Back Piece Page 6

  “Tell me about it.” Daniel smiled. “But it’s been all right.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Their eyes met. Then Daniel looked away and Colin followed suit.

  It was one thing when they’d been subtly checking each other out, when every word was possibly some flirtation but possibly not. But now they’d both laid the I’m gay card faceup on the table, and somehow that made things different.

  Did straight people go through this? Testing the water to make sure they were even in a category that registered on the other person’s radar before they moved on to “Are you into me?” Colin had no idea. All he knew was he was gay, Daniel was gay, and there were way too many people around.

  Just give me a few minutes alone with you in a not-so-professional capacity.

  A moment later, the waitress arrived with their food, which was a welcome distraction from the awkward silence. For a second, anyway. As she put their plates in front of them, Colin’s stomach lurched. The picture on the menu had made the grilled chicken breast look a lot smaller. There was no way he was eating this entire thing tonight, especially not with a guy sitting across from him who might’ve been a little bit interested in maybe seeing him with his clothes off eventually.

  Yep, definitely running an extra mile tomorrow if I eat this.

  If I eat it. Should I eat it?

  He glanced at Daniel, who was drizzling some yellow mustard onto a small pile of fries as if he wasn’t the least bit worried about calories or running a mile and a half to make up for them. Lucky man.

  Colin turned his attention back to his meal.

  Oh God. I can’t eat.

  On the other hand, he didn’t need to let Daniel see how fucked up he was in the head. Ordering something like this and not touching it would be much more conspicuous than eating a reasonable portion of it and taking the rest to go. Daniel wouldn’t be there to see Colin running that extra two miles tomorrow.

  So he made a mental note to add the meal to his food log once he was out of Daniel’s sight, and to set his alarm earlier so he could get in that extra two and a half miles.

  Chapter 8

  Colin was right—food was exactly what Daniel needed. After a cold drink and just a few bites of his Cuban sandwich, Daniel wasn’t so jittery anymore.

  That wasn’t to say he felt completely back to normal yet, and he suspected it would be a while before he was. For that matter, as much as he was happy to use it as a convenient excuse so he could save face, he didn’t think the tattoo had a lot to do with it.

  Surreptitiously, he watched the gorgeous inked man sitting across from him. He let his gaze rest for a few seconds on Colin’s arms, which stretched his T-shirt sleeves just right to make Daniel forget how to use a fork. And that tattoo slipping under his collar? Daniel had ogled that every damn time he’d been in the same room with him, but for some reason, it was really fucking with him tonight. Every time Colin moved, and the collar slid up or down to reveal or hide more of those curving red and black lines, Daniel’s mind went straight to wondering what that spot would taste like. Or if his fingers or tongue would be able to tell the difference between inked and untouched skin.

  Ink or not, I want to touch you so fucking bad.

  As if he hadn’t wanted to since the first moment he’d laid eyes on Colin. After spending the last couple of hours with Colin’s hands on him tonight, though, and knowing now for sure that Colin was gay, he couldn’t get the thought out of his spinning head.

  He took another bite, not tasting the Cuban at all, just to give the appearance that everything was normal.

  Colin couldn’t have known how much he was making Daniel jittery. Blood sugar, yeah. Endorphin crash, sure. Incredibly hot tattoo artist with his hands all over Daniel’s skin? Fuck yes. The pain had probably been more of a blessing than a curse—Daniel was pretty sure it had been the only thing that had kept him from popping an awkward boner.

  Sitting across from him now, Daniel had to keep reminding himself this was a post-tattoo recovery dinner, not a date. Colin had invited him out to make sure he was all right. Nothing more.

  But damn if he could convince himself. Especially not with his skin still tingling everywhere Colin—not the tattoo needle—had touched him.

  Colin met his gaze, and his eyebrows rose a little. “Feeling any better?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel smiled, hoping he didn’t look like an idiot. “Much. Thanks. This was a good idea. Stomach’s still settling a bit, but it’s better.”

