THREE

 

Somehow, even the desire for a nicotine fix was suddenly not enough to get Lance to leave the theater. Seconds ago, he had wanted nothing more than to leave, to run from the awkwardness of the moment, to lose himself in the simple, sinful pleasure of his habit, but now, it felt like nothing could pull him away.

What had that even been? That moment, with the beautiful redhead who had looked up into his eyes as boldly as if he had the right to? Or was it just that he had felt what Lance had felt, that it was just the right thing for them to do for that look to happen, for it to linger on, maybe forever.

Forcing a shaky breath, Lance went back over to Ken, who had also, it seemed, decided to stay. He fell into a seat beside his best friend, and the man who was, apparently, his fake boyfriend, and closed his eyes for a moment as though he could somehow erase the way that those crystal blue eyes had etched into his very brain.

“What the hell was that?” Ken asked, and it was very annoying because Ken could be so oblivious to so many things. Why couldn’t he have missed that look? Though maybe that was too much to ask since he hadn’t really been that far away from Lance at all.

“Nothing,” Lance murmured, opening his eyes to glance at his best friend, before finding them drawn inexplicably back to the stage, where Jamie was standing. If he was nervous, there was no sign of it, no hint of it in his face as he looked around like he owned the joint and then burst into song.

God. His voice, sweet and seductive, a purring, gorgeous study in contradictions. Both beautiful and slightly husky, a little bit smoky, he threw himself utterly into his song and his body inclined toward the microphone, his lips so close to it that it was downright suggestive.

Those lips. So very full, so seductive. Everything about this pretty much screamed sex, dirty, intense, hot fornication, and Lance squirmed in his seat. He could far too easily get aroused from this.

The theater was silent, other than this man’s voice. No one spoke. No one dared to break the spell. Lance had heard quite a few other people singing today, but no one had been on the same level as this man. This Jamie. Not even close.

Lance rubbed at his temples, giving himself a pep talk. It was just attraction. He’d been attracted to people before. This was nothing. Only it didn’t feel like nothing, but maybe that was just because it had been so long since he’d genuinely felt it.

Even Ken was silent, and when Lance snuck a little look over at Lester, he could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. Shit. This was going to happen, wasn’t it? He was going to be stuck with the most gorgeous man that he’d ever seen, the person, male or female, that he’d been instinctively drawn to the most, and it was going to be a special sort of hell because he could never go there.

Not only because of Lester’s stupid plan, either. Ken was his friend, and friendship meant something to Lance. And Ken was never going to be able to be happy about something like this, Lance yearning toward the newest member of their band. Maybe, by some miracle, someone else would be chosen, but the truth was that Lance knew that was futile even before Lester offered Jamie the spot.

With a confident smirk, the beautiful man jumped down off the stage, his pale skin gleaming with sweat. He’d had freckles, Lance remembered, with a pang of sensation that was almost more intense than arousal. Scattered across his sweet, slightly upturned nose, a sprinkling of cinnamon on his milky skin.

Jamie was talking to Lester now, and, to Lance’s surprise, his boss turned and speared him with the intensity of his dark eyes.

“Lance. Come here.”

Oh God. Ken had noticed the look that Lance and Jamie had shared. Had Lester, too? Was Lester going to tell him off for it, right in front of everyone? Lance wasn’t sure that he could handle that, and, with a feeling of dread, he slouched over to where Jamie was standing, and Lester, too. Only Lester, suddenly, seemed much less of a threat, and way less important.

Jamie had come alive on that stage. He’d been a gorgeous man before he was on it, but once he was performing, he was sex incarnate. Traces of that still clung to him, in the arrogant set of his lips and in the way his head was just slightly cocked to the side, smirking at Lance as though he knew exactly what he was doing to his libido.

Once more, their eyes met, and Lance forced his gaze away. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t let himself get lost, because he was going to be working with this guy and he had to keep his hands off of him.

“You were a little bit weak on the dancing. The basis is there, but my guess is that it’s been awhile since you did that regularly,” Lester was saying, as he put his hand in the small of Lance’s back and tugged him into their conversation.

“Sure,” Jamie spoke, and his voice was every bit as lovely spoken as it was in song. “No big deal, I’ll pick it up in no time.”

Well. The guy certainly didn’t lack for confidence. He came off as almost arrogant, though Lance could swear there had been vulnerability in his big blue eyes when they’d first met. But it had only been a few seconds, ten at most, even if it had felt almost like a year.

“Jamie, this is Lance. Lance, Jamie,” Lester introduced, and somehow, Lance managed to steel himself enough that he could look at Jamie like a normal person and simply nod a greeting to him.

“Hey,” Lance said, and Jamie smirked and nodded back.

“Lance is the strongest dancer in the group,” Lester informed Jamie. “He’s going to bring you up to speed, and fast, because we leave on tour in two weeks. I hope you’re ready.”

Jamie gave a little shrug, tossing those beautiful, bright curls back as if to say, of course he was ready. Meanwhile, Lance was pretty sure that this had to be just about the worst thing that had ever happened to him, because he had to resist this guy somehow and it was far too compelling to think about dancing with him, pressing against him, getting hot and sweaty with him …

When it came down to it, most dancing was pretty much just sex. Clothed, publicly acceptable sex. Or that was what Lance had always felt.

“Ken’s better …” Lance protested because he knew very well that Ken would have no problem keeping his distance from Jamie. It was very clear already that Ken disliked Jamie, and would, in fact, have disliked anyone that was picked to join the band.

