CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“This is a really big deal,” Eric said, reaching out to smooth down the collar of Wyatt’s shirt.

Ryan had to stop himself from pushing Eric’s hands away, and doing it himself. He wasn’t sure if Wyatt’s eye roll was more to do with Eric stating the obvious or Eric invading his personal space.

“Believe me, I’m aware,” Wyatt retorted dryly, at the same time, shucking the hand off his collar with a shrug of his shoulder.

So, maybe both.

Ryan wished that Eric hadn’t decided that he needed to show up to give them a last-minute pep talk on their first public outing, because he had a few much more fun ideas to give everyone the indelible impression he and Wyatt were definitely together.

But apparently showing up with their hair and clothes messed up, looking like they’d just fucked on the car didn’t give the impression Eric was looking for.

Ryan maintained it still would’ve been a lot more fun than the lecture they were currently receiving.

“I don’t want you to spend the whole evening together,” Eric continued, even though Ryan knew he was barely paying any attention and Wyatt had clearly tuned him out altogether. “Constantly hanging on each other gives the idea that you’re insecure in your relationship.

“The car will be here any minute. I just spoke to the event concierge at Temple, she’s going to make sure you guys have a great time, and will let you know when there’s something you need to participate in.” He paused, and Ryan thought for one miraculous second that Eric was done talking, but then he kept going. “It goes without saying that you need to both be on your best behavior tonight. Have a few drinks, but don’t get drunk. No crazy antics. No semi-public sexual exploits.”

“Awwww, there goes everything I wanted to do,” Ryan teased and to his disappointment, Wyatt’s expression didn’t change. Instead of the melting smile that he’d grown to expect, Wyatt looked stiff and nervous. Withdrawn, almost, which had been the norm since they got back from Napa a week ago. There’d been a few times when Ryan had really been able to get him to relax, and laugh with him like he had at the beginning—usually after a few beers or a really intense workout—and he still approached sex with a fierce intensity that Ryan definitely enjoyed.

More than once, he’d considered asking Wyatt what was wrong, but in his head, that conversation fell exclusively into the “relationship” category, and since he couldn’t go there, he avoided it.

Eric shook his head, amused despite his own lecture, and went to go see if the car had arrived yet, finally leaving them alone. Maybe Ryan couldn’t ask Wyatt what was wrong, but he could make sure this was still something he wanted to do. It was hard to doubt that Ryan was still something he wanted, because the sex was so raw and consuming, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Is this still okay?” Ryan asked, turning towards the other man. Wyatt looked up, surprise in his expression.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Ryan might be a baseball player, but he wasn’t dumb. Even he knew that answering a question with a question was a great way to deflect.

“You just seem quiet, that’s all,” Ryan observed. It occurred to him suddenly that he’d made this exact same comment before they’d gone skydiving.

Ryan didn’t think he was getting bored; the very nature of their relationship was designed so he wouldn’t, so he couldn’t get bored, but maybe Ryan had miscalculated?

Maybe even though they weren’t technically in a relationship, they were doing too many relationship-like things—like going to Napa, spending time with Flor and Wyatt’s nana and his brother, going to brunch, now this couples outing to Temple.

Boredom was something that wasn’t allowed to happen. Ryan couldn’t let him pull away, and not only because of the fake relationship that Wyatt had committed to, but because the more Wyatt retreated, the more attached Ryan realized he’d become.

He needed to fix this, because whatever this was, because it definitely had morphed into something more than Ryan had ever anticipated or expected.

“It’s gonna be great,” Ryan said, feeling stupid because he kept saying that and he wasn’t sure that Wyatt believed him anymore.

But Wyatt smiled this time, and pulled him close, and brushed a brief kiss across his lips. “It will,” Wyatt agreed, “I’m just disappointed we couldn’t take the bike. Re-enact the night we met.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Ryan said, hating the hope that bloomed through his system. All he wanted was to get back to how good they were together. The fantastic sex they were having should have been enough—it had always been enough before—but now he wasn’t sure. They were missing something else; Wyatt was holding it back, and even though Ryan didn’t know what it was, he craved it anyway.

“The car’s here,” Eric announced in the foyer.

Ryan slipped his hand into Wyatt’s, and gave him a bright smile. “Let’s do this,” he said.

———

The concierge, Anne-Marie, met them at the private back entrance of the club. Eric had decided, in his fake-relationship wisdom, that it would be better for the photographers to get them on the way out of the club, instead of heading in.

Ryan didn’t know why this was, but he’d learned to save his energy to argue with Eric on the major points, not the minor ones.