  “Ah.” Colin relaxed, as if he’d been seriously worried. “That happens sometimes, too. Just, uh, go easy.” He continued eating, but even more slowly than before.

  Silence fell, and Daniel didn’t know how to fill it. He wanted to squirm. Being jittery and queasy after a tattoo might’ve been completely normal, but it was embarrassing in front of someone who’d spent many, many more hours than him under a needle. The longer they went without talking, the more conspicuous he felt. Who knew it could be this uncomfortable for a newly deflowered tattoo virgin to have a goddamned dinner with his artist? Especially when that artist was insanely attractive and nice and not even a little shy about casually mentioning he was gay? What the hell were they supposed to talk about?

  Nerves got the best of him, and after he’d washed down a bite of his sandwich, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So are you out to your family?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Daniel cringed. Could he be any more awkward?

  But Colin just nodded. “I think they knew before I did, honestly.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I came out when I was fifteen, and they didn’t seem all that surprised. I’m not sure what gave it away, but . . .” He shrugged.

  Daniel blinked. Colin might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Parents realizing he was gay? “And they . . . It didn’t bother them?”

  Colin shook his head. “Nah. In fact, I kind of wish they’d said something sooner. Would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.”

  “So you didn’t think they’d take it well?”

  “Does any kid?” He laughed dryly. “I mean, I have a friend who freaked out about telling his folks, and his dad was gay.”

  Daniel’s jaw dropped.

  Colin waved a hand. “Obviously that one went okay, and he felt kind of stupid afterward. I mean, his dad had been with his boyfriend since my friend was in kindergarten.” He brought his drink up to his lips, and chuckled as he said, “Even if his dad was straight, what was he going to do? Try to pray the gay away?”

  Daniel didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. Just thinking about having that conversation with his parents still paralyzed him, and it wasn’t any better knowing that other people—even someone whose own father was gay—also struggled. If they were afraid of their parents’ reactions, was he underestimating how much his parents would flip out?

  “What’s wrong?” Colin put his drink down and studied Daniel from across the table. “Your family don’t know, do they?” His voice was so soft, it barely carried over the restaurant’s background noise. There was no judgment or criticism in his tone. If anything, there was a distinct note of genuine empathy.

  “No. They don’t.”

  “Do you want them to know?”

  Daniel’s heart thumped against his ribs. This wasn’t a conversation he liked having with anyone, never mind a complete stranger, but opening up to Colin was borderline irresistible. Like he’d been keeping all this to himself for so long, and now that he’d found a sympathetic ear, he didn’t want to squander it.

  He took a breath. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on either side of his plate, clasping his hands loosely above the food he wasn’t interested in anymore. “I’m terrified of telling them, to be honest. You know those churches that protest funerals and blame every natural disaster on gay people?”

  Colin’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he nodded.

  “My family and their church aren’t that bad,” Daniel sa
id. “But they’re not far from it, either. When it comes to this, I mean.” He sighed. “The thing is, I’m really close to them. I love them. But they’re holding up anti-gay signs at every Pride event within two hundred miles.”

  “I don’t think most queer people go to that many Pride events.”

  Daniel managed a quiet laugh. “Right? And they dragged me to a few when I was a teenager.” He pressed his lips together as the memory threatened to bring his sandwich back up. “Those protest lines outside of Pride events? Not a good place for a closeted kid. Especially not when your mom, your dad, and everyone you’ve ever known is standing there shouting at people that they’re going to hell.”

  Colin winced. “Especially when they’re shouting at people like you.”

  “Yeah. Especially . . .” Out of nowhere, that queasy feeling turned into a lump in his throat, and Daniel took a quick swallow of his drink so he could collect himself. Suddenly it wasn’t just his new tattoo that felt tender and raw. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d needed someone to get it. Which might’ve happened sooner if he’d talked to someone before tonight.

