Page 2 of Absolutely Pucked (Punk as Puck #3)

Hooking up was difficult enough when I had a prosthetic leg that almost reached my hip.

Half the time, the guys who liked it had a thing for guys like me, which always gave me the biggest ick.

With jeans on and the promise to only take my dick out, I was usually able to avoid those and get my rocks off. Enough to take the edge off, anyway.

Hooking up always gave me better respect for Boden though, who couldn’t hide himself between a well-placed pair of jeans. I don’t know if that made me a shitty friend or not, but…whatever. He loved me as I was.

I slid up to the bar and took a deep breath before making eye contact.

The bartender was gorgeous, with perfectly applied makeup, a mesh shirt sporting a pin that said “they/them” in rainbow glitter, thin braids that were woven with bright blue, and dark brown skin that was covered in some kind of body glitter that made them look holographic under the club lights.

They were too gorgeous for a useless weekday where they were probably making nothing in tips, and I was too fucking poor to make their night.

“What can I get you, honey?”

“Rum and Coke—like, bottom-shelf shit,” I added, and they laughed. “Also, any hints on who might be an easy but not creepy lay?”

They hummed as they reached for the well bottles, and I smiled when I watched them give me a slightly longer pour than normal.

Their gaze flickered off to the side, where a man was sitting at the end of the bar.

I couldn’t get a good look at his face with his head tipped down, but he was definitely my type.

He had thick arms and full waist—bit of a dad bod or whatever people were calling it these days.

His jaw was covered with a thick beard that I usually hated, but I didn’t mind it on him.

His hair could have used some work—it wasn’t as long as mine, though it had length, but it was definitely unkempt.

Maybe not unwashed, but he didn’t put a lot of effort into his appearance.

I could see why the bartender thought he was an easy lay. But was he creepy? Signs pointed to a hard… mmm , maybe.

“I think I’ll need a drink first.”

They nodded. “He ordered a peach schnapps and Seven-Up,” they said, tipping their head low toward me. “And nothing but water since then. They’ve been here for about three hours and haven’t asked anyone to dance.”

Lord have mercy. My heart wrenched in my chest. They were either sad or luckless. That was kind of my sex kryptonite. Or…wait. Aphrodisiac?

Whatever, it got me going because I was most definitely a freak. Unresolved trauma will do that to a guy. Any therapist would have a field day with my people-pleasing and hero complex, but I didn’t have the money these days to pay someone my own fucking age to tell me what I already knew.

Shitty parents: check.

Losing my leg as a teenager: check.

Getting kicked out at sixteen for having a shitty attitude about it: check.

I was filled to the brim with unresolved trauma, and the short stint I did in therapy, the poor woman who was most definitely a grad student looked at me with a helpless look in her eyes and said, “I don’t know what I can do for you.”

So yeah. I was good.

“Refill?”

I blinked up at the bartender. “What’s your name? ”

“Max.”

“Max.” I leaned my elbow on the bar. “Great name. Do you think that guy over there is a serial killer with an amputee fetish?”

They coughed and looked a bit startled. “Um. I can’t say I’ve ever met one, so I don’t know. It’s probably a safe bet that he’s not. He seems sad, not homicidal.”

“Do you think Jeffrey Dahmer seemed sad or homicidal?”

Max hesitated, then reached into their pocket and handed me a key. “Look, this place used to be one of those old-school pubs with rooms rented on top. Far right at the top of the stairs. It’s partly storage, but there’s a couch and a microwave. It’s not as anonymous as a hotel, but it’s private.”

“And if you find a dead body?—”

“I’ll be sure to give the security footage to the cops.”

It was a start. “And when my friends come looking for clues—it’ll be a very short pale dude with crutches and another pale dude with two prosthetic legs—tell them I love them.”

Max grinned. “You got it.”

“I owe you.”

“Just come back when you can and spend more money here so I don’t have to close this club before I hit the five-year mark.”

I offered them a mock salute before sliding off the chair and steadying myself.

I had a pretty noticeable limp and probably should walk with my cane more often, but it was easier to blame it on being drunk when I was trying to hook up.

And I really wanted to get laid and not tell this guy all about myself .

The room was a great offer, but getting my dick sucked in a dirty bathroom was the better choice. It was a perfect way to not have to take my pants all the way off. But I could probably make excuses when we got upstairs.

If we got upstairs.

Or I could just tell him the truth and see what he said. It worked for Tucker, apparently. And Boden hooked up all the time. Even Micah and Jonah had no problem pulling whoever they wanted, and neither of them had eyes, so…what was one little leg?

Right?

My pep talk was not working.

My stomach felt like it was trying to live in my throat as I slid onto the barstool, and the guy looked over at me.

There was something about him that set off my internal alarms, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

I swayed in slightly and sniffed. He didn’t smell.

Well, he had that sort of gym shampoo scent about him, but that wasn’t something I’d hold against the guy.

And while he was unkempt, his clothes were clean, and his nails were trimmed, so yeah. He was just a guy. My gut was clearly having issues today.

“I’m Ford.” I wasn’t sure if I should go Boden’s route and give a fake name, but I also didn’t have famous parents, so…

“Hey.”

