Page 3 of Mr. Naughty List
Then he let it go. Casey and Joel were cute, but they didn’t live the kind of life RJ wanted for himself. Too settled. Too domestic. Too…sweet. If he ever committed to a relationship, he’d want something with more of a bite to it. A sharp, hot spark.
After final goodbyes and reassurances that Joel and Casey really didn’t mind loading out without him, RJ grabbed another beer and headed out the front door. Scruffy City Hall’s patio faced Market Square proper. Though a few people lingered, chatting with the bouncer, it was mostly empty, folks preferring to be inside on this chilly December night in Tennessee.
RJ wore only jeans, combat boots, and a black T-shirt, and he dropped into a chair at a wrought-iron table, shuddering as the sweat on his skin prickled in the cool breeze. Normally, he’d want a jacket at the very least. But after the heat of the packed interior and the bitter cold of the winter he’d spent in Finland last year, the chilly night air felt good on his sweaty skin.
Stars popped between folds of darkness, obscured by the lights of the square, and the scent of buttered popcorn drifted over from the outdoor ice rink the city slapped up every year at Christmastime. Squeals and gurgles of laughter spilled out from the walled oval of ice, providing a bittersweet sense of innocence offset by the thrum of dance music coming from inside the pub behind him.
RJ scrubbed his hand over his closely cropped hair and sighed with pleasure. Kicking his feet up into the chair next to him, he slung back another gulp of beer, then pulled out his phone to open his latest hookup app. There had to be a hard-up hottie in the holiday crowd somewhere, either in the pub itself or in another establishment in Market Square. It was Knoxville, for God’s sake. Home of tons of closeted, horny men.
As he swiped mindlessly, holiday shoppers went in and out of the Market Square stores. All of the windows were beautifully decorated with greenery, lights, colorful ribbons, bows, and shining stars. RJ had just decided to give up on the app and on getting laid when Scruffy City Hall’s door flung wide and a slender man in his late twenties stalked out with a cell phone pressed against his ear. His shoulders curved against the punch of cold wind, and he shivered hard despite his tweed sports coat.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” the man said breathlessly. “Are you running late?”
RJ’s heart stumbled. The man might have his back to RJ, but RJ would recognizethatvoice andthathot ass anywhere. Any. Fucking. Where.
An electric thrill shot up RJ’s spine.
Sitting up straighter, he dropped his feet to the ground and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it again, before quickly sniffing his pits. Not too ripe. Not too fresh either. Sweaty, like a man should be.
Yes, aman.
No longer a boy. It’d been five and a half long years since he’d last seen Mr. Aaron Danvers in person, and RJ most certainly hadn’t been a man back then.
“Oh.” Mr. Danvers’s head and shoulders dropped. Puffs of condensed breath lifted around him, and he shifted from one foot to the other. Suddenly, he raised a hand and flipped off the sky. Then, totally casually, like he hadn’t just expressed rage to the heavens, he said, “Of course. No problem. I completely understand. Have a good night.” Mr. Danvers ended the call and cursed softly before dropping his phone into his jacket pocket.
With his back still to RJ, he leaned his weight against another empty patio table, gazing toward the skating rink. Several slow seconds ticked by with music from the rink drifting over to them, Mariah’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” along with the giddy yells and bubbling laughter of people too young to know how crap the world could be. Or what it was like to be let down.
Mr. Danvers loosed a long, frustrated sigh. “Fuck,” he whispered finally.
“Get stood up, Mr. Danvers?” RJ asked. His insides trembled with fizzy-popping excitement, like someone had slipped Pop Rocks into his beer. But he leaned back in his chair, crossing his boots at the ankle, and tried like hell to look calmer than he felt.
Mr. Danvers’s shoulders tensed again, and he whipped around.
RJ caught his breath.God, he’s still perfect.
Mr. Danvers’s golden-brown hair, highlighted by the white twinkle lights all around Market Square, shifted in the breeze and looked soft to the touch. He’d maintained the compact, twinky build that had made even teenaged RJ feel like a hulking giant next to him. Everything about Mr. Danvers’s lithe body had always been arousing—his long neck, his delicately tapered fingers, and especially his juicy ass, which was currently encased in sexy, fitted trousers that hung perfectly to show off its shape.
Fuck.
RJ had often fantasized about biting into that bouncy flesh. Of course, he’d never had the pleasure. After all, Mr. Danvers had been his teacher. Off-limits and out of bounds. Not to mention completely oblivious to the desperate crush suffered by the gangly, acne-faced, long-haired, queer kid in the back of the sixth-period Senior English Composition classroom.
A surge of confidence lifted RJ’s chin. His face had cleared up since then, and he’d cut his long, greasy hair years ago. He was an attractive,grown assman now. He’d traveled the world, for fuck’s sake, and screweda lotof dudes. He wasn’t the awkward kid he used to be. As Mr. Danvers stared at him in surprise, and with a hint of confusion in his furrowed brow, RJ tried to put all that hard-earned adult experience into his expression.
Because, while there had never been any confirmation, or even any real rumors around school about Mr. Danvers, RJ had killer gaydar. And Mr. Danvers was as gay as a rainbow flag busting out its best colors over the Pride Parade.
He just knew it.
Mr. Danvers stared at him for a long, awful moment, and RJ’s bravado wore terrifyingly thin—had Mr. Danvers forgotten him?—before a smile of recognition broke across Mr. Danvers’s fine-featured face. “RJ Blitz? Is that you?” His adorable dimples grew deeper. “I didn’t recognize you up on the stage.”
RJ cocked a brow.
Weird. RJ wasn’t sure why Mr. Danvers had lied, but he knew bullshit when he heard it. Maybe Mr. Danvers hadn’t recognized RJ for a moment in the dark of the patio outside the bar when he’d first turned around, but he’d damn well known who he was on stage. Small inflections of Mr. Danvers’ voice and a sudden strain in his eyes had given that much away.
Curiosity about Mr. Danvers’s lie bit into him, like the way he wanted to bite into Mr. Danvers’ butt. What had prompted such a denial? Surely it couldn’t be…
There was no way…
Right?