Page 4 of Tempted to Touch (Straight No More #1)

Second palm joins the first and I bury my face in them, putting both elbows on the bar top. " Please pretend you didn't hear it." With the way my voice is muffled, I'm not sure he can hear that .

"I might. After you explain."

Where's my damn earthquake? Fuck. And I've been doing so well.

I take a deep, unsatisfying breath and reluctantly let go of my face, before straightening up and turning to face him fully. I'm sure I’m redder than a brick, but...does that even matter at this point?

One more breath, and I force myself to meet his eyes. "I was just..." I sigh. There's no dignified way to finish the sentence. "I was trying to find you."

Hayden stands up straight as well and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a new angle of his tattooed forearms, and suddenly I hate how tall he is. "Why?"

I shrug. "I dunno," I mumble. Holding his gaze right now is a fucking workout.

"That's not good enough."

"But it's the truth, okay?" My arms shoot up by my sides and I accidentally hit someone in the hip.

I mumble an apology and lower my voice. Suddenly I have much more compassion for the guy that bumped into me earlier.

Maybe he was running from himself too. "I don't know.

All I know is, I wanted to see you again.

You made me feel...things. I guess I just wanted to feel them again. "

Hayden hums and takes his sweet time to study my face. I can feel a bead of sweat forming at my temple, but I don't move to wipe it off. I don't move at all, don't hide my face and don't look away. I need to face him head on. If nothing else, for my own sanity.

"What thi—" he finally says, but stops himself mid-word and shakes his head. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I don't want to know. We're good."

And then, he relaxes his stance and leans over the bar again, bringing his glass to his lips and downing half of it in a single swig.

I scrunch my forehead. "What do you mean?"

What is this? Some type of reverse psychology?

"What I said. Just...forget about it."

Okay, what's happening? I'm not saying it would be better if he were mad, but...at least it'd be something.

He's not even looking at me anymore, leaning over the bar with his forearms, nursing the glass in his large palm, staring somewhere at the air in front of him.

Unreadable. I wait for him to elaborate, but after an entire verse of the song that's currently playing comes and goes, it becomes clear that he doesn't have any words of explanation to offer.

Or any words, for that matter.

It doesn't sit right with me. "What if I don't want to?"

Hayden takes another sip before speaking to his glass, "Want what?"

"Forget about it."

"Well, that's too bad, because I do."

I lean sideways over the bar and lower my head. Just because he won't look at me doesn't mean I can't be in his face. "What did I do? I know you're not mad I...well, stood you up, which I technically didn't, and last week—"

He snaps his head toward me so fast I instinctively back mine. "Drop it." His voice is stern but steady, bordering on quiet.

"Look, I'm sorry. All I wanted was—"

"Actually, you know what?" He stands up straight, towering over me.

"It's getting late. I should get going. I had fun.

" Really? Cause you don't fucking sound like it .

"Thanks for the drink. Thanks for the pic.

Nice work on these abs. But please don't contact me again.

Have a nice day. Have a nice...everything. "

And before I can process all of those nice-bombs, he pats my arm, steps around me and makes a beeline for the door, skillfully slaloming between the tables and people milling around. And he's walking fast .

Okay, what just happened?

I count back from three, waiting for my brain to hopefully process.

When it doesn't, I down the rest of my drink, hoping the burn in my throat will mitigate the one in my chest, throw another fifty on the bar as collateral, in case the bartender became an involuntary witness to this bizarre exchange and rush to the door.

Warm breeze hits my skin the moment I step outside. I quickly look both ways and catch a large, dark silhouette at the last possible moment as Hayden turns the corner and disappears from my field of vision.

"Wait!" I call after him, the word echoing off the walls as I pace toward where he just was. Once I turn the corner, I see him still walking. "Hayden!" I yell as I stop.

He can hear me alright. I've done my part. I won't fucking chase him.

He takes another couple of steps, albeit slower, before he stops, throws his head back as if sighing to the moon, and then slowly turns around.

He puts his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and raises his shoulders. "What?"

Realizing that's all the good will I'm gonna get, I run my fingers through my hair and slowly walk over to where he waits under the streetlamp.

