Page 97 of You Are Not Me

“C’mon,” Barry said, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “There’ll be other opportunities to dance Daniel to the brink of jizzing his pants. It’s Renée’s turn to shine now.”

The stage was four times as large as Tilt-a-Whirl’s. I gaped as I slid into the only empty seat at the table he’d scored for all of us.

“This is amazing,” I murmured.

“The big time,” Barry agreed.

Daniel sat across from me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. His stubble glinted in the light from the stage, and his fingers stroked the glass of liquor Windy pressed into his hand. His eyes stayed on me too. Sweaty and shaky, I wished the table between us would vanish so I could straddle his hips and press my mouth to his with all the urgency crashing through me.

The pulsing beat of Renée’s opening number spread through the room, and I tried to pay attention as she took the stage. She was magnificent, that much I knew. But Daniel’s presence on the other side of the table was a magnet, drawing my focus again and again.

I couldn’t think of anything but the taste of his skin.

When Renée did her final spin before starting on the room-shattering Naughty Boy routine, I knew that if Michael Jackson were around to ask me, I’d have to tell him the truth—

Daniel McPeak had broken me, and I was definitely not okay.

***

A motel showerhad never felt so amazing. I washed cigarette-grime and sweat from my skin, feeling loose and exhausted from hours of dancing. All of us—Daniel, Minty, Antonio, and Windy—had been worn-out but triumphant when we’d rolled into the Cozy Inn’s parking lot at almost four in the morning.

Renée’s performance had been an overwhelming success. The Nashvillians had nearly brought down the room in response to the Naughty Boy spanking, and I’d felt a massive swell of pride when they’d chanted Renée’s name for an encore.

Rinsing my hair, my mind drifted back to dancing with Daniel. I didn’t know what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. Would we have really gotten each other off on the dance floor? Would my first orgasm with Daniel have been in the middle of a public place?

I bit my lip. I seemed to have a habit of impulsive first times. I’d have regretted that later.

A kiss, though, wouldn’t have been too much. I wished he’d kissed me. Scrubbing at my skin with the bar of motel soap, I pondered the truth of that desire. Why didn’t I feel guilty?

My dick was still stuck back on the dance floor, half-hard and yearning. I considered relieving the tension, but the motel bathroom didn’t have a lock. It wasn’t as though my friends respected anyone’s privacy, and I didn’t want to get busted masturbating. I’d never hear the end of it.

Determined to get myself under control, I pictured my mother in her bathing suit. It worked well enough. After I toweled off and pulled on clean boxers and a T-shirt, I was still a little damp, but happily clean. I cleared a patch of fogged mirror so I could get my contacts out and into their case.

The room was quiet except for the low murmur of the television playing a late-night infomercial. Windy and Minty were asleep in the bed farthest from the bathroom, closest to the motel room door, their mouths hanging open. Windy’s hand rested on Minty’s hip, but otherwise they didn’t touch at all.

Daniel was in the bed closest to the bathroom, resting on his back, the covers pushed down far enough to expose his T-shirt and the top of his plaid boxers. His eyes were closed and the light of the lamp behind him illuminated his features. His strong arms were folded over his chest, and his full lips were parted slightly.

I tiptoed to the space between the beds where a cot had been set up, but Antonio was spread out on it, his arm flung over his eyes and his breath slow and even. It seemed everyone had chosen where to sleep for the night while I was in the shower, leaving me with only one option…

My heart thumped, and I was suddenly wide-awake and a little shaky.

I could wake up Antonio and tell him to get in with Daniel, but that seemed rude. I thought about walking down the hall to Barry and Robert’s room to take their second bed, but they were probably celebrating Renée’s triumph in a naked way, and even if they weren’t, that’d look like I didn’twantto sleep with Daniel.

“Sorry,” Daniel whispered.

His eyes were tired, and his face was soft with exhaustion. “I’m pretty sure this is a set-up.” He lifted his hand from the pillow to gesture at our sleeping friends. “The little assholes sent me down to get ice, and when I came back they were all ‘asleep.’ And now they’re allactuallyasleep, I think. It’s not a big deal, is it?”

“No, it’s fine.” My pulse quickened.

“Cool,” Daniel murmured, his eyes slipping closed. Then he opened them again. “You look cute in glasses.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking them off and putting them on the table by what was apparently going to be my side of the bed.

I scratched at my cheek and the bristle of new growth, as I stood awkwardly by the bed. What was I waiting for? An invitation?

“I won’t be offended if you want me to sleep on the floor or something,” Daniel offered.

“No, that’s silly. It’s fine.” I climbed into bed next to him, rearranging my pillow. I settled flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. If I was very still, hopefully no part of me would touch him.

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