More Than You Know Ch. 03

Steven left the booth very soon after he had arrived. He looked unsettled, and it alarmed me. I wasn't prepared for the surge of protective energy that welled up within me when I saw that emotion in his expressive chocolate eyes. I was relieved when he came back to see that he had relaxed a bit, and that he was rather jovial.

Blake, however, was pissing me off. He was arrogant and clearly wasn't comfortable enough with himself to be comfortable around a gay man, let alone two. If it would've been ten years ago, I would've taken him down to the club and made him beg for my cock, turn his discomfort and disdain to desire. But this wasn't back in my rowdy days, though, and the only man I had been interested in for quite some time was sitting next to me; well, next to me until he slid out of the booth to go dance with Erin.

I watched through the window as Ev, Blake, Erin, and Steven made their way down the stairs to the dance floor, and eventually started dancing. Blake was, unfortunately, a good dancer. Ev and Erin were great dancers. Steven was . . . a bit awkward at first. I kept watching, and not more than a minute later, he had gotten into the song and his body moved like the rhythm. The man flowed, I would give him that. He moved with a grace that most guys don't have, but not femininely. He was definitely still all-man as I watched Erin run her hand down his torso, then make a surprised face and say something to him. Damn it all to hell yet again if I didn't want to be the one running my hand down his torso, or anywhere else he'd let me touch. As the songs changed, so did his dancing. I don't know how long I stared, watching him dance. I ignored Blake and Ev making out (see: eating each others' faces) watching Steven—or leering, rather—half hard in my jeans from my attraction to him. This man was dangerous news to me.

"He's a good catch," Pete said, surprising me, his words loud in the silence of my thoughts.

"Yeah. I see that."

"He's an amazing CPA, he's a great dad, and he was a great husband," Pete said.

"What?"

"Which part?"

"The husband part. I, uh, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, I'll let him tell you the details. He and his partner adopted Ana. Ever since Adam died, he hasn't seen anyone. We were all worried for the first few years, but he devotes himself to his daughter. He seems happy, but we can tell he's lonely."

That was the last thing I was expecting. I had no idea about a partner—neither of the girls had mentioned it. Suddenly, I understood why Steven seemed just a bit flighty and a lot out of practice. He definitely hadn't been subtle while staring into my eyes and at my lips earlier. Of course, then again, neither had I.

"I think you two are good for each other," Pete continued.

"Just because we're both single and gay doesn't make us compatible." I know I seemed a little rude, but let's be honest: it is a very common mentality.

"C'mon, man, give me a little credit. I'm not that stupid." He took a sip of his water. "He loves Ana. She is the center of his world. He is a father through and through, and not many men or women, let alone single gay men, can be understanding of that. You can. He's a hard worker, and so are you. You're different enough to make things interesting, but you see many things through a similar lens. If nothing else, you'll make splendid friends."

"Splendid? I haven't heard that word in such a long time," I simpered.

"Oh, shut up."

I glanced back down at the dance floor and saw them making their way up the stairs again.

"We're back," Erin sang, sliding in the booth next to her husband. They kissed chastely and looked back at me. Steven slid in the booth next to me, a new glass of scotch in hand. I was immediately aware of his smell. He had gotten just hot enough to sweat the slightest bit, and I could smell his cologne, scotch, and the unmistakable smell of man, mixing to make a scent that was distinctly Steven. He took off his jacket, setting it on the seat between us, and I watched as his lightly-muscled chest and lean arms flexed through his tee shirt.

"Have fun?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Steven answered, smiling at Erin. We all chatted for a while, but I wasn't contributing much to the conversation. In fact, there were only certain parts that I even kept up with. I just couldn't help myself from studying Steven. My god, he was handsome: dimples that haunted his face when he smiled appeared, his straight white teeth shining in the light. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him when he smiled.

"Earth to Luke," Ev teased. I looked at her with a pretend frown on my face, trying to hide my smile at being caught staring at Steven.

"Like what you see?" Erin chimed, getting out of the booth to get another drink with Peter and Ev. They were two peas in a pod, Erin and Ev. They walked together to the bar, Pete trailing right behind Erin.