I stop a few feet away from him. He wouldn't want me to invade his space. He made it more than clear. "I don't want to bother you—"

He tilts his head to the side. "Really?"

I ignore him. "—but I'm just... trying to understand, I guess. Look, I'm sorry about the Grindr thing. If it was...an invasion of privacy, or something. I know it was kind of shitty." I shrug. "I just...really wanted to see you again."

He lets out a prolonged sigh. The warm, overhead lighting has no business looking as good as it does on his face, yet somehow it makes him even more handsome. More mysterious. And strangely, darker. "I'm not bothered by how you found me."

"Then...what are you bothered by?"

He sways back on his heels before turning. For a second I'm sure he's walking away, but he just does a three-sixty, apparently buying himself some time. "That you wanted to find me in the first place."

I flail my arms to the sides, unrestricted.

There's no one for me to hit out here. "I don't know what that means," I snap, a little too loud.

I take a calming breath and take a step closer, lowering my voice.

"My memory might not be perfect, but I thought you.

.. you know." I swing my hand in front of my body in a presenting motion, if a little pathetic. "Found me attractive, or something."

"I did." I take a sharp inhale to retort, but he's faster. "But that was before."

I scrunch my nose. "Before... Before you knew I was desperate?"

He laughs, and my stomach does that thing again. "Before I knew you were straight."

"Oh..." I bite the inside of my cheek. Shit.

It'd be hard to really argue with that one, wouldn't it?

Even if I could think of a few arguments for either side.

"Right, but... I thought maybe we could, like, be friends or something.

" The second the words leave my mouth I let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

"God, why do I sound like a pre-schooler? "

"I can't be friends with you, Chris." And just before my queued-up 'Why' can leave my lips, he adds, " Because I find you attractive."

My next inhale is clipped and audible and I don't miss the way he lazily swipes his gaze down my frame, and then up again, equally slowly.

I don't know if my brain is designed to interpret the mixed signals. All I know is, they make me a little warmer inside, and I can feel them in different parts of my body. My throat. My chest. My groin. They also make me take another step forward. And then one more.

He takes a step back in return. "Don't. Don't do that." His voice is barely above a whisper; deep, growly and pleading.

I raise my palms in a placating gesture. "Sorry. I'll behave."

He grazes his top lip with his bottom teeth and nods. "Good... Great."

We stand like that for a moment, looking at each other, then around, then each other again. In silence that should be awkward, but somehow isn't. Even the wind seems to ease for a moment, as if to stop and look at us too.

"I like your forearms," I say when my eyes land on them.

Not to fill the silence, but because it's the truth.

My gaze slides up to where he's rolled up his sleeves and then more up to where he left the top buttons undone.

"And your chest. That I've seen illegally.

" He lets out a small, breathy chuckle while my eyes travel up.

"And your eyebrows. I like quite a lot about you, actually. It's weird, but it's true."

He closes his eyes, his heavy brows falling lower. "Don't do that," he repeats, but this time, it sounds different. Thicker. Like a warning.

Like something I want to hear again.

"I wonder..." I leave it hanging as I watch his jaw set, eyes still closed, and fuck. Why does that do things to me. "I wonder how the rest of you looks."

He's fast like a cheetah. One second I'm standing there, watching his face grow taut and sharp, the next I'm yelping as my back hits a brick wall, Hayden's tense face hovering a couple inches above mine, tattooed forearm pressing firmly against my sternum, keeping me in place.

"What is it you want from me exactly, huh?" He growls through his teeth, and it's a good fucking thing he's pinning me to that wall. I'm not sure my knees could support me right now.

Fucking hell, he's feral, breathing heavily through his nose, those thick brows furrowed, eyes almost black, and I feel it. I feel it in my fucking balls, my cock twitching with every one of his breaths that land on my face.

It's scary.

Not Hayden. What's happening to me is.

My breaths are shaky as I contemplate my next words. Not because I can't find them, but because speaking them out loud is dangerous.

And I'm fucking reckless. "I want you to want me."

"Yeah?" he snaps back, pushing harder against me. "And after that? What's next straight boy, huh?"

Fuck .