Alright. No name. “Can I buy you a drink?” I really didn’t have the budget for it, but whatever. I’d borrow some cash from Bodie if I had to .

“I’m, uh…I’m good.” He tried for a smile, and his cheeks looked hollow.

Mother fuck . “Dinner?”

He sucked in half a breath, then shook his head. “I’m good with my water.”

Tapping my chin, I bit my lip and glanced at the stairs. They’d be a real bitch to get up, but I could do it. I’d been navigating life with a knee and ankle made out of hinges and titanium for sixteen years of my life.

“I’m going to order a big-ass plate of appetizers and then take it upstairs to one of those rooms. Max over there”—I jerked my chin toward them—“gave me the key. It would be kind of cool if you joined me.”

The guy stared at me for a beat. “I’m…Ian.”

Probably not his real name, but I wasn’t expecting much. The fact that he gave it at all was progress. But I couldn’t keep at this all night. I needed to just…put it all out there. “I was also hoping for a fuck, but we can just eat fried foods and talk about why life’s so shitty if you want.”

His lips twitched behind his thick beard, and he huffed a wheezing sort of laugh. “It’s been a while for me.”

“With anyone or with a guy?”

“Both. High school for guys. It was my experimental phase.” His voice was rough but also weirdly familiar. He was probably just one of those guys. “If I suck at it?—”

“I mean, sucking is good in this case,” I said with a wink.

He snorted. “Fair enough.”

“Wait here. Don’t leave. ”

A beat passed, and then Ian said, “Nowhere to go right now.”

I wouldn’t let that get to me. I absolutely fucking would not. Sliding off the stool, I walked to the other end of the bar and waved Max over. “Can I get your, like, biggest appetizer thing that we can take upstairs? Something that will feed a grown man?”

“Two grown men?” Max asked with a smirk.

“I’ll happily give him my share if I need to.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Boden’s contact. “Give me three minutes, and I’m going to start a tab.”

Me: Babe. Can you ask your daddy to borrow like two hundred bucks for me?

Boden: Never call him that again. Why do you need two hundred bucks?

Me: Will you accept that it’s a sex thing?

Boden: No.

Me: A secret?

Boden: Fine. Put it on your Red Card and I’ll make a payment.

Me: I love you so fucking much.

Boden: I know.

Me: Also it is a sex thing, but I’m not paying for sex.

Me: But I’m not judging people who do.

Me: If you want to pay for sex I would never think less of you.

Boden: Vas-t’en.

I’d known Boden too long to not know what those French words meant. Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I dug the Red Card out of my wallet and slid it across the bar. “For the food. And the room.”

Max glanced down at it, then sighed. “You’re not going to be a lodger for the week, are you?”

“Just a night. Scout’s honor.”

“Honey, there’s not a chance in hell you were a Scout.”

They were right. I wasn’t allowed growing up.

I wasn’t allowed to do much of anything.

I ignored the little twist in my stomach that happened every time I thought about my parents and instead grinned.

“Drinks too. Whatever he was drinking that wasn’t booze, and maybe a couple of beers?

I don’t know. Something to get us in the mood. ”

Max stared at me. “You don’t do this a lot, do you, sweetheart?”

“I’m not a virgin or anything, but…yeah. No.”

They looked over at Ian and hummed. “Why him? He seems so sad.”

“Yeah. I think I’m sort of into that,” I confessed.

Max blinked, then burst into laughter. “I gotchu. Look, head up there, alright? I’ll bring it all up. And hey,” they said as I turned to walk away, “good luck.”

I felt a tiny thrill creep up my spine as I headed back toward Ian. He was watching me now—openly. Curiously. His gaze flicked down to my feet, then back up to my face. “Old football injury.”

He huffed a laugh. “What are you, eighteen?”

“That’s fucking rude. I’m twenty-seven, thank you so fucking much.” I leaned on the stool beside him, and our gazes locked. I could tell him the truth. It was a good time to let it all out. But I couldn’t get the words out. I took a deep breath, and it trembled on my exhale.

“If you want to change your mind,” Ian started.

“What? No. God, no, that’s not…” I passed a hand down my face. “I swear that’s not it. I’m just kind of an awkward gremlin when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“Picking up total strangers in a bar?”

“Something like that.” I glanced at the stairs. “Wanna head up? I have the key, and Max said they’d bring us the food when it’s ready.”

Ian’s eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Yeah.” He hopped down and stepped ahead of me before stopping next to the railing.

“After you,” I told him. It would be easier that way. I could move quickly if I was allowed to move differently than people with two legs.

He gave me a funny look, but then he turned, and I only had enough time to take a breath before I grabbed both sides of the railing, put all my weight into my forearms, and practically arm-walked behind him.

When we hit the landing, he turned just as I reached the top step. His hand was out in front of him, fingers grazing my chest. He seemed almost terrified, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped closer.

“This is a sex thing, right? ”

I bit my lip, then nodded. “That was the original plan. If you want to just hang out though, I’m cool with that.”

He let out a slow breath. “It’s been a while for me. It…might be nice to do this. To forget, you know?”

I wanted to ask what he was trying to forget—what he was running from—but I was going to take a leaf out of Boden’s book and let it not matter. Just for now.

Just this once.