FOUR

 

What was he even supposed to wear to something like this? It wasn’t like he had a closet full of dance clothes to choose from, and even if he had, wouldn’t that be a little bit too formal for this?

Jamie’s fingers plucked at his own thigh, rubbing at the fabric of his worn old sweatpants. They had started life as a jet black, but through the years, they’d faded into a dull, charcoal gray. They were the only thing that he had, that and a white tank top, that would be even remotely appropriate for this dance lesson.

What would Lance, who had been impeccably pulled together, think about this outfit? How disgusted would he be? Jamie knew that he looked like a complete mess, his hair tied back into a ponytail with wavy reddish strands escaping all over the place, as impossible to tame as always.

But he wasn’t there to impress Lance, he reminded himself, and he forced himself to stop plucking at the worn, soft fabric of his pants. He stilled his fingers with an effort, only to find himself tugging again.

Damn it. These pants couldn’t take that sort of treatment. He was going to wear a hole right through them, but he couldn’t seem to stop it, either.

Nervously, he glanced at his phone, looking at the time once more. He kept checking because he was completely sure that it must have been at least half an hour since the last time, but it had only been five minutes, and Lance wasn’t late. He was due any second.

Slowly, Jamie rose to his feet, stretching out his slender body and looking at himself critically in the silvery mirrors which were all around him, reflecting his own pale, scared face and too slim body back at him. He struck a pose, one he remembered from dance all of those years ago, and he was surprised by how it felt both utterly foreign and completely familiar all at once.

Part of him remembered, though, because it didn’t look half bad. Jamie examined himself critically, shifting his hips, his feet, in a dance routine that he’d learned years and years ago, one that he had never thought he would do again.

“Huh. That’s pretty good,” someone said from the door, one of the only areas of the room that Jamie couldn’t see in the mirror. He whirled, surprised, his heart pulsing a staccato, rapid beat in his chest, only to see that Lance had arrived and was watching him, one hand on his hip and his green eyes narrowed as he appraised Jamie.

Unconsciously, Jamie raised his chin high and forced himself to meet Lance’s gaze without shying away. His days of being shamed were over—he reminded himself. The last remnants of that Jamie, the one who avoided looking anyone directly in the eye, the one who was so scared of what people thought of him, that Jamie had fully died when he’d walked out of his demeaning, pointless, dead-end job.

He had nothing to be ashamed of. Though it was undoubtedly a relief when he saw that Lance was wearing something not so dissimilar from what Jamie had thrown on, sweats and a tight tank top. It was just that Lance, with his broad shoulders and strong chest, filled it out a little bit more than Jamie did.

It wasn’t fair, really. Lance was so beautiful, and so off limits. Jamie was not the sort of person who would ever encourage anyone to cheat. It just wasn’t him. And it had been very clear that Lance and Ken were dating. It didn’t matter that Ken seemed to dislike Jamie for no reason, he still wasn’t going to hurt the guy by making a move on his boyfriend.

Not that it wasn’t tempting. The way that Lance moved, his slow, languid, sensual grace, like a tiger stretching, it was fascinating. Jamie somehow knew that Lance would be incredible in bed, just from the way he moved his beautiful body through the world. He moved like he knew how to use that body, and it was far too easy to get caught up in daydreams about what it would be like to be on top of him, straddling him, riding him, or slipping deep inside of him …

Jamie shifted uneasily. He couldn’t go getting an erection, the loose material of the sweats would hardly cover that.

“Uh …” Jamie struggled and then regained his poise. He hoped. “Thanks. So are we gonna do this or what?”

Lance moved toward him, head tilted to the side, hair tied back, much like Jamie’s was. Jamie froze in place, wondering if Lance was going to touch him, hoping that he would but also hoping that he wouldn’t because how was he supposed to resist if he did?

But Lance walked right past him, pulling a duffel bag from his shoulder as he went. He pulled out a speaker system, plugged it in, and then socked his fancy phone into place.

“Okay. Watch.” Music started, a pop song that Jamie recognized as a Lost Boys song, though not one that he had heard before. Was he actually listening to an unreleased song? A little thrill of pleasure, of pride, went through him as he realized that he probably was.

He did watch, and it was a pleasure to do so. Sure, Lance was with Ken, but that didn’t stop Jamie from staring. Not even close. There was no harm in just letting his eyes appreciate something beautiful, right? And Lance definitely qualified.

As he watched, Lance went through a quick succession of movements, flowing gracefully from one to the next, and Jamie felt a dull wash of envy, as well as frustrated desire, go through him. There was no doubt that Lance was a hell of a dancer, and there was no way that Jamie was going to be able to come close.

God, what had he gotten himself into? He closed his eyes and tried to pull himself together. They had picked him—he reminded himself. Everyone thought that he could do it.