"Ohmygod," breathed Blake as he rolled his eyes. Obviously, Steven had put up with enough of his not-so-subtle hints at intolerance throughout the night.

"Blake, if you're not comfortable enough with yourself and your manhood to be around gay men who are, you need to find a new girlfriend. We are her friends, we aren't going anywhere, and if you plan on sticking around for any period of time, you need to adjust your attitude. The rude comments when we were dancing down in the club and all your insulting looks and comments up here aren't appreciated or welcome."

I was taken aback. The alcohol had brought out Steven's introverted nature throughout the rest of the evening: aside from dancing, he had been fairly withdrawn. Clearly, though, he had a fiery side, too, which apparently appeared without very much warning.

"Hey, listen,sweetheart," Blake spat back, "just because I'm straight and you can't handle that, and just because you feel the need to flaunt your gayness everywhere doesn't make everyone gay. Just stop trying to broadcast it or rub it off on people or whatever the hell it is that you accomplish by swishing around."

Steven seethed silently, his cheeks, ears, and neck turning crimson. Oh, boy, I could tell the man was riled up. I was about to say something to Blake, but Steven steamrolled right through. "In case you haven't noticed, most of my friends are straight, and they don't seem to have any problem with it, nor did my 'gayness' and 'swishiness' rub off on any of them. Maybe if you'd join reality and pull your head out of your ass—"

"Join reality?" Blake sneered. "The reality is that you need some help. Homosexuality is against all that is natural in the human race. I know some therapists. Maybe you should see one." I'd had enough. Clearly Blake had had too much to drink, and was letting his tongue wag a bit too freely.

"Listen here," I piped in.

"What, are you going to defend your fairy now?" Blake jeered. Clearly that statement smothered Steven's temporary explosiveness, and he looked at Blake, a cool calmness setting over his eyes, and stood up. Blake did likewise.

"In case you didn't notice, I came by myself," Steven stated matter-of-factly. "This 'fairy' doesn't need anyone to defend him, but I won't just sit here and tolerate you insulting me. People like you will never see, and I am not staying here to discuss this any further."

"Yeah, staying and duking it out might be too manly, right?" Blake said, pushing Steven backwards.

"Manly, no. Just as stupid as you are, yes." With that, Steven turned and walked away.

Damn. Classy man.

"Hey, whoa, what's going on here?" Ev asked as she, Erin, and Peter walked back up to the table. "Steven, why are you leaving?" she called to him.

"Ask your homophobic asshole," Steven muttered, gesturing to Blake who was wearing a disgustingly smug look on his face. "I'm sorry, I need to go," he stammered, turning and walking toward the door.

"Stupid queers," Blake muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Excuse me?" Ev asked, floored. I lost my temper.

"Do you want to get the shit beaten out of you? Because if you do, keep making comments like that," I told Blake, surprising myself with the calm but edgy tone of my voice. By this time, people had actually come around and started gawking. "I grew up in the South, and I may talk a little slow, but even I'm not so stupid as to keep teasing an angry dog."

"Oh, just shut up and go chase your bitch, rimjob," Blake returned.

He didn't know what hit him; but then again, neither did I at first. Suddenly, he was on the floor. I looked down at my hand and inadvertently rubbed my knuckles, which hurt. It dawned on me that I had punched the guy—hard, too, if the way his mouth was bleeding was any indicator. Shit. My temper relinquished its power over me as logic took over.

"Oh, fuck," I said. "Ev, I'm sorry," I stammered as I stepped back.

"What's the problem?" the manager asked as he approached us.

"Nothing, sir," Pete offered. "This gentleman was just causing trouble," he continued, gesturing to Blake, still on the floor. "We're just leaving. We apologize for the commotion. We'll take responsibility for any complaints." The manager looked us over and blinked, not happy but not livid, either.

"Oh, come on. How would you do that?" he snarled. I couldn't blame him for being upset. He sighed. It wasn't the first fight he'd seen, and surely wouldn't be the last. He looked back to Blake and then to Peter again. "I appreciate the thought, but just show yourselves out quietly."

"Thank you," Erin said graciously.

