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Until one cold rainy day last September, when I realized I was no longer hanging on to her…
But hanging on because of him.
6
WILL FOSTER
White strobe lightsspear the dark night club, converging on the center of the dance floor.
Upbeat music blares from the speakers, the heavy reverb vibrating my chest, and making it feel like the floor is shaking.
Next to me, Waylon folds his arms over the banister separating us from the dance floor, eyes narrowed thoughtfully on some unseen spot in the crowd. I follow his gaze to where a couple dudes grind up against each other, making out.
My lip ticks up as I’m suddenly thrown back to a night similar to this one, only instead of rainbows, it was skeletons and black and orange streamers, and I was very much on a mission to get drunk off my ass so I could forget about the guy at my side.
Except that’s not what happened.
As if prompted by my trip down memory lane, the lights dim briefly to a soft shade of blue. It doesn’t ripple like it did that night so many months ago, giving the impression we were underwater.
No, instead this time its flashes and swinging rays of light, pulsing with the beat of the music.
Still, in my mind’s eye, it’s water I see, and in my head, it’s a softer, slower, gentler song playing out as the world seems to come to a standstill. Confetti explodes from somewhere in the dark rafters above, just like that night, only this time it’s metallic, catching on the changing colors of light.
A hand brushes my arm and I turn, my heart thumping at the soft, knowing smile gracing Waylon’s face. Like that night, he wears a feather boa, but this one is rainbow, where last time it was pink.
And just like then, he leans forward, putting us nose to nose. Chest to chest.
Feathers tickle my skin, skating across a hard nipple. His boa or mine, I have no idea.
I suck in a breath. It’s dark, but still, we’re in public.
“You thinking what I am?” he says loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the night club.
Swallowing tightly, I gaze steadily back at him and nod.
His lip curves up, the divot in his cheek sinking in deeply.Fuck. Me.
His eyes flare with heat.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when he bridges the gap between us, cupping my cheeks, and slotting his lips against mine. In a darkened night club—one smack-dab in the middle of the gayest block in Philly—it’s easy to lose yourself to the anonymity. Easy to forget what exists outside of these walls. Easy to just feel andbe.
His mouth tastes sweet like the cranberry seltzer Ivy got him earlier. I swipe my tongue out, unable to keep myself from wanting more. Always more.
He hums, and I feel it reverberate in my chest, not unlike the music pulsing around us.
My hands find his waist and I tug him closer to me. He’s hard in his jeans, and I shift, pressing our lengths right up against each other. His blunt fingers dig into my scalp, guiding my head where he wants it so he can have better access to my lips.
Our teeth clack. Our tongues tangle. His nose piercing digs into my cheek.
All too soon, our kiss slows, until we’re nothing more than grazing, featherlight touches and shared puffs of breaths.
Using his firm hold on my hair, he tugs my head back, peering up at me with hooded eyes. His tongue pokes out, swiping over his full, spit-slick lip. I catch a wink of metal and my grip on his waist tightens.
God, I love his piercings.
He smirks at me knowingly. “You think they’ll care if we dip out early?”
I cast a glance toward the bar where Jeremy throws back a shot. Next to him, Ivy sips on a bottle of water. She’s only nineteen, and while she does have a fake, she decided not to use it tonight. She wears a purple wristband, indicating she’s underage.