But what if they were wrong? He had so little time to try to catch up with these other men, who had been working together for over a year. But what other choice did he have, other than to try? Go back and beg for his job from his repulsive old boss? Or find a new one, every bit as bad?

Determination filled him, and he took a deep breath as he opened his eyes again. Lance was looking at him, and Jamie bristled when he saw a look that he assumed was pity in those lovely eyes of his.

He didn’t need to be pitied. He wasn’t pathetic. So he walked over to Lance, standing beside him, and nodded his readiness to begin.

“Here, I’ll do it slowly,” Lance said, and his voice was kind. Jamie didn’t know if he was being patronized or not, suddenly, and he wished for the certainty that he’d had only seconds before. It was so much easier to get angry, resentful, to see Lance as an obstacle.

They went through the sequence of moves a few times, and Jamie’s body felt strange, his feet as heavy as if he had had a thick layer of concrete attached to the bottom of his feet. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to move as gracefully as Lance.

The more he tried, the more frustrated he got until his jaw was set so tightly that he felt his teeth grinding together, his eyes half closed as he tried to follow Lance’s smooth movements. But it was all for nothing. He concentrated too much on his feet, and as he tried to do a turn which Lance had made look so easy, he got caught up in himself and ended up on his knees, humiliated, hating himself, hating Lance. Hating his body for not knowing how to do this.

“Jamie?” Was that the first time he’d heard his name on Lance’s lips? He was pretty sure it was, and he felt his eyes burn, his heart desperately reaching for comfort, any comfort. He looked up at the other man and saw that Lance had offered his hand to help him up.

It would be stupid not to accept that help, especially when his knees were a bit sore, maybe even bruised, by his undignified tumble to the ground. Awkwardly, he grasped Lance’s hand and pulled himself up, nodding his thanks as he clambered to his feet. He felt sort of like an elephant right then, whereas Lance was more like a gazelle, or like the hunting cat that Jamie had thought of before.

“It’s cool, man. You’re doing good,” Lance encouraged, and Jamie knew very well that the guy was lying. He had been there, after all, he had lived in his own body as he tried to force it to do these things.

But damned if he didn’t sort of appreciate Lance saying differently.

They stood together, face to face, and their eyes caught at each other’s again. Just like the very first time, once they were actually looking at each other, once the energy was flowing between them, sparks practically flying, electricity arcing from his gaze to Lance’s and back again, it was downright impossible for Jamie to make himself look away.

This man was dangerous. This whole situation was dangerous. Suddenly, Jamie wished that someone else, anyone else, had been picked to teach him to dance. It didn’t matter that Lance was the most qualified, any of them would do. Anything to keep him from these devastating looks.

“Here,” Lance said, and his eyes shimmered, almost seemed to glow with warmth, a warmth that Jamie felt echoed in the very pit of his stomach. It was just lust—he comforted himself. Lust was safe to feel. But even then, he sort of wondered if it could possibly be something more.

Before Jamie could react, Lance was moving around him, their eyes staying fixed on one another as long as they could. Lance’s tall, muscular, ripped body settled behind Jamie, making him feel so small, oddly safe and protected.

“Just feel the music,” Lance murmured, his voice low and with a soft, purring note of something that Jamie could swear was arousal resonating through it. Moments later, he became sure, as Lance’s arms wrapped around Jamie and his hips settled against Jamie’s ass like they belonged there.

Slowly, they turned together, performing the spin in place, and Jamie settled his arms on Lance’s, his palms against the back of Lance’s hands as they spun through the complicated turn.

It felt so easy when he was in Lance’s arms.

But damn it, he had ethics. He knew what was right and wrong, and being this close to someone who was so obviously aroused, that was wrong. At least it was when that person had a boyfriend. Jamie was no homewrecker, and he wrenched himself out of Lance’s arms before he could grind himself back on him and before he could beg him to take him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jamie demanded, putting his hands on his slim hips and glaring at the guy. He hadn’t gotten the sense that Lance was the kind of guy that would cheat, but Jamie supposed that was another lesson, as if he needed one, about judging a book by its cover and how he should really not trust his impressions.

“I was just teaching you …” But there was a guilty look on Lance’s face, like part of him, at least, had been doing it on purpose. The burning heat of anger flushed through Jamie, and he welcomed it. So much easier to feel angry than to have to deal with the desire that he had.

“Bullshit. I don’t fuck people who are already taken,” Jamie informed him, the anger giving him the strength to be blunt about it. “Try it again, and I’ll tell Ken.”

He would, too. Nothing really had happened so far between him and Lance, but that was only because he’d pulled away. Even with how annoyed he was, he had to admit that part of him wanted to go right back to Lance, as if it didn’t matter that he was taken, when, of course, it did.

“Taken?” Lance’s eyes looked confused, and Jamie, despite Ken’s obvious antagonism toward him, couldn’t help but feel bad for Lance’s boyfriend. Had Lance actually forgotten about him? Was that the sort of guy that he was?

