Page 2 of Unexpectedly You (Boston Boys Bozok #1)
Chapter Two
Bentley
“Hey, that was your last appointment,” Peyton says, knocking on the door to the massage room I’m currently cleaning and disinfecting after my last client.
It’s been a week since my breakup and I’ve been kept pretty busy with work.
Peyton is my assistant, and by that I mean she does pretty much everything, from taking calls and scheduling appointments to managing our social media accounts, advertising, and marketing, and she created our website as well.
I honestly don’t know what I would do without her.
It’s just the two of us in this little hole in the wall building, but we’ve done well for ourselves since we started up our business six months ago and are getting more and more clients every day.
“What do ya say we hit up a new queer bar I found? I’ll buy you a drink.
” She smiles at me mischievously and I raise an eyebrow.
“Does this new bar happen to have an attractive bartender you are hoping to ogle, or maybe even fuck?”
Her grin widens. “A lady has needs.”
I groan and roll my eyes, then make the mistake of looking back at her as she gives me a pouty lip and big pleading hazel eyes.
Fuck. “We haven’t been out since your breakup and you know it would be good for you.
Maybe you’ll find a gorgeous woman with big tits that can take your mind off of Stacy, if I don’t snag her first.”
I groan louder. “Jesus Christ, I wasn’t even thinking about Stacy.”
She eyes me.
“Okay, maybe I was thinking about her a little bit,” I admit.
I honestly don’t know that I miss her, per se, but I do miss having someone.
I’m not so desperate that I want to get involved with just anyone though.
I don’t mind casual sex, but I also really like the idea of meeting the right girl and having more.
I want commitment and forever, and the knowledge that I’m the best thing in her life, just like she is in mine, not just a passing fancy.
“So, come on,” she pleads again, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Fine,” I acquiesce. “Just let me finish cleaning up and I’ll meet you there. I’m not going out in scrubs.”
“Clearly, darling,” she says, and winks at me.
“Wear those jeans that hug your ass okay? Gotta show off the assets. I’ll text you the address.
” She disappears and I finish tidying the space before closing up and making my way to my car; a black 1967 Chevy Impala (the same car Dean drives in Supernatural ) because yes, I’m that obsessed.
I head home and take a quick shower, then change into my ass hugging jeans and a long sleeved off white button up that I leave untucked and roll the sleeves up on. I tie my hair up in a messy bun again and grab my jacket before heading out the door to meet Peyton.
When I arrive at the address she texted me I park my car and climb out. I often tag along with Peyton to gay bars, more to be her wingman than to find someone for myself. This place is called Johnny’s .
She said she’s here and found a table so I head inside and scan the room for her.
It’s a nice place. A mixture of high top tables and booths resting on gleaming hardwood floors, and the soft, dim lighting invites a relaxed atmosphere, as a country song about riding something I’m fairly certain isn’t a horse, plays overhead.
Peyton spies me and waves and I make my way to where she’s sitting at one of the high top tables. She’s dressed in an off the shoulder long-sleeved shirt and skinny jeans and she’s sipping on a soda when I slide into the seat across from her.
“You look nice,” she chirps, and grins at me.
I just shake my head as someone stops at our table. A young man with dark hair and pale skin. The name tag on his shirt says Tommy, and manager, underneath.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, looking at me.
“Just a beer,” I say. “Whatever’s on tap.”
He nods and looks to Peyton. “And you?”
“Gin and tonic please,” she says with a smile, and he scurries away.
“Is that the guy?” I ask.
She sighs. “Alas, no. I haven’t actually seen him yet.
I was here the other night with the book group, though, and oh my goodness.
” She fans her face and I chuckle. Peyton has lived in Massachusetts longer than I have and she’s made friends through a queer book group and her former workplace.
She’s introduced me to everyone and I enjoy them well enough, but Peyton is my ride or die, and I prefer just spending time with her. Plus, I don’t really read.
My best friend is a bit of a slut, and I don’t mean that in a bad way.
She just enjoys sex a lot, with both men and women, and is on the prowl more often than not.
She’s gorgeous, with long brunette waves and hazel eyes.
Sparsely scattered freckles adorn her pale skin and she has a captivating smile.
Most people who see us together assume we’re dating, or have at least hooked up, but we’ve only ever been friends.
And we’ve both promised that if the person we’re dating can't handle our friendship and see it for what it is, they aren’t right for us because we are not going to lose each other over someone else’s insecurity.
Our drinks arrive shortly and we sip on them while we chat, after which she slides off of her chair and grips my hand, pulling me with her onto the dance floor.
It’s not long after that a woman about our age taps Peyton’s shoulder and whispers in her ear.
Peyton grins and turns to face her as the other woman’s hands grip her hips.
I excuse myself and return to our table, watching my friend and the rest of the couples, taking a few more sips of my drink.
“Hello,” I hear, and turn to see a beautiful blonde woman next to me, dressed in a very short dress that showcases her gorgeous legs and is also cut low enough that an ample amount of cleavage is visible.
God, normally I would be getting hard just looking at her, but it’s not happening tonight.
So when she runs her hand along my arm and asks if I want to dance, I politely tell her, no thank you.
She frowns but moves on, and I sigh as Peyton returns to our table.
“What was that?” she asks. “You sent her away? She was practically undressing you with her eyes.”
“I know. I just don’t feel like it tonight,” I admit.
“Why not?”
I bite my lip, staring at my drink. “Do you think Stacy cheated on me because I was bad in bed?”
There’s silence, and when I look at Peyton she’s frowning and her eyes are narrowed, arms crossed over her chest. “I think she cheated on you just because she’s a selfish cunt.
She never treated you right. She always took advantage of your kind nature.
And you deserve so much better than that.
If she wasn’t satisfied with your sex life there are a million things she could have done other than cheat. ”
“I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better, wondering. I don’t want to get out there again and humiliate myself.”
Peyton sighs and gives my arm a squeeze.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but if you aren’t comfortable with it, you aren’t comfortable with it.
You don’t have to rush back out there. I just don’t want you sitting here convincing yourself that you’re the problem, because you aren’t. ”
I nod. But before I can get another word out Peyton is gripping my arm so tightly I grimace, as she squeals like a fucking school girl. “He’s here!”
“What?” I yank my arm away from her vice-like grip and turn towards the bar where she’s staring with fucking heart eyes, only for my heart to drop into my stomach as the blood leeches from my face.
“Shit!” I gasp, sliding out of my chair and grabbing Peyton’s small frame, hauling her in front of me as the guy’s gaze flits around the room and I duck behind my best friend.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Peyton hisses, looking back at me. “Are you drunk already?”
“No, I’m not drunk,” I hiss back. “That’s him.”
She turns towards the bar again, and then back at me. “That’s him? The guy who Stacy cheated on you with?”
I nod. “Yes, and I can’t let him see me. It was fucking horrible enough the first time.”
“Oh, boy,” Peyton mutters. “Hon, if your goal is to not be seen, I think picking your five-foot-two friend to hide behind is a bad choice.”
“Shh, we have to go. Just move sideways towards the door so he doesn't see me.”
“Oh my God,” Peyton sighs. “You can’t be serious.”
“Very. Now go.” Peyton grabs our coats off the back of our chairs and then does as I ask, as I stay crouched with my hands gripping her waist and we make our way slowly across the bar and towards the door.
I let out a relieved sigh once we’re outside in the chilly night air, and take my jacket from Peyton before sliding it on, just thankful that What’s His Name didn’t see me, because running into him again, after how fucking awkward it was the first time, would just make all of this shit with Stacy ten times worse.