“Around midnight, we’ll bring you up to the stage, as you’re our VIP hosts for the evening,” Anne-Marie said, as they walked into the back of the dim club.

“What are we supposed to do?” Wyatt asked.

“On stage?” Anne-Marie questioned as she tucked a strand of bright-red hair behind her ear. “Whatever you like. Dance. Kiss. Each other? The dancers?” She waved a hand. “You two are so cute, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, like this wasn’t something they heard all the damn time. Like it wasn’t something they had planned.

“I mean, your Insta pictures are so gorgeous, like some sort of fairy tale,” Anne-Marie said. “And obviously, yeah, you set them up to look that way, but there’s a truth in them that you don’t see very often. I can tell you’re both very fond of each other.”

She turned to them. “I’ll escort you to the VIP booth now, if that’s okay?”

Ryan was officially pathetic. He wanted to beg her to tell him more about how they cared about each other, even while he argued with himself that caring about each other had never been the point of this. They were only supposed to seem authentic, while having great sex, but something had gotten crossed along the way.

“Sure, yeah, that’ll be great,” Ryan said when Wyatt stayed quiet.

The VIP area was the exact same one that Ryan had occupied the night he’d gone looking for a fake boyfriend and had found his personal chef instead.

He wanted to ask Anne-Marie if that was something Eric had arranged, but decided against it because it exposed too much of his nostalgia and stupid feelings in front of Wyatt.

“I’ll see that the waiter brings over your bottle service,” Anne-Marie said, as they settled on the plush velvet couch. Wyatt looked way more comfortable than Ryan felt, but he tried to copy the other man’s relaxed posture. The reason, Ryan realized as Anne-Marie left, was because he’d never been here with another man before. Definitely not with one that he was pretending he was in a relationship with.

Definitely not one that he apparently had stronger feelings for.

When you fell in love with someone, Ryan reasoned as the waiter approached, you were supposed to feel excited and happy, not greet the discovery with dread. Except that was all he could feel, as he envisioned Wyatt growing bored, just as his ex had described, and then having zero choice but to seek excitement somewhere else. In someone else’s bed.

“Welcome to Temple,” the waiter said, and for the first time Ryan looked up at the man. He was dressed in a pair of tight black leather pants, riding low on his hips, his rippling obliques exposed, and a pair of black feathery wings. His light-blue eyes were rimmed with black, making them pop even more. He looked like a just-debauched fallen angel, which was just the sort of fantasy theater that Temple liked to indulge in.

There was no excuse except that the guy was objectively hot, there was undeniably interest in his baby blue eyes, and Ryan was both miserable and desperate.

“I feel like I must have died and gone to heaven,” he teased the waiter.

The waiter perched a hip on the edge of the couch, leaning in closer, and Ryan didn’t have to be looking at Wyatt to imagine his expression. “I’ll tell you a secret,” the angel murmured low, so Ryan had to scoot even closer to hear, “I got kicked out of heaven.”

Ryan heard Wyatt’s incredulous scoffing noise behind him, and yes, it was silly and ridiculous and over-the-top dramatic, but the guy was gorgeous and no doubt this was a very common fantasy.

“Were you very, very bad?” Wyatt asked from over Ryan’s shoulder, in a faux-serious voice. “I bet you were super naughty.”

The angel rolled his eyes, but his voice kept that faux-conspiratorial tone that had pulled Ryan into the fantasy from the first moment. “I discovered being bad is a lot more fun than being good.”

Ryan sympathized; he’d discovered this same thing himself, at sixteen. And at eighteen. And at twenty-one. And again, at twenty-five, when he’d been unable to stay away from Wyatt Blake.

It was a lesson he kept re-learning. Maybe it was a lesson he could re-learn tonight.

“That’s definitely a lesson we don’t need to be taught.” Wyatt sounded amused and vaguely interested and Ryan leaned back, tucking himself against Wyatt’s side. It wasn’t a shock when Wyatt’s arm curled around him. Protectively, Ryan told himself. Wyatt was jealous. Normally, Ryan hated dealing with jealous guys, but he’d take jealousy over boredom, especially if it was Wyatt.

“I’ll stay close,” the waiter said. “Just in case you need anything. Or need a refresher course.”

“We’ll take a few beers, too,” Ryan said, because he remembered Eric’s warning, and he might as well try to keep to one of his admonitions.

To Ryan’s surprise though, Wyatt bypassed the beers, and went to the bottles of liquor, pouring a few fingers of vodka into a glass, splashing in a little juice and nothing else.

