“LOOK AT YOU picking me up for a date night.” West smirked as he strolled out of the Towers, hands in the pockets of his charcoal plaid pants, and looking entirely too irresistible.
I supposed he was wearing what he considered casual, along with a fitted black polo shirt, but he’d swapped out his fancy shoes for a pair of black sneakers. A good call, considering what I had planned for tonight.
“I didn’t think you owned anything other than loafers.” I grinned as I walked his way.
“I think you’ll find I own at least one of everything.”
I shook my head. “Snob.”
West reached for my waist, pulling me in close. “Tight-ass.” He brushed his lips over mine, greeting me with a kiss I felt through my entire body. After spending last weekend with him, it didn’t occur to me that he was claiming my mouth in the open. Not when he’d been inside me. Something I was hoping would happen again sooner rather than later, but school and studying had gotten in the way the past few days.
“So. You gonna tell me where we’re going?” he asked, his arms still wrapped around me.
“Nope.”
“Well, at least tell my driver—”
“Oh no, no, no. It’s my turn to surprise you with a night out, and there will be no chauffeur.”
“That’s a joke, right? He can take us anywhere in the city you want to go—”
“So can the many other modes of transportation, and probably faster.” I ran my hands over his arms, pulling them from my waist. As I did, our fingers interlaced, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or him that had initiated the move. But there it was—the two of us holding hands on Park Avenue and heading out for a date night.
How was this my life?
“Come on, we can’t be late if we want a good seat.” I tugged him along, heading toward the train station across the street.
“You’re lucky you’re hot,” he grumbled, but the teasing lilt to his voice told me he was curious about what we’d be doing.
West had planned several surprises and nights out in the time I’d known him, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to reciprocate until now. We’d done the lavish meals, the extravagant clubs and parties, and those had all been things he enjoyed that I was open to. But now it was time for him to take a walk on my side of the city.
This was either going to be the best night ever or a total disaster. Either way, it’d be entertaining as hell to watch his reaction.
“I should’ve known you’d make us take the train,” he said, as we headed down the stairs.
“The fact that you call yourself a New Yorker is shocking, you know that?”
“So I shouldn’t admit I don’t own a MetroCard?”
“Oh my God. You poor little rich boy. You don’t need those anymore.” I pulled out my debit card, and as we approached the turnstile, I tapped it on the screen. “Go on through, Mr. LaRue.”
West’s answering laugh had me grinning as I tapped again for myself.
“Getting me out of my element. I see how the night’s gonna go.”
“Do you? Any guesses?”
“I can only imagine.” West’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed at the air. “Why does it smell like someone died?”
“In this heat? Someone probably did.”
“Lovely.” He turned to face me where we stopped to wait on the platform, and when he reached for my hands, I took a step toward him, lacing our fingers again. Something about it felt so right but also sent a wave of butterflies to wreak havoc in my stomach. “You know this means I must like you.”
“To brave my idea of a date night?” I teased.
He brushed his thumbs along my skin. “That too.”
I looked down at where we were connected, and the thought crossed my mind that it wasn’t just me experiencing something new here. West may have always been into guys, but he told me he’d never had a relationship, and I had a feeling even something like holding my hand was foreign to him.
I squeezed his fingers. “Yeah,” I said. “I think you do.”
“I HOPE YOU’RE hungry,” I said as we stepped out into the hustle and bustle of Second Avenue.
“For your cock? Fucking always.”
A few nearby pedestrians turned to stare, and I ran a hand over my face. “I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?”
“You did, but I was serious.”
“Yeah? Wanna drop to your knees right here on the sidewalk? Or maybe that alley over there?”
West took in our surroundings. “Not sure I want to get up close and personal with any needles tonight.”
“Well, shit. There go my plans.”
“I knew it. We’re getting tattoos from some burly motorcycle guy named Axel, aren’t we?”
I grinned. “You wanna get my name on your ass, we can do that later. For now?” I nodded toward East Village Pizza. “I’m stuffing my face.” Before West could open his mouth, I put a finger over his lips. “And not full of your dick. Yet.”
Then I winked and swung open the door, inhaling the scent of tomatoes, dough, and pepperoni. I wasn’t sure anything smelled better.
As West passed me, entering first, I suddenly realized that was no longer true. He had taken the top spot of the smell I couldn’t get enough of.
We both ordered massive slices of pepperoni at the counter, carrying them on paper plates as we headed back outside.
“You want to grab that table?” West nodded at an empty two-seater along the sidewalk as I bit into my slice. I had to pull at the melty strings of never-ending cheese before answering.
“Nah, we can walk and eat. The café’s not far.”
