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Okay, I was getting nervous again. “I won’t say anything.”
“Please don’t.”
“I swear, Holt. I won’t tell anyone.” Mainly because I didn’t want to get my pinky fingers chopped off or have Seb kicking my door in at three in the morning.
Holt exhaled slowly and relaxed back in his seat. “Thank you.”
“I really need to get to work.” When I stood, Holt shot up from his seat, then had to grab the edge of the desk to keep from toppling straight back over.
He was wearing sweatpants under his untucked shirt and suit jacket. My mouth twitched.
“If you ever need a favour in return…” He rounded the desk slowly and shakily to walk me to the door, and I saw there were hot pink slippers on his feet. “You know, in exchange for your… discretion. About the whole thing. You did promise to keep it a secret,” he added a little sharply.
I bobbed my head, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, I didn’t actually promise.”
He went still, then narrowed his normal—but still super pretty—brown eyes at me. “Dude.”
“Okay, I promise.” I hesitated, recalling the surreal fever dream that had been last night. It was, honestly, the most fun I’d had in years. Way more fun than anything I’d ever done with Marcus. “So… now that I know about the exclusive wrestling club, can I, um, come back?”
Holt stared at me in shock. “You want to… come back?”
I shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t even get to see any of the wrestling. And you said it’s a bunch of oiled-up beefcakes in skimpy panties. Obviously I wanna see that.”
I really wanted to see the nipple tassel guy.
Holt fidgeted a little, scrubbing at his face and smearing the remnants of black eyeshadow down his cheek. “Fuck. Taylor… I really shouldn’t.”
“Oh.” I hunched in on myself a little, feeling like a total loser. Of course he didn’t want me there. I was the guy he’d mistaken for his “sad office worker” stripper. I knew about his uneven testicles. “Okay. Sure. Sorry.”
“No,” he rushed out, “it’s not that I wouldn’t want you there, it’s just… the clientele is of a particular… type.”
“Totally. I get it.” At least the fresh humiliation was temporarily making me forget that I felt like death warmed over. “Well, anyway, maybe I’ll see you—”
“No, wait,” he blurted, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe we can… watch a couple of the matches tonight from my private viewing box. The, uh, the crowd can get a little… wild.”
Well now it just felt like a pity-invite. I shook my head and immediately regretted it. “Seriously, Holt, don’t worry. I can just… watch wrestling on TV or something.”
“No, I want you to come.” He reached out and gripped my arm, then immediately let go and cleared his throat. “It’s just… the wrestlers are all, um, pretty passionate about their costumes. They go all out. Like, really go all out. Some, uh… animatronic tails and stuff…”
“Really?” That sounded freaking awesome. Now I didn’t overly care if it was a pity-invite. I wanted to see it. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure…”
“Totally.” He smiled at me, but still looked a little tense. “It just might look a little… weird at first. But they’re just… really great actors. I’ll put you on the list for tonight.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I grinned, and after a second, Holt’s smile softened and grew wider. “Maybe no rum tonight, though.”
He grimaced. “Definitely fucking not.”
“Will you, um…” I fiddled with the strap of my backpack self-consciously. “Will you be in your cosplay stuff again?”
He went still, watching me. My face flamed red, which made my head throb with a fresh wave of pain. I saw his throat bob.
“Did you like it?” he asked eventually, his husky voice growing a little deeper.
My skin got even hotter. “I mean, y-yeah, I liked it. It was… cool.”
“Then yes.” He flashed me a wide grin, one that reminded me of those sultry smiles he’d given me when he thought I was his stripper for the night. My belly tightened.
“Okay. Great. Um, so I’ll… I’ll see you later.”