I walked behind Steven, and Erin, Peter, and Ev followed us. We stepped out into the cool night and I took a deep breath.

"You just going to leave him in there?" Erin asked Ev.

"Yes," Ev answered. "No one I date gets to insult my friends. What a doucher." She was silent for a moment. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Ev," Pete intercepted. "You hadn't seen him in a situation like this before, so you had no idea how he'd react to you having gay friends."

"That shouldn't even have to be something I have to worry about."

"It shouldn't, sweetie, but as much as we hate it, it is," Erin said calmly. I watched as Steven said good night and walked the opposite way, and the other three walked over to where Peter had parked his car.

"We're over here," he gestured.

"I think I'll walk tonight. Have a good night, y'all," I said as I followed Steven. I caught up to him and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I shouldn't have lost my cool in there. I probably shouldn't even have said anything. This whole thing wouldn't have happened if I would've just kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not true. Eventually I would have gotten fed up with it, too. And besides, you were justified in speaking up. He was the one in the wrong, Steven. Don't blame yourself."

"Yeah, well, I'm self-conscious when people tell me I'm swishy, like I'm just as bad as a big queen riding on a giant, rainbow-cloud float in a parade dancing around in a hot pink, leopard-spotted thong, disproving the 'We're the same as everyone else!' statement he shouts."

I chuckled at the picture, then got serious again, seeing the uncertainty in Steven's eyes. "Steven, you're not a swish." He was silent for a minute, and I thought he'd argue the point further, but he didn't.

"Thanks for standing up for me in there. Well, standing up for you, too, I guess." He smiled at me. I felt my stomach churn as I realized that I wanted to see that smile a lot more often. Damn, but it made me happy.

"I was just doing what I saw fit, is all. I probably shouldn't've punched him, though. That was a bit out of line."

"Like you said, he deserved it."

"Yes, but that doesn't make my actions okay." Steven looked at me after I said that, a funny look taking over his expression.

"Okay, Mr. Worthington. I'm probably just asking this because I'm definitely drunk right now, but you're gay, you're hot, you're sensible. So, why are you single?"

Well, that was the million dollar question, the one I had asked myself every single night for the past decade as I fell asleep alone, or even when I wasn't alone but fell asleep still feeling lonely.

"I guess I just haven't found the right person yet," I answered. "That's generic, I know. I'm sorry."

We stopped in front of a beautiful two-story house with lovely flowers and a charming feel to it.

"Well, this is me," he said, pulling back into his shy shell. I don't know what he was thinking, I don't know what made me do it, but suddenly he was close, and so I kissed him. Hot damn, Steven Abernathy was kissing me back, and oh, was it good. He tasted like scotch, like peppermint, like himself. I grabbed his face in my hands as his arms wrapped around me and I felt his hands on my back. Suddenly, he stiffened and stopped. I pulled away slowly, my hands drifting down to his shoulders.

"Oh, god," he said, looking toward the house, then back at me. "Luke, I'm so sorry. That was stupid. I don't know why I did that. Well, yes I do, it's because I'm pretty tipsy right now, and I never could hold my liquor. Oh, god, I'm rambling. Shit. I'm sorry." He looked from me, to the house, to the ground uneasily. Part of me wanted to laugh at his dialogue, but I knew better than that. Instead, I just smiled at him.

"It's really okay," I replied, lifting his chin gently so I could see his eyes. As I looked at him, I thought I saw a flicker of innocent hope in his eyes, but it was darkened so quickly that it made me wonder if I was just reflecting my own hope onto him.

"I better go," he said simply, turning away and heading up the sidewalk.

"Steven, wait," I begged, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Can I take you out sometime?"

"I don't think that's the best idea, Luke," was all he said before he continued toward the house. It was automatic: there was no thinking involved, there was no debate.

He was not interested in me.

Well, shit.

I didn't expect the overwhelming disappointment that I felt at that moment. It was as if my insides were being torn. I had been rejected before—albeit not many times, and mostly from guys who were already taken, but I'd still experienced it (Jesus, now who's doing the rambling?)—and it felt nothing like this. I turned started the long walk back to my house, alone, wondering why I didn't just leave Mid's with Peter and Erin.