Page 21 of Pick One
He droned on and on about whatever the fuck, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy staring at John, who looked miserable, and defiant, and… andmiserable.
“—Grindr hookup?” Knox said, looking from John to Goodman.
I gasped. “John! You were on Grindr?” The betrayal of it all! “You said you weren’t doing that anymore. You pinky promised.”
“I…” John looked at Goodman guiltily. “It’s…”
“We didn’t meet on Grindr,” Goodman said. “We met at the bar earlier. The specifics are all a blur, but we’re very committed. Aren’t we, honey bear?”
I pressed a hand to my stomach.Honey bear?
“Committed,” John agreed, looking at me sadly. Then he let Goodman spin him back into the crush of dancing bodies.
Oh, God, how mortifying. John clearly hadn’t been that upset about the idea of me being with Other-John if he’d moved on this quickly, and yet here I was, practically stalking him at the bar. I needed to leave, immediately, before I did something that really would ruin my friendship with John far more than a declaration of affection would have.
I turned to leave… and Knox blocked my path.
“Let’s dance,” he said again. “Trust me.”
I didn’t really want to, but I was obviously a glutton for punishment, because I let him take my hand and spin me through the crowd until we were standing next to John and Goodman again.
We got there just in time to see John spin the man around and hold him so that John’s broad chest was plastered to Goodman’s back and John’s big hand was on the man’s hip as they swayed.
Knox was a decent dancer, and he kept our bodies moving in time, which I was distantly grateful for. Meanwhile, the entire focus of my consciousness was centered on John’s hand where it held Goodman in place. It was so wrong, so fuckingwrong, to see him holding someone else while feeling in my bones that it should have been me in his arms instead.
The flashing lights caught on John’s soulful eyes, highlighted the fine filaments of his beard, caught a drop of sweat that rolled from his temple to his cheek. Goodman reached behind him, wrapping his arm around the back of my John’s neck, pulling John down to whisper something in his ear that made John’s eyelids flutter momentarily.
It felt unbearably intimate, watching him like this, and I knew that if John looked at me, there’d be no way to hide my hurt, let alone my overwhelming jealousy.
I lifted up on my tiptoes and pulled Knox’s head down. “Sorry, but I think I need to go. I—”
Goodman stumbled into me, knocking me sideways. “Oops! My bad!” He smirked at me, but his gaze kept straying to the place where I was touching Knox.
Oh, really.
I narrowed my eyes and very deliberately ran a hand through Knox’s hair.
The asshole looked like he was trying to murder me with his laser eyeballs, and I felt a faint glimmer of satisfaction… before I remembered that the asshole was dancing withmy John, and what the fuck was he doing being jealous of anyone else?
He swallowed hard and turned his attention back to John. Then suddenly they were plastered together with Goodman nearly bent in half, doing a bump and grind that was hotter than anything in my porn folder.
Mother. Fucker.My hands clenched into fists, and I briefly contemplated throwingdown, right there in the club, despite never having been involved in a physical confrontation in my entire life.
I wouldenjoyit.
“Hey.” Knox put a hand on my waist comfortingly. “It’s okay. Chill,” he whispered in my ear, not understanding my chronic, congenital un-chill-ness. He obviously didn’t know about the fairy. I bit my lip so hard it stung.
“I don’t know how,” I moaned. If John and Goodman were acting like this at the fucking club, it was only a matter of time before they slipped away to the back. Or, Jesus fuck, went back to Goodman’s place. Orours.
I was seriously going to be ill.
Suddenly, I felt a familiar hand on my wrist, pulling me away from Knox’s almost-embrace. “T,” John said, low and urgent. “Can I speak to you, please? Right now? Outside?”
For a second, I almost refused. I didn’t know if I could speak to him without bursting into tears. This was the part where he would tell me that he and Goodman wanted to go back to our apartment, wasn’t it? How could I refuse?
Then I would have to stay the night at Monica’s apartment so I didn’t murder Gage Goodman in cold blood. Or, no. Maybe I needed to get a hotel room someplace further away. Like downtown Boston. Or Vermont. Or Sri Lanka. That way, I wouldn’t be tempted to go across the hall and refuse to leave until Goodman had answered a comprehensive list of questions to prove his worthiness as John’s potential suitor, including an essay question that I didnotintend to grade on a curve.
I sighed, then nodded woodenly and let John lead me away.