  “You all right?” Colin asked gently.

  Daniel nodded. He cleared his throat and met Colin’s gaze. “So yeah. I can’t imagine coming out to my folks.” He shuddered. “They would lose their minds.”

  Colin gave a slow, subtle nod. “With most people, I’d say you never know. I mean, I thought my parents would lose their shit. But yours . . .” He scowled. “You’re probably right.”

  “Yeah.” Daniel released a long breath. “Anyway. You didn’t bring me here to hear about—”

  “Daniel.” Colin’s smile was warm and not the least bit condescending. “Relax. We can talk about this if you want to.”

  I don’t know if want to is the phrase I’d use.

  Daniel drummed his fingers nervously beside his glass. “I swear I only came for a tattoo tonight. Feels like I’m asking for a bit more than I paid for, you know?”

  “Listen.” Colin pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on the table as he looked right into Daniel’s eyes. “I’ve lost people in my life to homophobia. Quite a few who didn’t want anything to do with me when I came out, but I’ve also literally lost people. One killed herself because her parents disowned her. One did the same because his ex-boyfriend raped him, and his friends and family focused on the fact that he’d had a boyfriend in the first place instead of the fact that he’d been assaulted.”

  Daniel’s throat tightened around his breath. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. So.” Colin swallowed. “You barely know me, and I know I’m supposed to be the professional and all that shit tonight. But man-to-man, if you ever need someone to talk to about this, you know where to find me.”

  Blood pounded in Daniel’s ears. “I . . . thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  They locked eyes. Colin had no idea what he was signing up for. To say Daniel had baggage that didn’t fit quite in the overhead compartment was an understatement. Given the chance and a listening ear, he could’ve filled an entire night with crap that was better spilled to a therapist.

  “I really appreciate it.” He cleared his throat again. “And I think I could use a drink. Of the adult variety.”

  Colin laughed, and thank God, some of the tension eased. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “You can still drive?”

  “After one drink?” Colin snorted as he flagged down the waitress. “Tell you what—if it’s too strong for me to drive, we’ll stick around for an hour or so to let me sober up.”

  Daniel chuckled. “Deal.”

  Please, please order something strong so we don’t have to leave.

  As they ordered—a rum and Coke for Daniel, a Seven and Seven with Diet 7Up for Colin—Daniel’s heart was back to racing like it had when he’d walked into the tattoo shop tonight. The jittery feeling was back in full force, but it had nothing to do with the freshly carved lines burning beneath his shirt.

  Physical attraction was one thing. The ability to carry on a conversation was another. But finding himself at a table with the man he’d been lusting after, talking about things he hadn’t been able to tell anyone else, and realizing he was with someone who believed him and understood him and genuinely gave a shit . . .

  He drained the last of his original drink, and stole another glance at Colin.

  You were attractive before we got here tonight.

  Now I don’t know how to breathe around you.

  * * *

  By the time they left the restaurant, it was well after eleven. A drink had turned into two, and then they’d had to kill an hour or so just to make sure Colin was safe to drive. Daniel could have driven—he had a sailor’s alcohol tolerance, after all—but that would’ve ended the evening much too early.

  They’d steered the conversation away from the heavier topics and kept it that way. For the rest of the evening, they stayed on safer subjects like the last few abominations Hollywood had released, a few shenanigans from their respective jobs, and how in the world that one waiter had such a stunning ass.

  As they settled up the bill—which Daniel insisted on paying—he was disappointed to see the evening winding down, but he couldn’t argue. Colin had been nice enough to take him out and make sure he was steady before sending him out on the road for the night, and he’d offered a more empathetic ear than Daniel’d had any right to ask for. It would’ve been rude to try to keep him out later. Besides, he needed to get going anyway. He had to be up early for muster tomorrow, and Colin probably had to work, too.

