Page 37 of Pumped

I glance at my friend. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for fun tonight, but maybe that’s exactly what I need. Get out of my own head. Immerse myself in loud music. Get all sweaty on the dance floor. Maybe I’ll even pick up a guy and get my dick wet. God knows it’s been forever since I got laid. Yeah, drowning my sorrows in some alcohol and dancing is starting to sound better and better by the minute.

We all eat dinner at the bar together, then Logan, Sawyer, and I hop into a rideshare and head for the club. It’s too early and on a weeknight, so the club is barely half-full when we arrive. And since none of us are dressed for a night out, the whole vibe feels off.

There’s no energy, no hype. The music is loud, but the sound echoes off the walls, making it noisy and annoying. There’s no crush of people at the bar, but it still takes forever to get the bartender’s attention. By the time we have our drinks and grab one of the empty high-tops, I’m not feeling it anymore. I kind of want to go home.

Sawyer lifts one of the shots he got us. “To forgetting asshole roommates!”

“To forgetting asshole roommates!” Logan parrots, ironic since both of them live with their respective boyfriends.

I don’t bother to point that out, though, since it’ll only remind me just how bad my own situation is. I throw back my shot and the vodka burns on the way down.

“So.” Logan slings an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you laid!”

I glance around the club—the pickings are slim. “I don’t know…”

“What about that guy?” Sawyer nods to the left and I follow his gaze to a man standing a few feet away.

He’s tall, but slim, wearing a too-tight crop and booty shorts. He’s also young. Like, really young. Like, definitely not legal and shouldn’t be drinking young.

“Dude, I’m not getting arrested for molesting a kid.”

Logan pats my shoulder excitedly. “Ooo, that guy’s hot!” He points to a bear with a bald head, a full beard, and a rounded belly. Some people love that kind of thing, but not me. At least he’s age-appropriate, though.

“Naw, not my type.”

“Over there.” Sawyer eyes one of the VIP booths. “The silver fox.”

The older man is wearing a dress shirt with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s cradling a glass of liquor in one hand, giving off major daddy vibes.

Huh. Not a bad option, checks a lot of boxes, but as I stare at him from across the club, I’m not really feeling it. No curiosity, no interest, no arousal. I can appreciate that he’s a good-looking man, but that’s about it.

“No, not tonight.”

“That guy’s watching you.” Logan’s eyes dart to the right and there’s a dude about our age being really obvious about checking me out.

His shirt is tight. His pants are tight. His hair is artfully messy and his jaw has just enough scruff on it to be deliberate. He’s not too young or too old. Not too big or too small. On any other night, he would be a no-brainer, an automatic yes. Tonight, though… nothing. I’m entirely uninterested. Not even a hint of a spark. My dick is fully asleep, not even a stir.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sawyer asks when I don’t jump on the opportunity.

I shrug. “Nothing? I don’t know. He’s just… not right.”

Logan and Sawyer exchange a look.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Sawyer asks. “You’re never this picky.”

I sigh. “I’m not trying to be picky!”

“Or maybe… you’re more interested in someone else?” Logan suggests in a sing-song voice. “Someone whose name starts with an ‘O’ and ends with a ‘wen’?”

Sawyer snickers and I glare at both of them. “Shut up. I hate you both.”

But that’s when I see him.

A blur of dark hair, neatly combed, a couple inches shorter than me. The shoulders are just wide enough, the waist just narrow enough. He’s wearing a dress shirt, buttoned all the way up, cuffs still secured around his wrists.

My dick stirs and heat pools in my groin. That familiar surge of arousal courses through me. The lights in the club flash, casting shadows across his face.

Recognition sparks and my pulse shoots through the roof. Holy shit. Is that Owen? What the fuck is he doing here? Did he come after me? To find me? To bring me home? How did he even know I where I was?

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