Better Than Good

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Better Than Good

Copyright © 2013 by Lane Hayes

Cover Art by Aaron Anderson

[email protected]

Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only
and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62380-639-2

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-640-8

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

July 2013

For Bob, my love.

1

I
T
WAS
early October. The clawing heat of a DC summer had finally given way to a glorious cool crisp autumn evening. I had been out with a big group of friends, which had dwindled to four as the night wore on. My friend Curt was one of the four, and he made a call for the remaining partiers to head over to Club Indigo in Dupont Circle. Curt was gay and was probably horny and ready to play. The rest of us were just tipsy enough to go along with him and have another drink or two before climbing into taxis to take us back across the river to Georgetown and our humble apartment near the university.

I’d been with Curt to clubs and gay bars on occasion. I just figured he was always willing to hang with us at sports bars and local straight haunts, so why not return the favor and keep him company? Besides, he was schnockered that night, and we agreed he needed adult supervision until we could persuade him to go home.

There was a small line at the club entrance. It felt invigorating to stand out in the cool autumn night and drink in the fresh air for a minute. I remember thinking it was a good thing the line was short or we would have set aside our kind intentions to keep Curt company. The atmosphere was definitely different in that part of town. It had a vibe all its own. And at one in the morning, the streets on and near the Circle belonged to the gays. Curt happily pointed out the leather daddies, twinks, and just plain hunky guys as we waited. I was amused, but I could tell Dave and Jason were uncomfortable and beginning to regret our impetuousness.

We paid the cover, and three of us headed toward the bar while Curt made a beeline for the main dance floor. The sound inside the club was deafening. The music had a jungle-like beat I could feel vibrate through my entire body. And the lights were a flashing display of color, making it difficult to focus unless you were inches away from whomever you were trying to get close to. A drink would help. I ordered a vodka soda and then made my way through the crowd to a short set of stairs leading to the dance floor below. I figured the height would allow me to scope out Curt while I waited for Dave and Jason to pick up our drinks.

Someone brushed past me in his effort to move from the bar area down to the main dance floor. He danced around me near the floor’s edge as though he was trying to make his way toward center stage. There was something in the way he moved that caught my eye. He was liquid and sure in his movements, and I could see from the hot stares of the crowd around me that I wasn’t the only one mesmerized. His hair was black in the dark club, but I couldn’t clearly see what he looked like unless I moved down toward the main level. I looked back toward the bar and saw Dave hand signal that he was still waiting for the drinks. I gave him a brief nod and then found myself moving down the steps. I didn’t intend to follow this guy, but I wanted to see his small, lithe body move up close.

I had lost him in the crowd of sweaty, scantily clad, sexy men gyrating to a Lady Gaga song, and was about to turn back to the bar when I caught sight of him a second time. The light was better where I stood, and as I got my first good look at him, my breath literally caught in my chest. I had never seen anyone, male or female, so beautiful in my life. His hair was so dark it may as well have been black. He swung his hands above his head, and his long, straight bangs fell into his right eye as his head fell forward. His hips never stopped moving. He was wearing clothes meant to show his body to perfection: tight dark jeans and a tight fire-engine red V-neck T-shirt. He was much shorter than my own six one. I guessed him to be about five eight, tops. He seemed a bit on the thin side, but toned, as though he spent some time in the gym.

I watched as he opened his eyes and leaned in closer to hear something a boy dancing near him said. He smiled at the boy and then turned to look directly at me.

I swear the noise and vibrations of the club went suddenly silent. Men may have been dancing, talking, laughing above the din of the music, but in my head it was quiet. Crazy, right? He was still staring in my direction, but my feet wouldn’t move. Should I be moving toward him, away from him? I was paralyzed. He made the decision for me. In an instant he was inches away from me, and I could see I had been completely correct. This guy was stunning.

I guess some backstory about me might be helpful. I was twenty-four and finishing law school at Georgetown while interning at a prestigious law firm downtown. I was hoping to be hired when I graduated in the spring next year. I had a great group of friends who were largely struggling students like me. All of us, for the most part, had great educations and were hopeful to find real jobs in a crappy economy.

