The Better Side of Me - Jerry Cole Page 0,46

the Ivy once, and it was only because the chick I was trying to nail was fancy. Too fancy, to be honest. Had to go to the best spot in Sydney. And to be truthful, the sex wasn’t even worth it! Dropped two hundred on dinner and didn’t even get a...”

Carlo continued to speak for a long time after that, but Lance stopped paying attention almost as soon as he’d heard the key facts. Kirk was having dinner with another man. He was on a date, with another man. He was on a date at the Ivy, with another man. Kirk had moved on.

Lance stared at his empty shot glasses, expression blank, stomach sick. What did it mean? Had Kirk actually moved on? Was there anything to move on from? They weren’t dating. They weren’t exclusive. They’d just been having casual sex. So why did this hurt so fucking much?

For a short period, Lance considered doing nothing. And indeed, if he were sober then the old Lance would have come through, pushed his feelings deep down, until he felt just that: nothing. But Lance was drunk, he was emotional and most importantly, he was starting to recognize and consider his feelings for Kirk.

“I’ve got to go.” He slapped Carlo on the back, pushed his stool back and just about ran from the bar. Kirk thought he could just go on another date so soon after seeing Lance? If that was what Kirk thought, then he had another think coming.

***

Lance stormed into the Ivy, a man on a mission. The host shouted out for him to wait to be seated, but Lance ignored her as he moved at pace into the dining area. He was here to see Kirk, and nothing, or no one, was going to stop him. What he was going to say when he saw Kirk was another question entirely, but Lance didn’t bother himself with that just yet.

It was silly, but one of the things that hurt Lance the most was the location of this ‘date.’ He’d been sleeping with Kirk for over a week, and the fanciest place they had gone was on their first night, which hadn’t even been a date! And yes, Lance knew that had Kirk even suggested something akin to the Ivy, Lance would have turned him down instantly. But logic and common sense were out the window at this point.

The restaurant was full; a mass of bodies wearing suits and cocktail dresses. But Lance hardily saw them. The moment he walked onto the floor, he looked the room over, saw Kirk sitting in the back corner, and went for him like a hyena on a carcass.

Kirk’s eyes popped at the sight of Lance coming for him. He seized up in his chair, looked like he was about to stand and flee, but then stayed put.... barely. Lance knew Kirk well enough to know that his staying there was most likely a result of fear paralyzing him, rather than any actual sense of bravery.

“What the fuck is this?” Lance was more drunk than he realized. He had intended that to come out strong and domineering. Instead the words fell from his mouth without control.

“Lance... hey.” At least Kirk looked nervous as hell too. That was something. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?!” Lance postured. “What are you doing here?”

“What are we all doing here?” Gregory joined in happily. For some reason, he looked absolutely delighted by the situation. “Oh, I’m Gregory by the way? Not sure who you are.” Gregory held his hand out for Lance to shake.

It was only now that Lance actually bothered taking notice of Gregory. Before, he had just been a faceless blob, someone that was in the way. It didn’t matter who. But now... well, he was still a blob. Only this time with a face. A hideous, squashed face that looked unfinished somehow. This was the guy that Kirk had chosen to go on a date with?

“I’d put that away if I were you,” Lance said of the hand. “And then, I’d stand up and walk the fuck out of this restaurant. How’s that sound?”

“Lance!” Kirk hissed.

“Oh. He has bite!” Gregory giggled.

“I have more than that.” Lance turned on Gregory and bore down upon the little man like a mountain over a village. “If you’re lucky you might get to see.”

Now, Lance was no fighter. Sure, he was big and strong and well built, but that didn’t automatically equal violence. Truth be told, Lance hated pain; both