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I check my phone. Maybe there’s traffic. Maybe something happened. Maybe I’ll have any kind of message from him that will make this feel better.
I don’t.
I message him instead, shooting off a text asking if he plans to come to the club tonight. “Just so I know whether to warn the manager,” I add. Right, because that’s what I’m concerned about and not my rapidly crumbling heart.
Sorry, he writes back. The response comes quickly, which somehow feels worse than the alternative.Have too much grading I have to do for school. Can’t make it out tonight.
He doesn’t even have the decency to suggest that maybe he can come to the club some other time. The lie is blunt and brazen. There’s no mystery here. He’s too scared.He’s saying no because he doesn’t want someone to recognize him. Despite what we’ve been through, that’s ultimately what matters most to him, maintaining his privacy, keeping himself hidden in that closet of his while he cautiously sticks a toe out to test the waters.
I toss my phone onto a makeup table and hunch in my chair. I thought we were moving past this. I was willing to take it slow, to do it in baby steps, but I thought we were at least at a point where he didn’t have to outrightlieto me to avoid things he’s scared of. I doubt he thinks I believe this line about having to grade tests all night.
This shouldn’t hurt so much. I knew he wouldn’t come. I knew it was too soon. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I’ve been telling myself this all along. I haven’t pushed him even once. I’ve let him dictate every step of this so that he could be comfortable and safe. But what about my comfort? What about the things that make me feel safe? Am I supposed to keep waiting and hoping forever while he gives me little crumbs only how and when he feels like it?
I shake my head at myself. I’m not going to force anyone out of the closet. He has his reasons, and he’s opened up to me about them. I understand that there’s a lot of hurt there. I simply thought he might also considermyhurt,myfeelings,myhistory. I thought he might not want to be yet another guy who uses me until he’s bored.
I jolt to my feet in an effort to dislodge my uncharitable thoughts. I don’t want to think about Luke this way. He’s not like those other guys, the guys who take me home from the club, the guys who never even learn my name. He’s nothing at all like those men, yet the feeling is awfully similar to the feeling of those guys shooing me away in the morning. Once again, I’m someone no one wants to keep around, someone they don’t want to be seen with by day. Once again, I’m temporary.
I’m too worked up to untangle my feelings. Fair or not, it hurts right now. It hurts a lot. So much that it’s actually a relief when Caleb’s shift winds down and it’s time for me to get back out there. Dance has always been my outlet, and now is no different. I can get my pain out through my body. This is my version of running away. Sweat and movement and lights and heat — this is my version of escape. The eyes of the men watching me hungrily from the crowd don’t hurt either.
The tall, dark-haired man from before is on the dance floor, and he’s watching me just as avidly as he did at the beginning of the night. He even throws more bills on the platform for me.
An ugly thought clouds my mind. I could have him. It would take nothing. I could go home with that guy. I could not only dance away the hurt but fuck it away too. I could let this transaction happen, let myself and this stranger take what we need from each other before we discard eachother, and I know I’ll feel better. At least for tonight, I’ll feel better. I won’t have to think about Luke. I won’t have to miss him. I won’t have to wish he was braver. I won’t have to long for a day when he wants me enough to be braver. I can throw my body at someone who actually wants it and forget about everything else.
I’m in a bad enough mood to consider it. To strongly consider it, in fact. I make eye contact with the guy in the crowd, and he smiles. That’s all the conversation we need. If I come off this stage and saunter over to the bar later, he’ll be ready to buy me a drink. He’ll be ready to take me home. The matter is settled, and all I had to do was meet a stranger’s eyes in the dark.
It feels hollow. I don’t know if I’ll do it or not, but I already know it won’t fix anything. I want Luke. I want him too much to fix this with one hasty, anonymous hookup.
But maybe this stranger will help me get through this one bad night.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke
I STAY AT SCHOOL grading after the end of the day. I know Sebastian will ask why I didn’t come see him dance, and I’m already preparing to use this as my excuse. Marking incorrect answers on my students’ quizzes doesn’t do much to ease the ache of guilt tearing open my chest.
I didn’t make any firm promises to Sebastian, but the hope in his eyes was clear when we spoke on Saturday. This isn’t merely a nightclub to him. Dancing is his life, and he wants to share that with me of all people. I should be flattered, Iamflattered, but I’m also too afraid to follow through.
Once again, fear is dictating my life instead of desire.
I thought talking to James might have changed something, but it seems like I’m just as pathetic as I alwayshave been.
I give up on the grading. I haven’t made much progress since my thoughts started spiraling down a hole of depression. Instead, I collect my papers, hoping maybe I’ll finish grading them at home, and head out of the empty school building.
The parking lot is as quiet as the halls were. I’ve wallowed so long that everyone has gone home. Only the crunch of my feet over the asphalt accompanies me to my car, which would be great if it didn’t give my thoughts way too much space flourish.
I try heading directly home, but the second I’m inside the house, I know it was a mistake. The whole place is too quiet, and the memory of Sebastian eating dinner here, sleeping here, loiters around every corner, ready to attack me without warning. I quickly give up on being home, heading right back out and driving to my comfortable, familiar, safe bar over in Tripp Lake. Sure, it also happens to be the place where I got that drink with Sebastian the first time we met up, but I don’t have many other choices around here, and this is the bar where I go to be alone and clear my head. In the past, it’s been the bar I go to to try to calm down after hooking up with some guy from an app, but tonight it’s so much more than that — because Sebastian is so much more than that.
The place is pretty quiet on a Thursday night. When I sit at the bar, the bartender gives me a nod and heads rightover to ask what I want. Mere minutes pass before I have a beer in front of me and virtually no other humans around me. There’s the bartender, but he’s disinterested in me now that I have my drink. There’s also a guy sitting off in a corner and a woman at one of the tables, but the man is watching whatever sport is on the television and the woman is reading, both of them apparently as happy to be left alone as I am.
This is what I’ve always liked about this place, and why it’s become my refuge. No one here cares about anyone else’s business. Even though I sit at the bar in silence and only half-pretend to watch the television, my thoughts don’t whirl the way they did back in school or at home.
I sip slowly at my beer. I don’t actually want to get drunk tonight. It won’t do my brain any favors when it’s already trying to drown in self-loathing. No, better to sip slowly, barely get buzzed, then go home when my thoughts settle down.
Virginia’s arrival shatters that plan.
I turn my head instinctively when I hear someone new enter the bar. It’s so quiet tonight that any new patron is a major event, but why does that new patron need to be the principal of my school of all people?
We lock eyes, and there’s no denying that we recognized each other. She makes no pretense about it, striding over to sit on the stool beside mine. She doesn’t bother greeting me, just orders a beer and takes a swig.
