Shades of Darkness (Trials of Fear Book 2) Page 13

  Chapter Ten

  Adrian

  A whirlwind of emotions slammed into me as Rory spewed his speech. Shame, for my assumptions. Fear, because he was so forward, I didn’t know how to respond. Pity and sadness, because if what he was saying was true then he’d been dealt an even worse fate at the hands of bullies than I had.

  We weren’t in a counseling session, but for the first time since I’d met him, he was opening up. Whatever had caused his fear of sunlight was directly related to an incident from his college days. Something had happened at the hands of bullies that had nearly cost him his life. The gears in my brain kicked in, and with them, a million questions surfaced.

  “Can you tell me what you’re dealing with at home?” Rory asked.

  I stared from his face to the table’s surface where his sunglasses sat. Our beers were half gone, and I wondered how many levels of wrong it was to be contemplating extracting information from him at a bar when alcohol was involved. Where were the defining lines of friendship versus counselor? How unprofessional were my motives?

  What were his?

  I raised my gaze back to his face. He’d lowered his hood, exposing his brilliant red hair which was gelled back, exposing the shaved sides. He’d allowed his facial hair to grow some, and the rusty scruff against his pale skin was attractive in a way I didn’t expect.

  I’d never explored relationships. Ever. Too much pressure was put on my grades, and with my father’s constant reminder of distractions, I’d never chanced having a boyfriend. Not that there had been anyone remotely interested in me in my entire life. It left me in a position where I didn’t even know exactly what I liked in a man—because, God knows, porn didn’t count. Those men were crazy buff and completely unachievable for a guy like me.

  Rory was… definitely something I liked. But again… unachievable.

  And one hundred percent NOT ALLOWED!

  Did I want to lose my job?

  I considered his question. Did I want to share about my roommates? It would certainly be nice to have someone on my side for a change. If I built trust with Rory, maybe in time, he’d come around, and I wouldn’t need to pry information out of him.

  “Okay.” I guzzled down a few more big mouthfuls, shuddering at the acrid taste of beer. I was beginning to think I wasn’t a fan. “Yeah, I have a big problem with my roommates. Two of them, really. Marcus isn’t always so bad. He doesn’t defend me or stop them, but he doesn’t necessarily participate either. Dylan and Calvin are worse.”

  “How long have you lived with them?”

  “Four years. Since I started college.”

  “Why don’t you move?”

  I sighed and drained my beer, before shifting the empty mug on the table, sliding it through the puddle of condensation that had formed. “Because I’m an over-privileged brat living off of daddy’s dollar, and he won’t let me.”

  Rory chuckled, and I glared but reluctantly couldn’t hide my smile. “Yeah, I know, laugh it up. Poor me.”

  “I’m laughing at your description, not your situation. Do your parents know what’s going on?”

  “Yeah, sort of, but my father can’t wrap his big smart head around bullying. All my life, I came home with bruises and stories of how the kids at school treated me, but his response was to tell me to toughen up and don’t let it bother me. Like the only reason it was happening was because I was allowing it to happen.” I shook my head, suddenly wishing I had more disgusting beer to drink.

  As though reading our minds, Rory’s friend Krew materialized beside our table, depositing two more drinks beside our empties. Only, instead of a beer, the one he sat in front of me was pink and served in a cocktail glass with a wedge of lime and a tiny straw.

  “I saw the way you choked down that beer, cutie. Rory doesn’t always get that not everyone enjoys the same things he does. Try the Cosmo, it’s way more fun and yummy as all hell. Plus, I made it a Krew special just for you.”

  Krew squeezed my shoulder in a sideways hug and pecked a kiss on my cheek before adding. “He is cute as a button, Rory. I approve.”

  Rory looked as though he was about to come out of his seat, but Krew was gone just as fast, weaving through the crowd and disappearing behind the bar to collect more drinks.

  “I’m so sorry. He doesn’t know the meaning of tone it down.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Rory clearly had told his friend we were on some kind of date, which I thought I’d made it clear it wasn’t. If word got out I was dating a client, my job would go up in flames.

  Before I could clarify, Rory cut in. “How bad is it?”

  My roommates. How bad was it? Basing it on my overall lifetime of being mistreated, it was definitely going downhill. They weren’t physically violent like the kids had been in grade school, but that didn’t make their actions any less impacting. Some days, I wished they’d shove my face into a concrete wall and call me a faggot instead of dying all my clothes pink or infecting my laptop with viruses that could potentially eradicate my school work. Bruises healed for free, buying new clothes or paying to get my computer de-virused was expensive.

  “Progressively worse lately. I got over letting name-calling bother me years ago, but when they try to get me fired from my job or mess with my personal belongings, then it starts eating away at me.”

  Rory took in what I said as he sipped his new beer. I tried the new drink Krew had delivered and found it much more to my liking. When I sucked down half the glass in one go, Rory’s eyebrows winged up.

  “Go easy there, champ, or I’ll have to carry you home. That’s a lot more potent than that beer you had.”

