Page 34 of Blown

It wasn’t actually love, or so he told himself. Rafe had just been exceptionally kind to him when almost no one else had. It was gratitude, friendship, and admiration. The two of them got along and worked well together. Rafe seemed genuinely interested in helping him get over his lying addiction. For the first time in his life, Jake felt like he might not actually have to lie around someone. Rafe would accept him just the way he was.

But it wasn’t love. Love was dangerous. This was…something else. It had to be.

Jake tried every sort of mental gymnastic that he could think of to put the idea of being in love with Rafe out of his mind. He tried to tell himself he was only interested in Cupid’s Arrow because he needed a night of blowing off steam and that it would be funny to show up at the same club where Rafe was on a date.

He told himself that, but as soon as he walked into the loud, vibrant club with its black-painted walls and lurid pink and red neon decorations, like Valentine’s Day was horny and into kinky, and saw Rafe sitting at the bar, his heart gave up its resistance. Fuck it, he was in love with Rafe, and if he could just?—

His thoughts stopped dead, not because Rafe glanced up, met his eyes, and broke into a smile, but because Rafe was holding hands with the gorgeous, muscular redhead sitting at the bar with him.

“Oh, he’s here with Steve,” Nally said, leaning close to Jake so he could be heard over the music. “They’re friends from way back. Steve’s alright.”

If Nally was trying to make him feel better, it failed. The only thing worse than Rafe hooking up with a stranger he randomlymet at a club was him getting cozy with an old friend. One that Nally, and probably the rest of the Hawthorne family, liked.

“Let’s go say hi,” he said, trying to sound chipper and teasing when his heart was beating so hard against his ribs it stung.

Rafe shifted away from Steve as Jake and Nally approached, but it was too late. Jake couldn’t unsee the two of them holding hands.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asked, standing to greet them. Steve stood as well, though his smile was brittle. Someone wasn’t happy about having their date interrupted.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jake said, falling back on what he knew best. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Rafe’s tense smile faltered. “Yes, you did.”

Jake ignored him, shifting to offer a hand to Steve. “Hey. I’m Jake. I’m a friend of the Hawthorne family, over here visiting them for the summer. And you are?”

Steve grasped Jake’s hand and nearly squashed it. “I’m Steve,” he said, staring so hard at Jake that Jake wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d burst into flames and turned into a puddle of ash on the club’s shiny floor. “I’m Rafe’s date.”

Nothing about the introduction was reassuring. Steve couldn’t have made his intentions clearer if he’d whipped his dick out and peed on Rafe.

“Should we grab one of the tables?” Rafe asked, nervously reaching for a half-finished drink on the bar.

“Nah,” Jake said, brushing the movement away. “Nally and I are here to dance. You boys have fun with your little date thing, or whatever this is.” He wiggled his fingers at the two of them.

He was being an ass, but he couldn’t help it. Seeing Rafe with another man was horrible. Especially since Steve was gorgeous and built and probably had his life together a thousand times more than Jake ever could. Steve was the kind of guy Rafe should be with.

“You’re turning green,” Nally said as Jake dragged him out into the middle of the happy, throbbing, writhing group on the dance floor.

“Must be the lights,” Jake said, then grabbed Nally and twirled him. “Let’s dance!”

Dancing wasn’t a solution, but it burned off some of the anxious energy that had Jake feeling like a toy that had been wound too tight. He liked dancing and was pretty good at it. More than a few of the other guys on the dance floor noticed him and shimmied over to bump and grind with him in time to the music.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was reassuring. Someone wanted him, at least. They only wanted him for one thing, though. That wasn’t as fun as he used to think it was. It wasn’t what he really wanted. What he really wanted was for Rafe to ditch Steve and come out to the dance floor, push aside the guy who was half an inch from rubbing his obvious erection against Jake’s backside, and take his place.

Instead, Rafe continued to sit at the bar, listening intently to whatever Steve was saying.

At least, he was pretending to listen. Jake wasn’t so sure. His gaze kept darting out to the dance floor. He knew what Rafe looked like when he was actually engaged in something and he had a pretty good idea of where his fake-fiancé’s attention really was.

That idea proved true when Steve gave up whatever he was saying and gestured toward the dancers. Rafe nodded, and the two of them got up and came over to join the crowd on the floor just as the song changed.

Jake laughed at the stiff way Rafe danced. He couldn’t tell if it was the nerves of the moment or if Rafe was always that awkward, but it didn’t matter. He left Nally shimmying in themiddle of a threesome of bears in leather and made his way over to Rafe and Steve.

“Come on,” he called out over the noise. “You can do better than that, baby.”

Rafe snapped his head up from where he’d been watching his feet and frowned. Maybe “baby” wasn’t the best pet name for him, but that wasn’t why Jake had let the word drop, and Rafe probably knew it. Rafe’s face flushed, and Jake hoped it was because of memories of their afternoon.

“You dance well,” Steve said, sidling closer to him as he grooved to the music. “For an American,” he added.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Jake called out in reply, face smiling and eyes shooting daggers at him. “For a limey.”

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