  After the short drive from the restaurant, Colin parked in front of the tattoo shop next to Daniel’s truck, and they both got out of the car. As he stepped out, Daniel was still jittery, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with his still-tender tattoo. It wasn’t something he could blame on alcohol or low blood sugar, either. This was a whole different breed of jittery. One that intensified every time Colin so much as glanced in his direction. And every time he looked any other way.

  Christ. Stop being an idiot.

  Maybe his buddies were right when they told him he should just sign up for Grindr, find a hookup or two, and get laid. Of course, they were telling him how to get over an as-of-recently-ex-boyfriend who didn’t actually exist. But that technique did have potential to help him leave behind his very real and very annoying virginity. Maybe then he could stop being so relentlessly horny for a few minutes, and then maybe he could think.

  Think about, say, the painfully gorgeous man who’d tattooed him tonight. And how Daniel’s attraction to him had escalated in the course of an evening, ratcheting from I’m desperate to finally have sex all the way up to I want to get drunk on you.

  Colin spun his keys around his finger, the subtle clink-clunk breaking the silence and jarring Daniel into reality. How long had they been standing here like idiots without saying anything?

  He shifted his weight. “So, um, thanks again. For . . . well, everything. I feel a hell of a lot better now that I’ve eaten.” And after we talked. My God.

  Colin smiled. “Don’t mention it. How’s the tattoo feel?”

  “A little sore, but it’s okay.”

  “Yeah, that’s to be expected,” Colin said. “Remember what I said—don’t let it dry out and do not pick at it.”

  Daniel saluted playfully. “Yes, sir.”

  More silence. This was probably the part where they were supposed to say good-bye, wrap it up, and get the hell out of here.

  Let the man go home, you idiot.

  “Anyway, uh . . .” Daniel fidgeted. “I still have that idea for another design. The bigger one.” He gestured over his shoulder. “For my back.”

  “You’re still interested?” Colin grinned playfully. “After tonight?”

  Like you wouldn’t believe.

  Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, I am. So, maybe I could come by? Talk about some sketches?”

  That doesn’t sound like an excuse to be in
the same room with you, does it?

  Because it kind of is.

  Totally is.

  Colin’s lips curled into a subtle smile, sending a not-so-subtle shiver through Daniel. “Sure. Definitely. Just, you know, shoot me a text before you come by. Make sure I’m here.” He paused. “Not that I’m ever anywhere else unless I’m . . .” He nodded toward the gym.

  Daniel laughed. “Workaholic?”

  “Little bit, yeah.”

  “Seems like a cool job, so I guess I can see why.”

  Colin just chuckled.

  Silence. Again.

  Yet another moment when they could bow out and call it a night. But Daniel didn’t move. And Colin didn’t move. And the moment went on, and Daniel’s stomach fluttered with nerves, and even though he should have left, for God’s sake . . .

  “So, do you usually take your clients out to dinner after a tattoo?”

  Colin laughed, shifting his attention to the pavement between them. “Not usually, no. But I didn’t want you passing out or something on the way home.”

  “Aw, damn. And here I thought I was special.”

  Colin’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and Daniel’s heart skipped.

  Oh God. Why are you looking at me like that?

  Why don’t I want you to stop?

  Oh God. What’s happening?

  “I, um . . .” Colin cleared his throat. “I do try to keep things professional with clients. And I know that ship’s kind of sailed already tonight.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “But I . . .” He broke eye contact again, his brow creased like he was trying to figure out how to finish his sentence.

  Daniel’s pulse sped up. “But . . . ?”

  Colin met his gaze again. And held it. God, he held it.

  Daniel’s heart didn’t seem like it could beat any faster, but apparently it could. Especially when Colin took a step closer. Then another. Every muscle in Daniel’s body tensed—there was no misinterpreting the lack of distance between them. No way in hell he could misread a man—a gay man—looking in his eyes and standing so close that all it would take was a light breeze to make their T-shirts brush.