  A whoop and ripple of laughter brought both our attention back to the game show. Apparently, bachelor number three had officially been chosen by Francois for a date night. He was so excited he’d pounced the poor guy, jumping up on him and flinging his legs around his waist. As Francois held him up, the delicate blond, whose name I never caught, searched over all the heads in the bar until he found Rory’s friend.

  “Hey, sexy barman, a couple Four Horseman for us right here, baby, and don’t forget to join us later for some fun, ya hear.”

  Krew blew kisses to the pair and must have agreed because the crowd cheered them on. I’d never hung out at a bar before, much less a gay bar, so I didn’t know if this was a typical night or not. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was kind of gratifying in a way to be in a place where I didn’t feel the need to hide.

  “Krew’s a slut, if you haven’t picked up on that yet,” Rory said, leaning in and whispering against my ear.

  When had he moved so close? I turned my head, and the room wavered at the motion. Woah, I was certainly feeling that Cosmo. What the hell was in that drink? How embarrassing to be buzzing on a beer and half a cocktail drink. What kind of a college student was I?

  Rory’s face was next to mine. He’d slid his chair closer and watched me as I took in the suddenly vibrant and pulsing bar, alive with more energy than I’d noticed a half an hour ago. He chuckled, and all I could do was look at him from behind dreamy eyes. He really was attractive. And I really was feeling that alcohol.

  “You all right?”

  “Wonderful. I don’t want to talk about my shitty roommates anymore. Tell me about you. Not your issues or anything like that, because I can’t be your counselor right now, but you. I just want to know you.”

  Oh God, I was slurring my words, wasn’t I? How was it I could hear how stupid I sounded, yet I couldn’t seem to shut up and not make an utter fool of myself. Was that what alcohol did to a person?

  Krew appeared again and deposited two more drinks in front of us. Only then did I realize, I’d finished my first Cosmo at some point. Yup, I was definitely screwed.

  “No more after this,” Rory told him. “Just let me square up, or the poor guy won’t make it home.”

  He handed Krew a credit card.

  “He’s only had two drinks.”

  “Yeah, and one of them wa
s a Krew special.”

  I balanced my chin in my hand and blinked up at Krew who hovered by our table looking innocent and smug all at the same time. “I don’t drink,” I informed him. “But you were right, this pink one is yummy.”

  In demonstration, I fit the straw in my mouth and sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks and swallowing multiple mouthfuls before Rory removed it.

  “Woah, woah, easy boy, remember?”

  I licked my lips of the sweet goodness and smiled freely at the two men. I liked gay bars. Why had I never done this before?

  Krew laughed—it was more of a giggle, really—and covered his mouth before shooting his gaze to Rory. “You’re welcome,” he whispered not so quietly as he slipped away.

  I shifted my bright smile to Rory and openly admired him.

  “You do web design, right?”

  He nodded with a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Why?”

  “When I graduate, will you make me a nice website for my practice? Something fancy, yet modern.”

  Rory laughed but willingly went along with my ramblings, helping me build a dream practice in my head with a webpage to match. It was the most ridiculous conversation, but I blamed that on the alcohol making my usually smart brain into a pile of mush. No wonder my father was so against drinking.

  After our newly delivered drinks were done, I was pleasantly drunk and hopped out of my seat as I searched the crowd for Krew.

  “Yoohoo! Krew!” I sang, calling into the thickening crowd of people. I snorted at my unintentional rhyme. “I need more of the pink.”

  Rory snagged my hand and pulled me back to sit on my stool. “I think you’ve had enough pink for the night.”

  “She’s an awesome singer. I love her. I mean, I’m not in love with her because I’m gay, but I love her.” My words came back to me, and I grinned. “Wow, I love how easy that was. I’m gay. I’mmm ggg-aaay.”

  I rocked my head around to look at Rory who seemed to find something humorous. Probably me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You. I broke you giving you drinks. Are you out? Or has this bar trip become your official coming out party?”

  “Kinda. A little bit.” I held fingers up to show him. “Mostly. Like one foot and a half out. Okay, not the half, just the one foot. Most days I’m in. Nothing good has ever come from telling people.”

  “You ramble when you’re drunk.”

  “I do,” I realized. “I’ve never been drunk before.”

  “Come on.” Rory stood and helped me up. The room was pretty wobbly, so I didn’t mind him wrapping his arm around me. Plus, I liked how the connection felt. Warming. Thrilling. Something else I’d never felt.

  Rory guided me out of the bar and into the street. A few cars sped past, their music blaring out their open windows. People were grouped together across the street out front of another bar, some smoking, others chatting.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  Rory pulled out his phone and checked. “After midnight. Twelve-twenty.”

  “Damn. I can’t go home yet.”

  He pulled me in front of him and tilted my chin, so I’d look him in the eyes. He’d put his sunglasses back on, and I wanted to lift them off his face so I could see his eyes again.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because there were guys over when I left, and they’ll be drinking until late. If I’d stayed in my room, it would have been fine. But I left, and now I’d need to walk through their party to get upstairs.” I shook my head, a wave of sadness surrounding me. “I shouldn’t have left tonight. I’m so stupid. I was just so angry.”

  “What happened tonight that made you angry?”

