Page 53 of Jealous Guy

“…I mean, what the fuck, bruh? What even was that? You pushed the guy for no reason?”

I don’t answer because I don’t know what it was either, and I’m not at all proud of what I suspect it might have been. I do know that I want to get out of here, and fast. “D’you mind if we dip? I’m not really feeling it.”

Orion blasts a huff of annoyance through his lips. “I knew you wouldn’t be into it. I told you, didn’t I? Didn’t I say a gay club wouldn’t be for you?”

“I’m plenty into it,” I correct firmly. “The lights are getting to me. You know how I get sometimes. Overstimulated, or whatever. It’s the flashing and all the colors. It’s too much.”

“Hm,” Orion says noncommittally. There’s a little glint in his eye that I recognize as a precursor to taking the piss out of me. “I dunno, bud. I think you might be a bit of a shitty wingman.”

A shitty wingman? I’m a great fucking wingman. I mean, technically, yes, tonight hasn’t been my best performance, but any other time, I’m straight up amazing at getting my bros laid.

“Look, a wingman’s responsibilities are a little more complicated than you might think, okay, Orion? You’re simplifying incredibly nuanced things here, and that’s what’s erroneously led you to that conclusion. But you’re dead wrong.”

“Right. Nuanced. Is that what they’re calling it now?” He scoffs under his breath. “And don’t say words like erroneous when we’re out. You can’t pull it off.”

I hold my hands up in submission. I don’t want to argue with Orion, and he’s right about me saying erroneous. I shouldn’t have done it. Especially not in a nightclub. It doesn’t match the vibe. I’m not ready to admit I was wrong about Thomas though. Because I wasn’t wrong about him.

“I made a call based on a detailed analysis of the situation, and I stand by it. Thomas was an obvious dick, and you can do better.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he says as I guide him out of Dorothy’s, taking an inordinate amount of care to avoid Iver.

Orion taps at the screen of his phone and orders a ride home for us as soon as we get outside. We stand on the curb, breathing in fresh night air and staring down the street. We look for our car in silence, though the app reliably informs us it’s a good five minutes away.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask when curiosity gets the better of me.

Orion looks up at the sky for several seconds and expels a long breath. “No, Jordan, I do not have a Daddy kink.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

It totally was, so I’m left scrambling to think of a new question. I’m drawing a catastrophic blank and panicking because Orion is looking at me in a no-nonsense way that demands I say something, and fast. In the history of being me, no good has ever come from what my brain chooses to spit out in moments like this. Tonight is no different. If anything, it’s a new low point for me.

“Do you…? Did you…? Have you ever, like, had a crush on me, or whatever?”

28

Orion

The question arrives, delivered with the finesse of a bomb that’s been painstakingly packaged, wrapped, and placed in my lap. There’s a weight to it that’s familiar. Like something I ordered myself and have been expecting to receive for a while. There’s an inevitability to it that makes me realize I’m a little surprised it’s taken him so long to ask. There’s plenty of dread too, obviously. And a fuckton of anxiety.

It’s late, and it’s been a very strange night. My heart is still thudding in time with the music in Dorothy’s, I’m wearing a shirt that smells intoxicatingly like Jordan, and my ability to lie—or think—has left me completely.

“Sure,” I hear myself saying. “Course I did… For, like, a minute.”

“Oh yeah?” A flame flickers under parchment, catching alight and doing things to Jordan’s eyes that are, frankly, insane. “Then what happened?”

I shake my head and muster a genuine, heartfelt snort because, honestly, if this wasn’t about me and thus completely mortifying, it would be funny as hell. “Then I got to know you, dipshit.”

It’s the truth, in a manner of speaking. The truth, with a really big omission.

It was a crush, and then I got to know him. When that happened, it stopped being a crush and turned into something much, much worse.

Thank Christ and all that is holy, our car pulls up before either of us has time to say anything else. We get in and buckle up, and Jordan makes small talk with the driver. He loves talking to strangers, but tonight, the conversation is lacking, and after a minute or two, he turns his attention back on me.

“What did you want with that Thomas asshole anyway?” He scrunches his nose as if he’s encountered a bad smell. “The guy was sleazy as fuck. He was covered in cold sweat, and you hate sweat that’s gone cold. It’s literally one of your biggest icks. What were you thinking?”

I’m not comfortable having this conversation with the driver within earshot, but I know if I don’t answer fast, Jordan will simply ask the question again, but louder.

I talk quietly, with a hand obscuring my mouth. “Maybe I wanted to get my cock sucked, okay? Maybe that’s what I was thinking.”