“Yeah. Ken. Remember him? The man you were all over yesterday?” Jamie wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t. Besides, it seemed like he was probably better off with Lance being so off limits. It was damn hard to resist him as it was.

“Oh. Oh my God,” Lance’s eyes widened, and then, to Jamie’s shock and increased irritation, Lance actually started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the man, who seemed to be just short of hysterics. Idly, he wondered if he was going to have to call someone in to help him, but Lance eventually calmed down enough that he could speak.

“No, it’s just … you think I’m actually dating Ken?”

Jamie bit his lower lip, and another emotion joined the humiliation, the anger, that he was feeling. One which was, to be honest, far less welcome. It was hope. Hope that maybe, against all the odds, he’d read the situation wrong.

“I’m not dating Ken. Shit. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Lance sighed as he went over to the benches which lined the edges of the practice space, and, with only a brief hesitation, Jamie followed him. He kept a little bit of distance, but he still settled down beside the other man.

“… What?” Jamie tried to work that out in his head. Lance wasn’t dating Ken? But he wasn’t supposed to talk about it? That didn’t make any sense that he could see, not until Lance started to speak.

“Look, this is top secret, okay? But I don’t want you to think that I’m the sort of person who would cheat.” Lance looked over at him, and Jamie tried to steel his heart against the unwavering perfection of the meeting of their eyes. Even with that preparation, though, it hit him far too deeply.

“I won’t say anything,” Jamie promised, and Lance sighed and rubbed at his eyes before nodding and continuing on.

“Ken and I, we’re best friends. But there’s been some issues with the band and some bad fan reaction to me, I guess because I was caught dating women or whatever? Did Lester tell you about how you’re not allowed to date anyone that he doesn’t approve of before you signed up?”

Jamie frowned and then nodded slowly. It hadn’t seemed to matter that much to him, since he wasn’t planning on dating anyone, anyway. Getting over Dom had been a long process, and he wasn’t sure that he was ready. So signing that away really hadn’t seemed like much of a hardship.

“Well, for me, it goes further. I have to look like I’m in a relationship with someone. With Ken.” Lance made an adorable little face, his straight, gorgeous nose crinkling up a little. “Which is incredibly weird, let me tell you. He’s never been anything but a friend to me, but it’s what I have to do.”

Jamie’s head whirled as he tried to make sense of that. The thing was, it made a certain, weird sort of sense. He’d certainly noticed that Lester seemed to like to have a lot of control, so it didn’t seem very out of character for him to pull something like this.

“So the whole thing with Ken …” Jamie wasn’t sure he liked the hopeful tone in his voice. How eager he was to believe Lance, but he didn’t see a lie in Lance’s eyes.

“Yeah. It’s fake. He’s my fake boyfriend,” Lance told him, and Jamie looked down, his eyes shutting once more as he let himself just breathe through the surge of pleasure that gave him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jamie whispered, and his voice came out with a plaintive ring to it that he utterly hated. “Please. Don’t lie. Are you actually dating Ken? Because if I find out that you are …”

Jamie, with his eyes closed, felt rather than saw it when Lance moved. Strong, perfectly calloused fingers caressed his chin, making him look up, and Jamie did the bravest thing that he had ever done and opened his eyes once more, opening himself up to the vulnerability of their shared gaze, the electric current which ran between them.

“I’m not lying. Ken’s my friend. That’s all he is.” Lance’s voice was sincere, Jamie would swear to it. Or something in him, anyway, must have believed him, been desperate to believe him, since he found himself moving before he had consciously decided to do so.

Swinging a leg over Lance’s thighs, Jamie settled on his lap, facing him, his fingers tangling in Lance’s hair and tugging it free of the elastic which held it back. He’d been fascinated by that hair the day before, how soft it looked, and he found that it was even softer, silkier and more luxurious, than he even would have thought.

Jamie noted that Lance’s arms came around him, his hands on Jamie’s lower back and perilously close to the swell of his ass. Jamie’s breath caught in his throat, and he went for it. He made the leap, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Lance’s.

It was a kiss which Lance seemed to be expecting. His lips parted immediately, and his tongue swept out to press over the seam of Jamie’s lips, but he didn’t demand entrance like Jamie was used to. Rather, it coaxed his mouth open, and shivers of desire, of need, shimmied through his body as their tongues met and danced, as they explored each other’s mouths.

At that moment, there was just them, just the kiss. Ken wasn’t something they needed to worry about. They could deal with it later. Sure, Lester wouldn’t be happy if he found out, but that seemed dim to Jamie, irrelevant. Something to be dealt with some time when his body wasn’t throbbing, aching, beating with heat that spun and built between the two of them.

This might be the only time they could do this, and that just made Jamie want more. Made him want to push this as far as he could, to get as much of this beautiful man as he could before he lost him.