  “I have pink underwear.” The dawning realization hit me anew, and I pouted. “Just like my drink.”

  Rory pressed his lips together, clearly containing his smile. I didn’t blame him, it was kinda funny—if it was someone else’s clothes that were ruined. Something told me his friend Krew probably wouldn’t have been as sad as I was. He looked like a man who would love pink clothes.

  “I’m not sure what to say to that. Listen, why don’t you come back to my place. You can crash on the couch if you want. Sleep off this buzz and go home when it’s a better time.”

  My alcohol-impaired brain knew it wasn’t a good idea but couldn’t remember exactly the reason why. Rory was being nice to me. No one had been nice to me all my life. And he was incredibly attractive. And interested in me. Why was that a problem?

  As we wandered back to his apartment, I leaned heavily on his arm and took in the sights like I was a tourist exploring the late-night scene. It was then it dawned on me why I wasn’t supposed to be going with him.

  I dug my feet in, pulling him to a stop as I tried to express the jumbled thoughts in my mind. “I… We can’t be doing this. I’m going to be in trouble. We need boundaries.”

  Rory’s brow creased until he sorted out my meaning. “Friends, Adrian. You need a place to crash, I have a place. I’m not about to report you. Come on.”

  It sounded reasonable, and I really didn’t want to think about it further since it was making my brain cramp. I’d have to have a good hard think about it when I wasn’t feeling so tilty.

  At his apartment, he took me up the stairwell which was torture. He explained he couldn’t do the elevator, so I stumbled up ten flights of stairs beside him. By the time we reached the top, I collapsed against his chest, and he fell into the wall. My glasses were knocked askew, and he removed them before they fell to the ground.

  “I think I’m dead,” I mumbled, inhaling him with less subtlety than I intended. “You smell good. Like laundry soap and cigarettes.”

  He chuckled, and when he didn’t release me right away, I was okay with that. I was suddenly more tired than I thought, and his arms wrapped around me felt good.

  “Come on,” he whispered in my ear. “We’re almost there.”

  He fit my glasses back in place with a soft smile, then, I let myself be guided into his familiar apartment. He dropped me on the couch, and Samson pounced on my lap, nuzzling my face and making me laugh.

  “Aww, hello, cutie pie. I missed you, too.”

  Rory disappeared down the hallway and returned a short time later with a blanket and pillow. I stood when he guided me up again and watched as he fixed up the couch into a workable bed.

  “There. Is this okay?”

  I eyed the make-shift bed before returning my focus to Rory. Our gazes lingered, and I found myself studying his mouth and wondering what it would taste like. I hadn’t seen him smoke all night, so would he taste like beer instead? I really, really wanted to know.

  Twenty-four years old and I’d never even kissed a guy. The yearning brewing inside made me want to throw caution to the wind, blame drunkenness, and simply take a taste of him.

  “How about you lie down?” Rory said, drawing my attention from his mouth.

  The lust in his eyes seemed real, and I wondered—hopefully—if maybe he felt the same way. I took a stumbling step forward and fell for the second time against his chest. Only that time, I clung and peered up into his eyes which were no longer guarded by sunglasses. His face was close, and the heat I saw reciprocated was intense. The warmth of his breath—laced with a tinge of alcohol—fanned against my chin. I bet beer tasted better on him than from a glass.

  “Lie down,” he prompted. “You’re drunk and need to sleep it off.”

  “I only had three drinks.”

  “And two of them were Krew specials which means doubles. So, technically you had five or more drinks, depending on how liberal he was feeling with his pours tonight.”

  “But I—”

  “I don’t want you to regret anything, Adrian.”

  He encouraged me to step back, and I fell hard onto the cushioned couch. The draw to lie down was strong, so when Rory told me he was going outside for a smoke, I rested my head with full intentions of talking to him again when he was done. The alcohol had other plan
s, and I was out cold before he even made it out the patio door.

  Hours later, I woke up in darkness with a cat wrapped around my head. My mouth and throat were coated in a thick film, and a headache split my skull wide open. I groaned as I dislodged the cat and sat up, trying to orient myself.

  “Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

  I was at Rory’s apartment. That was bad. Really bad. Remembering how the night had progressed, I cringed. Every rule I’d put in place for myself had been broken. Maybe nothing physical had happened between us, but I sure as hell had wanted it to. Which was bad because I was supposed to be his counselor.

  Samson deposited himself in my lap and purred as I tried to focus my hazy mind on what I was going to do from there. My glasses were on the coffee table, but I had no recollection of taking them off. I checked my phone and saw it was almost five in the morning. Everything was quiet, so I assumed Rory had gone to bed. I needed to get home, get away from his apartment and all the temptations his presence brought. Monday, I’d need to find someone else to take over his case because I’d crossed lines, and even though no one knew, I knew, and I couldn’t face him again.

  I stood and folded the blanket he’d given me. On silent feet, I went to his kitchen and helped myself to a glass of water to alleviate my parched throat. Never again. Impaired thinking was not for me. I relied too heavily on my brain to allow it to be compromised. Alcohol encouraged stupid decisions. Stupid, stupid decisions.