Page 2 of Julian Shared
The techno blasting from the speakers isn’t really genre, but it goes fast. And hard. So do I. My body moves with the beat, even if my eyes stay pinned on the redhead.
When I close in on him, he doesn’t move away. One look between us is all we need. I can’t tell what color his eyes are underneath the rapid-fire flicker of the strobe lights. All I can see is that shock of red as he moves closer.
Our skin touches. Our bodies press together as we dance. His hands roaming up and down my arms. My arms around his waist. He laughs. I can’t hear it, but I can see it with my eyes. He moves with such frantic grace yet he’s not going anywhere.
He’s not lost and solo in the crowd anymore. Not when he’s with me.
I’m not sure how long we dance.
The repetitive rhythms of these songs make it so easy for them them to bleed into one another. I only know time has passed when the redhead starts to slow down.
I guide him off the dance floor before his energy level goes from flagging to floored.
Swinging by the bar, I get us both a bottled water. I hand it over to the redhead and keep eye contact as he swallows it down. No instruction needed. What a good boy. After we’re both hydrated, I pull him out of the club and into the alley.
???
“Do you smoke?” he asks first thing while slumping against the brick wall. Maybe we won’t be exchanging names tonight. Though that’d be a damn shame. Redhead’s got a real cute voice and I’d love to know how my name would sound in it.
A little higher-pitched than one would expect from a boy, but I like that. Matches his soft features. Makes me want to hear him whine for me.
“Nope,” I chuckle, hands slipping comfortably in the back pockets of my jeans. They’re empty. “Got enough shit trying to kill me, I don’t need to go offing myself with a bad habit like that.”
“Right,” he hums and looks at my dog tags. No, he stares at them. And he licks his lips. “So, you’re between deployments?”
“For a while, yeah,” I answer.
I join him on the wall, leaning my weight against it with my arm held up above his head. I angle my body to face him, my head bowed a little to make up for the height difference between us. “What’s your name?”
He scoffs and crosses his arms. “As if you don’t already know.”
I really don’t. Sure, I know who his father is, but I don’t keep tabs on his family shit. That’s way above my pay grade.
Nobody is inviting me over for barbecues or birthdays. That’s officer shit. I’m just one of the grunts.
“You shy?” I tease. “I’ll go first. My name is Joel. E-5,” I know his type likes pay grades. At my age, in my mid-thirties, it's not exactly impressive, but I’ve never been chomping at the bit to climb the chain of command.
It might be shitty, but I enjoy being in the shit.
And causing shit too.
To my surprise, he looks into my eyes instead of at my dog tags. “Julian,” he says, his tender pink mouth offering his name like a present.
I peer at his face. Julian is a skinny thing all right, but he’s still got baby fat clinging to his cheeks. “You really old enough to be here?” I ask.
His sweet mouth sours. “I’m between semesters,” Julian snaps, “at college.”
“They been teaching you how to suck dick there?”
Julian’s expression twists into a disbelieving pout. His eyes widen. His lips part and his jaw twitches. I mirror his expression. Just for fun. Though after a moment, my mouth breaks into a cheeky grin.
“You’re really rude.” Yet there’s no venom in the accusation. Julian’s sweetness is back on his mouth as he smiles at me. And as he moves. He stops leaning and gets to kneeling.
Yep, there it is. The crazy that Manuel tried to warn me about.
In the alleyway of the club, Julian opens up his mouth before my hands are even on my fly. No encouragement or cajoling need. He goes down and stays there.
Our words have dried up.
