The Hots (mxm)

57. Rock Stars and Old Friends (Alec)

   I am furious. Not only does this idiot act like nothing odd has ever happened between him and Sam, but he also uses every opportunity to rub their long-time friendship in my face.

   I understand that they grew up together and have a lot in common, as well as many shared memories. However, this does not make him a lesser dickhead.

   I am so done with his constant attempts to point out that I have no experience in sex and Sam needs someone more outgoing. He better not judge the book by its cover. I will prove him wrong. No, I have already proved him wrong. My Teddy Bear thinks I am hot. Actually, I think I am hot. I might have been self-conscious before, but now I am sure I am damn sexy for my boyfriend. Mr. Pretty Snake does not lie.

   I pout and pull Sam by the hand. I do not like it when that ass walks next to him, as if glued to his arm, constantly whispering something in his ear. What does he have to tell him so secretly? He is doing it only to piss me off for sure.

   I know Sam has found himself between a rock and a hard place, trying not to make a scene and unwilling to confront his best friend directly. He is acting as a peacemaker all the time, but it is obvious he is getting more and more worked up by the second. I still do not fully understand why Sam is not mad at Victor and is taking him clubbing instead of wiping the floor with him, but I owe him a little patience. Maybe, I should brace myself and pay less attention to the provocations.

   There is no way, though, that I am leaving those two alone. I used the opportunity to run to my apartment and put on something fancier in the form of a navy blue shirt and a pair of grey, plaid, slim-fit trousers when Victor left for his meeting, and made sure to return to Sam's house before him. We pulled off behind the club an hour later, at nearly nine p.m., ready to paint the town red. I admit, the other two are much more enthusiastic than me.

   There is one thing that can't be disputed. Sam is an eye candy and I am not the only one who thinks so. The passers-by are ogling him shamelessly. Victor is doing the same. That only makes me squeeze his hand harder. He is mine. I am fully prepared to beat someone's ass up, if I have to.

   "Peppercorn, is everything alright?" he smirks, glancing at our hands. I loosen the grip a little at the sight of his white knuckles. He places a juicy kiss on my mouth and chuckles, "I am not going anywhere, babe. All yours."

   "You better be," I mutter, staring at the criminally tight shirt he is wearing which threatens to burst open under the pressure of his perfectly defined pecs. I am fighting the irresistible urge to lick his tattooed biceps, startled at the thought that being in public does not seem a good reason to give up on the idea at all.

   We finally cross the distance between the parking lot and the main street. Our mouths fall agape. The three-row queue starts from 'Free Zone's' main entrance and is winding across two blocks. There must be hundreds of people, probably hoping to pass under the radar and get in somehow. I doubt they all have VIP passes.

   The sun has already set and the noisy crowd is moving slowly under the glimmering street lights. It is a warm summer evening. The air is scented by cigarette smoke, a sundry mixture of perfumes and vehicle exhaust fumes. I am not used to this. My nose wrinkles at the thought of a packed hall, sweaty bodies, pressed against each other and loud rock music. It is not my kind of entertainment.

   "Whoa, this club is damn popular for real," Victor exclaims, throwing an arm over my boyfriend's shoulders. I glare at him. If he wasn't such a nuisance, I would do him justice and admit that he looks quite good. His obnoxious demeanor, however, spoils the whole charm of his perfectly styled blond hair and the shiny blue eyes. He glares back and asks innocently, "What?"