Page 65 of Street of Dreams
Mac laughed a little at the sparkle in Alex’s eyes. As he refilled their glasses, something Mac’s da always said to him popped into his head. “Yer bum’s oot the winda. I’m going ta skelp yer wee behind.”
Alex’s mouth opened wide with delight. “I didn’t understand a word you just said. But it sounded sexy.”
Mac chuckled. “Not really. It basically means, you’re talking shit, and I’m going to kick your ass. It was my father’s response every time I told him that I was going to become a singer/songwriter instead of going to college.”
Alex clinked Mac’s glass again, and it emitted a beautiful twinkle. “I guess you can tell him, I told you so.”
They each took a sip of the scotch and then quietly smiled at one another. “How old are you?” Alex asked, with a quizzical tilt of his head.
Mac looked at the alcohol in his hand, realizing he was a few months shy of the legal drinking age. “Um. Twenty-one.”
A deep chuckle left Alex’s throat. “I’m not with ATF.”
“I’m over 18,” Mac clarified.
“Good. Then I won’t get arrested if I do this.” Alex cupped Mac’s cheek in his palm and kissed him. Lightly at first, then his hand moved through Mac’s hair until it cradled the back of his head, and their mouths smashed together in a heated exchange.
It happened so quickly that Mac didn’t have time to register what was happening until his body reacted. The arousal was intense and instantaneous. His blood pumped fiercely, and his breathing became rapid. When they finally pulled apart, he felt flushed and overheated. And guilty. He realized his drink was still in his hand and placed it on the table. It felt like a million degrees in the club, and his hair was stuck to his neck. He gathered it into a ponytail and fanned himself with the ends.
“I know,” Alex chuckled, seductively, and plucked at the center of his button-down shirt. “That kiss got me pretty heated too.”
Mac refilled his glass and stared at the scotch swirling in his hand. Too many conflicting thoughts tore at his head, and he wanted them all to leave. He wanted to forget about the complications he left in South Side. He had a new life ahead of him, and he was living it right now. Fuck the past. And fuck Jake King.
Mac woke with a feeling of bliss, stretched his arms up to the ceiling and let out a yawn that turned into a roar. As he scratched his belly, he reflected on the amazing turn his life had taken in the last few months. He’d travelled halfway around the country. He had a lineup at Rocktoberfest in the fall, a single climbing the charts, and a TV appearance tomorrow. A fucking TV appearance!
His phone dinged, and he reached for it. The smile on his face widened as he saw the photo of himself and Alex sharing a drunken kiss at the club, and he read the message underneath.
ALEX: Thanks for last night. Looking forward to seeing you again.
Hot damn.
MAC: Me too.
Another photo came through, which looked as if it was taken a moment after they broke the kiss. They had their arms around each other and their cheeks pressed together. He re-lived the night as his eyes danced over the photo, and a dreamy feeling settled in his chest. He saved both photos, and then went to his photo album to look at them again. A screen full of thumbnails stared back at him. Instead of his eyes going directly to the last saved photo, it went to the others. Jake wrenching on the Chevy. Jake leaning against the outside of the garage with a cigarette between his lips. Jake sitting on the couch in Mac’s basement apartment, pretending to play the guitar. Jake with his arms around Mac. That’s the one that stabbed him in the heart. The smiles they wore and the love they had for one another jumped off the two-dimensional photo. They were happy. They had loved one another so fiercely, so completely, but now, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
Guilt gnawed at Mac for being with Alex last night, and he hated it. He hated everything about the situation. If Jake would have answered Mac’s fucking texts, it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But those unanswered pleas for communication and the bleeding heartache that Mac poured into the text messages were ignored. It was so hard for Mac to move on and to forget about Jake. Why wasn’t it as hard for Jake? How could Jake cut him off so easily? So quickly? So absolutely? That’s what had Mac so hurt and angry. And that’s what he couldn’t forgive.