“I thought he was flirting with you, at first,” Wyatt said, mouth drifting towards Ryan’s ear so he could hear him over the music, which was increasing in volume by the minute, “but actually I think he was flirting with both of us.”

Wyatt again proved how observant he was.

“I think so too,” Ryan said, sneaking in a little ear nibble as he turned to talk in Wyatt’s ear.

Wyatt shrugged. “He’s cute but the whole act is too much for me.”

Wyatt was always so damn straight forward, it wasn’t a surprise that the act was too theatrical for him. Ryan didn’t even like it all that much, but he intended to use it.

“I don’t know, cute goes a long way,” Ryan said, smiling up at him. “Let’s go dance.”

Wyatt threw the rest of his vodka back, and Ryan set his beer down. Wyatt caught up Ryan’s hand and they walked down the set of stairs to where the rest of the club was partying. Ryan intended to keep to the edges—after all, they needed to be seen, and not just because they were the VIP guests for the evening—but Wyatt took them deeper into the crowd. Ryan should have protested but he just followed.

“You didn’t dance last time you were here,” Wyatt observed, lips right against his as his hips ground into Ryan’s.

“You weren’t dancing,” Ryan retorted, hands gripping his shoulders firmly, and Wyatt just smirked back.

Wyatt had a natural rhythm that Ryan had already observed from their surfing sessions, and he was a decent dancer, though frankly most of what they were doing was pseudo-dry humping anyway. The crowd and the feeling of Wyatt’s hips grinding into his, hands a possessive brand on his back, creeping down towards his ass, raised his temperature quick, and after only a few songs, he felt damp all over. There was sweat slicked at Wyatt’s temple, and Ryan wanted to lick it up.

As one song changed to another, Ryan tugged Wyatt towards their VIP area, and he followed easily.

It was a little easier to talk when they were away from the pounding bass emanating from the speakers. Wyatt leaned down. “I think we should tell the angel that you’ve been very bad indeed.” Ryan could tell from their close proximity that Wyatt was hard in his jeans. He wanted to tell him, screw this, and let’s go home and screw me, but the voice in the back of his head whispered that he couldn’t let this go. He couldn’t let Wyatt become complacent and bored and end up in someone like the angel’s bed, only without Ryan.

Wyatt threw back another shot of vodka, this time with no juice, and Ryan opened the bottle of tequila with a quick wrench of his fingers. He’d just taken a shot and was sucking on a slice of lime when the angel waiter approached again.

“Need anything?” he asked. “Maybe some help with your shots?”

Wyatt’s eyes were blank as Ryan looked at the waiter.

“Sure, sounds like fun,” Ryan said carelessly. He couldn’t look at Wyatt as the guy reclined on the table, like a tempting buffet, and poured a shot of vodka right into his abs.

There was no backing out now, he could hear the whoops from the crowd, which meant they’d been spotted, and he couldn’t push him away.

Besides, he told himself as he leaned down, slurping the tequila off the guy’s skin, it was the least boring thing he’d done in ages.

The slice of lime was waiting for him in the angel’s mouth and he took it with his own, lingering for a long second. Ryan knew it was all part of the act and the fantasy the club provided, but there was undeniable interest flashing in his light-blue eyes. He wanted Ryan, and he’d probably even take Wyatt too, if that’s what it took.

“Can I get you anything else?” the angel asked huskily, partially sitting up. The tequila left his bare chest shiny and Ryan could see exactly where his tongue had been in the flashing lights.

And that was the real question. How far was Ryan willing to take this? How far was Wyatt willing to take this?

Anne-Marie chose this particular moment to return. Ryan was pretty sure it wasn’t even midnight on the nose, but certainly she’d been observing the activities with everyone else, and had decided the best time to drag them to the main stage was when the entire club was already watching.

“Time to go,” she said.

Ryan decided that she must have seen a lot of shit in her tenure because she barely batted an eyelash at what they’d been up to.

Before they went, Ryan turned back to the waiter. “Your name,” he asked. “And a dance when we get back.”

He could feel Wyatt tense next to him. “With both of us,” Ryan clarified, making sure that his intentions were clear.

“Alex,” he said, as he began to pile empty glasses on the tray. “And I’ll be around when you’re done.”

———

That was exactly what Wyatt was afraid of—that Alex would be there when they got back to the VIP area, and Wyatt would have to decide where he stood on the subject that Ryan had spent the whole evening hinting at.

It could have been worse, Wyatt thought as he climbed the stairs, trying to look calm and not nervous because he was about to get in front of about a thousand people, not because Ryan kept trying to set them up a threesome. Ryan could have dragged Alex up there to the stage with them and forced the decision in front of the entire club.

