Page 13 of Resonance
“I’ve never been nervous for him in my life.”
Quinn chuckled. “Me either. Though he did check his hair no less than ten times before we left and on the way over.”
“Vain one, isn’t he? When’d you figure it out?”
“Our second actual date?”
“So… last week?”
Quinn nudged my shoulder with a good-natured smile. They’d outlasted my prediction of a month tops by a lot, so I had little room to talk but still enjoyed ribbing them about their fast and furious connection.
Soon enough, Ru walked out on the stage, bantered back and forth with the audience a bit the way he did at Howie’s, then parked his ass on a stool and began to play.
I kept my ears tuned into the song, an original he’d shared with me before, as I swept the crowd again for Owen.
After patiently cataloguing the bar area, I spied him through a slot in the tangled mass of patrons waiting for drinks, up against the counter and hard to overlook in an electric-blue velvet dress coat and some kind of pink streaked through his hair I didn’t recall being there earlier in the week when he’d been working.
Owen’s attention wavered between the stage and the guy next to him, who leaned in to speak in his ear. He was taller, maybe a little older, a blond in jeans and a long-sleeved tee. Against Owen’s color, he looked bland and ordinary. When he laid his hand on Owen’s shoulder and gave it a rough squeeze, something about the gesture rankled me. I snapped my attention back to the stage because it was none of my business what Owen got up to off the clock.
And yet, as Ru played on, my focus kept roving back, seeking out the velvety nap of Owen’s jacket underneath the lights beaming down on the bar. I watched him drain a bottle of beer and set it back on the counter, then shake his head violently at something the guy with him said.
A second later, the guy grabbed Owen’s hand, yanked him from the stool, and pulled him toward the back of the venue. I rubbed at the heat crawling up the back of my neck and tried to focus on the stage again but kept looking over my shoulder, tracking Owen’s blue back as he moved through the crowd until he disappeared from view.
With an inward groan, I shoved off the column, made an excuse to Quinn, and started after them, tossing my empty beer in a trash can in passing.
I glimpsed a shard of blue passing through one of the side exits and followed it, progress getting hung up by the press of the crowd.
By the time I was able to get to the door, I figured they were probably long gone, but I stepped outside anyway, hot, unreasonably agitated, and wanting a moment in the cool, quiet darkness.
I hissed through the chill that nipped at my cheeks. A few streetlamps threw light and shadow in geometric slants across the buildings before me and onto the asphalt. But there was no sign of Owen and the guy. I let go of the door and inhaled a draft of cold air.
As the door clicked shut, movement caught my eye. A flash of pale and gold and dark. Pressed against the brick facade of the building next to a dumpster was Owen, the guy he’d been with at the bar smashed up against him, devouring his mouth like carrion on roadkill.
Turning swiftly, I yanked the door handle only to find it locked.
“Shit!” Owen’s startled exclamation echoed the one in my head. So much for making a quiet retreat. “Dan?Dan! Shit!” Owen blurted again, because apparently he didn’t know how to just goddamn ignore awkward moments like the rest of America.
I winced and lifted my hand in a sardonic wave.
“Ungh,” the other guy grunted absently.
I took that asnice to meet you. “Same,” I said. My gaze drifted down to where the guy’s hand hooked over the waistband of Owen’s pants. A flare of heat moved through me, distinct and unwelcome in the moment.Peachy fucking keen. I pointed toward the front of the building. “I’m just gonna…”
“We’re uhhh… yeah.” Owen laughed nervously, nudged his partner, and put his hands to his face as the other fella finally got with the program and took a step back, adjusting himself.
“This is why public’s a bad idea,” Owen groaned, and I tried not to look as he smoothed a hand over the front of his pants.
The other guy laughed as he listed to one side. “Maybe he likes a show. You like a show, dude?”
What I didn’t like was this guy—whoever he was—and Owen appeared to notice that in my scowl.
“Shh.”
Ignoring the guy, I looked directly at Owen. “This consensual?” It appeared to be, but shit, you never knew, and I was also scrambling for something to say in the first place. I wondered when finesse had abandoned me without giving proper notice. I should’ve just kept walking and pretended I hadn’t heard my name. But that would’ve been the smart thing to do.
Owen exhaled an airy chuckle. “Yeah? I mean, he was… and I was… yeah.” He gestured vaguely. “Definitely consensual. Also incredibly embarrassing right now. Maybe? I’m not sure yet. I think I’ve kinda disassociated myself for the moment. This is Brent, by the way. So see? Completely consensual.”
I eyed Brent up and down. He looked both bored and like he wanted to be elsewhere. For some reason, that grated on my nerves, too. “You might want to take this somewhere else. Show’s about to go on intermission.”