
What Petra really wanted to do in this talk was get Jake to tell her what he was afraid of. Why he’d left, and why he’d come back. What she reallydidn’twant to do was talk about her father. But maybe she needed to. Certainly if they tried to be a couple, he’d know all about it soon anyway.
“It’s my dad. He was arrested a couple weeks ago on a DUI. It’s his second in less than two years—”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to go into the whole story tonight—I will, but not tonight. It’s just that his lawyer called today and said the prosecutor won’t talk about a plea bargain without significant jail time.”
“Jail? Or prison?”
The question reminded her that Jake was an outlaw. Nobody else she’d told had made the distinction until she’d made it for them. “We’re hoping for jail. My dad is an overweight, sixty-year-old, retired banker. I think prison could kill him, and I’m not exaggerating.”
“I know you’re not.” He looked down at his empty bread plate. “A few people in my family have done prison time. It’s not easy.”
“Have you?”
He looked up. “Been in prison? No. I got arrested a few times when I was a kid—just troublemaker shit. Spent a night here and there in lockup when my old man was pissed enough to leave me stewing for a few hours. But no, no convictions, no time.” He grinned, and this one was authentically droll. “Not all outlaws get caught, Petra.”
At first, Petra flinched inwardly, thinking of her father. Had Jake meant to draw the connection and call her father an outlaw—and an inept one, at that?
But Dadwasan outlaw, wasn’t he? Not professionally, but not exactly accidentally, either. And he’d gotten caught; that was why he was going to be locked up. Her internal flinch became an internal shudder at the thought.
However, Jake’s expression was droll but not sharp. He hadn’t meant the comparison. He’d spoken only of himself.
So she found a laugh and made it sound as relaxed and real as she could. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to generalize. And I don’t want to talk about this, actually. Can we change the subject?”
“That would be great, yeah.” He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass, then his. “So talk to me about your dancing.”
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~oOo~
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Petra stared at thehuge building before them. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
Her eyes fluttered briefly closed as Jake set his hand at the small of her back. That touch was the strangest thing. Sometimes, when it came from a stranger, it felt like a violation, some rando who thought he had a right to touch her just because he was moving past her. But when someone she knew and liked did it, it was a comfort, a silent confirmation of shared affection. And when someone she was attracted to did it? Foreplay.
He leaned close. “Second thoughts? We can go somewhere else.”
“No, no. I meant what I said at dinner. I like that you’re into this, and if this is where you’re comfortable, then I’m in. Just ... the Dawghouse is not somewhere I’d choose to go on my own.” She’d heard stories about incidents here, but no more than any other similar place, she guessed. No bar with a reputation for recreational violence was a good place for queer people.
But here she was, and she was probably fine, for the same reason she sometimes wasn’t all that fine inqueerspaces. She was bisexual—probably more accurately pansexual, though she thought of herself as bi—and very straight-presenting, especially on the arm of a guy. While she’d never experienced violence at the hands of anyone in the queer community, plenty of snark had been thrown her way. Sarcasm and snark were the most powerful weapons in the LGBTQ+ arsenal, honed almost sharp enough to draw actual blood.
But tonight, she’d blend in. Any discomfort she might feel would likely originate in herself.
And Jake wanted to take her dancing. She wasn’t about to pass that up.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he said.