Oh… and I had a girlfriend. I was straight. Didn’t I mention that?

I couldn’t remember ever feeling so drawn to anyone, though, and the partial truth was that I was more than half-drunk. So I decided to not question what it meant to be a straight guy dancing with a gay man. I decided go with the flow. This was something I could blame on Curt if it ever got thrown in my face. You’re supposed to dance at dance clubs, and really, that was all I was doing. So what if the guy I was dancing with was smoking hot?

I didn’t have any recriminating thoughts going through my head while we were dancing. I was truly mesmerized. I had never seen anyone who could move like this guy. He was seriously sexy. His hips never stopped, and his hands were in constant motion. I wondered, strangely, if he was a hand talker. I wondered what his voice sounded like. Now that I was so close to him, I could see he was of Latin decent, which made me wonder where he was from and if he spoke with an accent. I wondered how old he was and if he was attached. Geez, maybe his boyfriend was an old geezer who liked watching his hot young thing dance with other men, or maybe he was outside for a smoke and I was going to get my ass kicked when he returned and found me drooling over his guy. Sure, I would explain that I was straight, and he’d get a huge laugh at the straight guy who couldn’t take his eyes off his lover.

I admit a lot of stupid thoughts crashed and collided in my head as we moved closely on the overcrowded dance floor. It was as though I could tell this first meeting was something out of the ordinary. I’d had those moments before, but never with a person. For instance, I remember receiving acceptance letters from Columbia and Georgetown Law Schools and knowing instinctively that Georgetown was where I would go. I was not a “go by the seat of your pants, let fate take you where it will” kind of a guy. I was a planner. A methodical planner at times. However, I’d learned to trust my gut.

As I did my best to not embarrass myself on the floor with my superior dance partner, I also tried to remind myself to stay in my buzz-addled happy place and to not overthink. This was just a lark. A bit of fun before finally heading home for the night and dealing with the inevitable hangover in the morning.

Our difference in height should have been awkward. I was easily five inches taller than him. Where he was slender and fine-boned, I was broad shouldered and built like the former college quarterback I was. However, I got the impression he could have danced with anyone and no one would notice his partner, no matter how good-looking they were. And although I knew I was considered better than average looking, he was extraordinary.

The lights dimmed and the beat slowed dramatically, but I caught my partner’s incredible smile as he signaled me to follow him and made a get-a-drink motion. I kept close to him as we exited the floor without actually touching him, although I was very aware that my fingers itched to curl into his belt loops and draw my hand along the olive skin exposed just above his low-waisted jeans.

We made it to the main bar, and I watched him wiggle his way with a breathtaking smile or a gentle touch as he pushed through the three-person-deep line to make his way to the front and placed himself right in front of a bartender who was seemingly just delivering his last order. He looked back at me and smiled again. I gave him a little wave, but was suddenly feeling a bit silly. What was I doing? I took a minute to glance around the club, trying to spot my buddies in the mass of bodies. I guessed Curt was dancing, but I would have bet Dave and Jason were somewhere near the bar. I thought I spotted them but was distracted by a hand on my forearm.

“Hey. I didn’t know what you drank, so I just got two kamikazes. Cheers!”

He leaned in to speak in my ear as he handed the glass over. No foreign accent, I mused. A nice voice, though, and a fucking heart-stopping smile. His eyes positively seemed to light up when he gave that beautiful smile, and although I couldn’t ever remember noticing such a thing before, I wanted to tell him so. I wanted to say, “Wow, you have the nicest smile, you have the most gorgeous eyes, you must be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Thankfully, I didn’t embarrass myself quite that badly. Instead, I took the offered glass and returned his smile.

“Thanks. That was really nice of you.”

Okay. That was lame. But I was practically tongue-tied. I didn’t know what to say or how to act suddenly. It was like I was a freshman in high school trying to make time with a varsity cheerleader. Only the same-sex version. Luckily, he saved me.

“I haven’t seen you here before. First time?”

“Yeah. You come here often?”

I did not just say that.

Oh boy. I needed to make an exit or be saved by one of my friends fast. I was a drowning man. I wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but I think I realized it was just me. I was really nervous. Ugh!