They got to the stage, and the DJ announced them. Wyatt kept a firm grip around Ryan’s hips, feeling zero compunction about pulling him a little rough towards him. Ryan leaned over and played it up, kissing him noisily on the cheek and then moving to his lips.

If this was happening, it was happening on his terms. Wyatt yanked Ryan even closer and made it even showier, playing to the crowd by dipping him low, and pouring all his frustration into the kiss. The noisy crowd faded away, giving way to a low roaring in his ears. He opened his eyes as the kiss finally ended, and Ryan was staring at him, an inscrutable expression on his face.

The DJ said more nonsense that Wyatt didn’t understand even though they were practically on top of one of the speakers, and then finally Anne-Marie led them down the stairs and off the stage.

But it wasn’t a solution, because they were still under the crowd’s microscope and Alex was waiting, an impatient look of excitement plain on his features, for them to collect him and give him the dance he’d been promised.

Maybe under different circumstances, Wyatt might have enjoyed dancing with him. Would have definitely entertained the threesome idea, but right now, it didn’t feel right. Not now. Not under these tenuous circumstances. Not when Wyatt felt five seconds away from grabbing Ryan back and keeping him all to himself.

The uncertainty was breeding jealousy and envy in him, and Wyatt didn’t like it, but he didn’t know how to exorcise it either.

Wyatt grabbed Ryan’s hand just before they were about to head up to the VIP area. “Wait,” he said loud enough that he could be heard even over the pounding bass of the music. “Wait. We need to talk.”

Ryan turned back to him, pulled his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you okay with this?”

The question was a challenge and it was stark black and white, with none of the shades of gray Wyatt knew were important. At least to him.

“We need to talk,” he repeated. Even though there was no possible way to talk in here. Not with the music and the strobe lights, and Alex practically hovering over Ryan’s shoulder.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d get away with it again, but Wyatt decided he was going to try anyway. He pulled Ryan’s hand back, and led him the same way he’d gone the first night they met, winding through the crowd and right out the front door, leading him past the bouncers and the eager partiers waiting to get in, down the street, and into the mouth of the alley they’d first spoken in a month ago.

Every second, Wyatt expected Ryan to pull away, to go back to the club, to go back to Alex. And that, Wyatt realized as quiet finally surrounded them, was a microcosm of the whole problem.

He didn’t trust Ryan not to break his heart. He didn’t trust Ryan to pull the parachute if things got hairy.

“What are we doing here?” Wyatt asked, the question spilling out before he could stop it. If Ryan’s earlier question had been a challenge, this was a demand.

“Drinking, partying? Eventually getting photographed and introducing all the housewives in the grocery store checkout line to our relationship?”

“I don’t want a cute answer,” Wyatt said. “I want the truth.”

“Keeping it fun. Keeping it exciting.” Ryan’s voice sounded brittle. Wyatt’s first instinct was to claim bullshit on that too, but he was beginning to think Ryan was actually telling the truth.

“Why can’t we have a drink and dance some and make out in the car on the way home, and have undeniably spectacular sex when we do? Isn’t that exciting enough for you?”

Ryan hugged himself and Wyatt wasn’t sure it was because of the temperature, which seemed mild enough, even for November.

“It’s always going to get boring. That’s what always happens.”

“Bullshit,” Wyatt retorted. “I jumped out of a fucking plane for you. If you want exciting, I’m going to give it to you, because I care about you. But I’m done playing games.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t understand.” Another lie. Wyatt found his normally moderate temper beginning to spike. The one thing he hated was being lied to, and Ryan was doing it a lot, and not just tonight.

“Sure, that guy in there is hot, I’m not going to deny it, but we don’t need him. Do you need him?”

“I . . . you don’t want to go home with him?” Ryan sounded incredulous. When Ryan had been the one flirting with him all night, not Wyatt.

“I want to go home with you,” Wyatt bit out.

“I’m not dumb,” Ryan sneered. “I don’t believe that you’ll want that forever. You’ll get bored, you’ll start looking, and someday you’re going to wish we took him home. And instead of the three of us, it’ll just be the two of you.”

“Tell me you don’t need that guy,” Wyatt said again. “Tell me you just want that guy, and we’ll figure this out. Because it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want.”

The look in Ryan’s eyes was pure stubbornness. “I want to have fun. I never want to be bored. Never again.”

