The Better Side of Me - Jerry Cole Page 0,24

all endearing as heck to Lance... and the wine helped.

As such, when dinner came to an end, Lance didn’t want the night to end. By now he was well and truly drunk, and he wanted more. He liked being around Kirk. He liked how smart he was. He liked that he actually felt inferior to the man! Not physically, of course. But mentally. Kirk Little could run mental circles around him.

“I know a cool little bar just down the road,” Lance explained as he led Kirk from the restaurant. He linked arms and held Kirk close. “It’s called Black Sheep – a straight bar. But that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Huh?” Kirk blushed again. “I mean, no. Doesn’t bother me.”

The bar was closed, which at first served as a real blow. Lance actually had been looking forward to getting another drink with Kirk. He wanted to ask him more about his job, about ancient history, about his sexual history. All of it!

“Shit... that sucks,” Kirk muttered when they pulled up outside the closed door. “That’s a night then?”

“Na, not yet,” Lance blew through his lips. “I’ll tell you what. I have a bottle of Grey Goose back at my place – just down the road. Walk me there and I’ll do the right thing and offer you a glass.”

Kirk pushed his lips together, as if he were actually considering the offer. “Just down the road?”

Lance nodded. Their arms were still linked, and Lance wasn’t letting go. “Have you ever used a Soda Stream? I bought one last week and it has turned my life around – never thought soda water would have such an effect on my life.”

“Well now I have to see.”

They walked to Lance’s apartment in relative silence. Their arms were still linked, and Lance even had his hand resting on the back of Kirk’s. There was sexual tension, that much was clear. But whether or not it would lead to anything... Lance was undecided.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure if Kirk knew he was gay. Oh, he had been pretty obvious in the last thirty minutes or so, but before that it would have been very unclear. Lance wasn’t an effeminate gay; he was often approached by straight women, in fact. What must have been going through Kirk’s mind right now, Lance could only guess at.

It was when Lance’s apartment came within sight that he realized he was going to have to make a decision. Kirk was coming inside, that was now fact. But was Lance going to act on it? Honestly, he had no idea.

Truth be told, the moment that Lance spotted his front door, he forgot all about what he might be doing to Kirk and became immensely worried about what Kirk would think of the place. He was actually embarrassed!

Again, Lance was used to bringing guys back from the bar that he knew he would never see again. They wanted him for his body, and he for theirs. So, the fact that he lived in a studio apartment that was a little too close to the train station and was a little too close to collapsing in a heap, had never bothered him. But Kirk wasn't these other men.

“Sorry about the place,” Lance mumbled as they reached his front door. He pulled his arm free from Kirk’s and slid the key into the door. “It’s just a temporary kind of... place to sleep. You know?” It wasn’t.

“It’s fine, really.” Kirk stood a little way back, as if he planned to turn and run at any moment.

Lance smiled, popped the door open, reached out and took Kirk by the arm and lead him into his apartment. “Be honest,” he joked. “I’m having the Pope over next week. Do you think he’ll like it?”

Kirk ran his eyes over the small place. Lance watched with bated breath, searching for a hint that he was displeased, or turned-off. “Nice,” Kirk said modestly. “I’m disappointed you don’t actually sleep on a bench press like you said. But we can’t have everything.”

The joke landed and Lance felt himself relax. “Where is that vodka?” he moved toward the kitchen to grab the bottle. “For you, I’m pouring a double shot.”

“A double?” Kirk exaggerated his groan. “Fine. But only because you didn’t ask.” Kirk wandered aimlessly through the apartment, looking for somewhere to sit.

“The end of the bed is fine,” Lance indicated. “Sorry for the lack of seating.”

“It’s fine. Really.” Kirk offered a tight-lipped smile and sat himself