“No. Ken has more energy, but you’re better,” Lester said, and it wasn’t a compliment. It was just a statement of fact, and one that Lance, unfortunately, knew was actually true. He’d been involved in dance his whole life, and, for him, it was actually the singing that he’d had to pick up.

“You’re going to turn him into a dancer, and you’re going to do it before we go on tour,” Lester told him, while Lance shook his head in disbelief. They had choreographers, of course, and that would help, but it was still a pretty big thing to put on him.

Then Lester, having issued his decree, was gone, and Jamie and Lance were alone. Lance found himself worrying at his lower lip, looking at Jamie, who had his head thrust back almost defiantly and was staring back.

It was a different sort of moment between them. Jamie, doubtless, had seen Lance’s hesitation about teaching him, and if Lance didn’t know better, he could almost swear that he saw hurt on his face.

How long that look might have gone on, Lance didn’t know. All he really knew was that someone had come up to him and was hugging him from behind, before slipping around him to press a kiss on his cheek. Ken. It was Ken, who was smirking at him and who shot him a wink.

“C’mon, babe,” Ken said, his voice overemphasizing the last word. “You have better things to do than hang out with this guy. Like me.”

Lance rolled his eyes. Ken was really getting into the act, and he wanted to tell his best friend that he didn’t need to be quite as enthusiastic, but he supposed he should be grateful that Ken was doing it at all. Besides, there was probably no sense in holding back, since they were trying to let everyone in the world know that it was going on.

“Hold on, handsome,” Lance said, smirking back at Ken. He wanted to turn up the heat? Well, Lance could go along with that. If he was going to do this stupid thing, he might as well do it right.

Turning back to Jamie, he saw that the smirk on his face had gone wider than ever, and his eyes were almost scornful. What was that all about? It wasn’t like someone in a band like the Lost Boys, who were all supposed to be openly queer, was likely going to be homophobic.

Lance shrugged it off with an effort. Who cared what Jamie thought about him? If Ken had his way, Jamie wouldn’t be around for very long, anyway.

“Give me your phone,” he told Jamie, and he handed his own over. “And put your number into this. I’ll text you, and we can set up a time to meet, maybe tomorrow.”

Ken was by his side, practically vibrating with impatience, but that was fairly normal for Ken, so Lance ignored it. The guy was probably just eager to get Lance alone so that he could complain about Jamie in a more private place. Even Ken was tactful enough not to go into it right where everyone could hear.

Jamie tapped his number into Lance’s phone and then handed it back.

“I didn’t bring mine. Just text me, and then you’ll have my number,” Jamie directed, which struck Lance as a little weird. Who didn’t bring their phone everywhere in this day and age? And hadn’t he seen Jamie shove something, Lance would have assumed a phone, into his pocket as they’d collided for the first time?

Whatever. Why would the guy lie about that? Lance accepted his phone back and waved a casual—he hoped—goodbye to Jamie before he slung his arm around Ken’s strong shoulders.

“Later,” he forced his voice to be offhand like it was no big deal to him. That he didn’t care that he and this man, who Lance was far too drawn to, were going to be forced together.

He would just have to hope, to cross his fingers, that Jamie didn’t feel even a fraction of what Lance did. He had always been able to guard his heart, or, at least, for the last five years since he’d lost Amy, he had. This was no different, or so he desperately tried to assure himself.

But those crystalline eyes haunted him. They weren’t just etched into his brain. It felt like they were in his heart, in his very soul. That connection, it had been nothing. It had been in his imagination only.

So then why did he feel like it had been the one true thing that had happened to him in his life? Why did it feel like that moment had been the only pure thing that he’d ever experienced?

He wasn’t even sure he liked Jamie. The guy came off as incredibly cocky, full of himself, and honestly, that had never been the sort of person that Lance had been attracted to. It seemed that Jamie was an exception.

Not that it mattered. All Lance had to do was keep in mind all of the many, many reasons that he and Jamie could never work, and he would be able to keep his distance.

“Man, can you even believe that guy?” Ken asked, shaking his head as they left the theater together, arms wrapped around each other. How long until that felt normal? How long until he stopped feeling so damn weird about touching Ken?

He had always liked Ken, and they were affectionate enough, but they had never been the sort of friends who were all over each other all the time or anything. Did this feel as strange to Ken as it did to Lance?

“No,” Lance told him, completely sincerely. “I can’t believe him at all.”

Only he knew very well that he didn’t mean it in the same way that Ken did. Ken hated the guy, would have, in fact, hated anyone that tried to come into the band, no matter how nice they were. And whatever Lance could say about Jamie, the word nice wouldn’t have occurred to him.

Whereas Lance. Lance thought about the fullness of his ripe lips, the shine in his shimmering eyes, the cocky tilt of his head and the way his whole body had inclined toward Lance during that endless moment when they’d been staring at each other.

Probably happened to Jamie all the time. It was probably just the other man’s inherent flirtatious nature. But Lance couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how he tried.

Well, he was just going to have to try harder. Try until he made it. Try until he couldn’t mentally trace the shapes and colors of Jamie’s face in his mind’s eye, and he stopped thinking about what color he’d use to paint those beautiful, large, deep blue eyes.

He hadn’t painted in years, but something about Jamie made him want to. Just one more sign of how dangerous the man was.