It shouldn’t have hurt so much because he’d anticipated it, but it burned like hell anyway. “And I’d bore you, eventually,” Wyatt said quietly. “I get it. Thank you for being so clear.”

He turned to go, because he couldn’t stand there any longer and try to figure out which stupidity coming out of Ryan’s mouth were lies and which was the truth. But Ryan caught his arm. For a split second, Wyatt’s heart rose, because maybe now he would finally get the answers he wanted. Maybe he could finally break through this barrier that Ryan had insisted on erecting.

“Where are you going?” Ryan demanded. “We’re supposed to get photographed together.”

The hope hit the barrier straight on and crashed and burned. Because to Ryan, the games were all that mattered. He hadn’t even listened when Wyatt had tried to lay his heart on the line for him.

All he could do was shrug. “Go get the fucking angel to do it with you. I’m done.” And he walked out of the alley alone.

———

Ryan was still unsteady when he walked back into the club. The moment Wyatt had walked away, he’d wanted to run after him, and beg him not to give up on him.

But he’d been really fucking clear, hadn’t he? He’d laid out the details of the arrangement and had never given Wyatt any expectation that he would change the rules. And now that Wyatt wasn’t getting what he thought he wanted out of the deal, he was done?

Fuck that. Fuck him.

His temper had boiled over after that, leaving him raw and shaky, and clenching his hands over and over again, wishing for a bat to hold onto. To ground him. To beat against the most convenient stationary object.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to end like this.

He went back to Temple because he didn’t know what else to do. Marching back up to his VIP section, he unscrewed the lid off the tequila and took a shot from the bottle. He was buying it after all, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to with it.

“You okay?”

Ryan looked up and the angelic waiter was standing there, looking confused. Well, that made two of them. “Not really,” he admitted. He took another long swig of tequila and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was part of him that really wanted to take the angel home anyway. Keep Wyatt up all night with the sounds of their fucking. Make it crystal clear that whatever Wyatt thought Ryan felt, he was wrong.

The truth was, he didn’t know if Wyatt was wrong. Maybe Ryan was wrong. Maybe whatever they’d been doing was bound to crash and burn at some point. Nothing simple ever stayed simple, and even Ryan could acknowledge they’d crossed over into complicated awhile ago.

“You want a drink?” he asked Alex, extending the bottle towards him. “I probably shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

“Can’t, sorry, I’m working, and I’ll get fired if they catch it on the cameras,” Alex said apologetically.

Ryan took another long drink from the bottle, large enough for both of them. It suddenly occurred to him that while the interest in Alex’s eyes might have been genuine, he’d probably been paid to flirt outrageously with them.

It wasn’t so much different than Wyatt, who he was paying to be his boyfriend and to cook cute, couple-y meals that he could post to his Instagram. But even then he knew it was a lie, because even though he’d been paying Wyatt since day one, money had never been part of what existed between them.

“Was that your boyfriend who left?” Alex asked, perching just on the end of the couch.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Ryan admitted. His total ignorance of the realities of the situation made him want to drink more. But he didn’t, because he’d learned a long time ago that getting drunk never really helped. Tomorrow morning he would wake up hungover and miserable and still fucking clueless.

Alex shrugged. It was clear he thought Ryan should go figure that situation out before trying to make threesomes with hot Temple waiters happen. And the galling part was that he was absolutely fucking right.

“I don’t suppose I can give you a ride back to my place,” Ryan said, even though he didn’t even want to. He wasn’t even sure anymore if Alex wanted to, but this situation was already so monumentally messed up, surely fucking it up more couldn’t make it worse.

“You’re cute. You’re rich. You’re famous. Normally, sure. But not tonight. Not when it’s not even me you’re thinking about.”

“We can just not think at all,” Ryan said, sounding a little desperate. The last thing he wanted to do was go home alone, and sit in his empty house, imagining the conversation if he went and knocked on Wyatt’s door.

Nothing good, that was for fucking sure. But the thought would tempt him all night.

The look Alex shot him was pitying. “You can’t turn that off,” he said, and got up to leave.

Ryan ended up alone on the couch in his VIP section, sipping his tequila, and trying to figure out how to text Eric that the photos tonight were off.

He’d composed version fifty-three of the message when instead, Eric texted him.

Why am I not hearing rapturous reports of your cute coupledom? Eric said.

Slight snag, Ryan texted back before he could lose his nerve. The tequila also helped with that. Photos tonight off.

He sent another text to call the car, and then turned his phone off, gripping the neck of the bottle of tequila.

Maybe waking up hungover would at least fuzzy up some of the extraneous feelings he was never supposed to have in the first place.