Page 30 of Pull
My money’s on some kind of Norse god.
“Hey, guys,” Tate murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while the guy frantically tucks his dick away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Ben answers too fast.
I peek at him, and he’s all flushed. He thinks they were watching us fuck. And knowing Tate, it’s a strong possibility.
“This is… really embarrassing,” the guy says, his face even redder than Ben’s.
It’s all a competition between these two, I think.
“Is it though?” Tate arches a brow at the guy, standing up slowly.
The looks they’re giving one another are intense. There’s something happening here, and I can’t quite figure it out.
Instead, I decide to try and cut the tension with my default politeness. “Hi. I’m Ryan.” I smile at the guy, extending my hand. He looks at it for a moment before I pull it back abruptly, remembering that it’s covered in banana lube.
“Um… I’m Lance,” the guy does an awkward little wave at me.
I gesture to Ben, “This is my husband—”
“Were you watching us?” Ben barks at Tate and I cringe.
Ben has a skill. He can make anything in the world seem like Tate Eckhart’s fault. It’s met well with Tate’s skill in not giving a fuck while pushing Ben’s buttons.
Tate leans into Lance’s side, who still looks hella uncomfortable, his eyes staying on Ben. “If you didn’t want anyone to watch, why’d you do it in the room with no door?” He smirks, and I witness Ben swallow.
Ignoring them both, I look back to Lance. “So how do you two know each other?”
“I, uh… I should actually be going,” Lance runs fingers through his hair, turning to Tate to mutter a weakened, “I’m sorry. I can’t…” Before staggering off.
I watch him disappear then peer at Tate with raised brows.
Tate rolls his eyes. “He’s straight…allegedly.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure how to respond to that.
“Yea. I knew him… a long time ago,” Tate’s gaze stays in the direction Lance just left. “He showed up here after I ran into him earlier. And I thought maybe…” His voice trails before he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I have no clue what I thought. It doesn’t matter.”
“You have a type, huh?” Ben grumbles, and I elbow him.
“Do you want to get a drink and talk?” I ask Tate. I can feel Ben glaring at the side of my face, but I ignore him. Tate needs a friend right now, and above anything else, we can be that. “It might help.”
Tate continues to stare off into space for a moment before he brushes it off, brow furrowing. “No. It’s okay, Harper. Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna go out.”
“Goout?”
“Yea. It’s Pride,” he scoffs. “I’m not gonna spend it at someone’s house all night.” He tugs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, sticking one between his teeth.
Glancing at my shoes for a moment, I feel a little like a loser. I thought this was it, yet to my surprise, the night is still young.What the hell happened to me? I used to know how to party. Now, I’m a dad and I barely even remember how to go out.
Ben grabs my hand, startling me out of my little pity party.
“Can we come?” He asks Tate, peeking at me for a moment, a small curve happening on his lips, which are visibly puffy from all the kissing we were doing moments ago.
Tate lifts his brow at Ben. “Have you been to a gay club before, Lockwood…Harper?”
Ben rolls his eyes. “No, but what does that matter?” He shrugs, “I’d never been to a Pride parade before today. We’d like to come with you. I want to… dance.”