“A…café?” West folded his pizza and shook his head as he took a big bite. “Not what I expected.”
“It’s something you mentioned wanting to see, and I thought since we’re getting to know each other…” I shrugged. “I know it’s not your thing, but I figured you showed me yours, now I’ll show you mine.”
West raised a brow as he swallowed. “I do like that game. And this slice is damn good.”
“Yeah?” I said, pleased he’d liked my choice. “Next time we’ll have to get one of their double stacks. It’s a pizza on top of a pizza.” I kissed my fingers. “Eccellente.”
We continued eating, and I led us in the direction of the Poet Café, a place I knew for sure he’d never been or would ever think to go. I’d kept our destination a secret for obvious reasons. If I told him, he’d assume it was some quiet literary place where we’d have to whisper and consume extra-large cappuccinos. It definitely wasn’t that. It also wasn’t a club or bar atmosphere like he was used to, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t hate it.
At least, I hoped not.
I finished off my slice and tossed the paper plate in the trash, along with West’s. As the café came into view, I felt some nerves, but I shoved them aside. It wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t love this place as much as me, because it was my thing. The same as West going to… Well, Church was more his thing.
I still wanted him to have a good time and not end up running out of the place the way I had at Church. Although the aftermath in the limo had more than made up for the entire night.
Murals and graffiti covered the exterior of the unassuming Poet Café, and when West walked right by it and kept going, I called out his name. He turned around, looking at where I’d stopped and then up at the sign overhead. When comprehension dawned, I said, “We’re here.”
“Huh,” he said, heading back. “I was looking for a coffee shop or something.”
“Yeah, the name kinda throws you off, but it’s more like a bar.”
“And we’ll be…writing poetry in this bar?”
I laughed, taking his hand. “As much as I would love to see that, no. It’s slam night. We’ll just be watching.”
The all-brick interior was a lot like many of the spaces in the city—long, dim, and not all that wide. A random assortment of benches and chairs tightly packed the space, leaving only a path to walk in front of the bar.
Music blasted from the DJ spinning before the slams started, and already the place was packed. Usually I didn’t bother to hit up the bar, not while being underage, but West had managed to get me a better-looking fake ID than the one I’d been trying to pass off before, the bad influence. The alcohol selection wasn’t much at all, and what they did have was the bottom-shelf stuff guaranteed to give you a hangover, so we both grabbed sodas and squeezed through the crowd to find a couple of seats.
As we waited for the bottlenecked crowd to move, West flattened his hand against my stomach possessively as he pulled me back against him from behind. He rocked us from side to side to the beat, his breath tickling my neck as he said, “Feel like dancing?”
I shook my head. “I think your moves might get us kicked out of here.”
“Might be worth it…” His hand dipped lower, and I grabbed his wrist before things could turn indecent.
“You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”
“Never promised to be anything less. Besides, I think you like that about me.”
As he took my chin in hand, I murmured my agreement that soon got swallowed by his kiss. It never failed to ignite something hot and fiery in my gut, which was a smart reason to keep the PDA down when we were out. It made me want to do bad things to his body, and as a few of those visuals crossed my mind, my cock jerked behind my jeans.
“Dammit,” I said when I pulled my mouth away. I moved my hand over his and drew it down over the bulge in my pants to show him just why kissing him was dangerous. But West gave me a rough stroke, and I groaned and forced myself to shove his hand away as the crowd began to move again.
It wasn’t my fault I was greedy for his touch, not when we had to keep our distance at Astor. So many prying eyes, so many opinions. I was still getting used to whatever this was between us, and I wanted to keep it private a little longer, a want that West seemed to share. I didn’t know how much he’d told his friends about us, but I got the feeling it wasn’t much. He hadn’t asked me to go out with them for a group night lately, and had told me how much shit they’d been giving him for blowing them off. Surely they had guessed where he was spending his time?
Or maybe not.
I managed to snag two seats on the end of a row, giving West the aisle to stretch his long legs a little. His arm automatically went to rest on the back of my chair as he leaned in toward me.
“So how does all this work?”
I popped the tab on my soda, then reached over to do the same to his. “They let a certain number of people sign up to perform their slams and choose a few people in the audience to act as judges. They all get ranked, and the top five get to go again at the end of the night to narrow it down to a winner.”
“Does that mean I get to watch you perform tonight?”
I almost choked on my drink. “Uh, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t perform my poems. I just write them.”
“So no one gets to hear them? Read them?”
“Nope. Just me.”
West’s eyes shifted between me and the small stage at the front. “That hardly seems fair. They share with you, but you don’t return the favor?” The impish look in those blue eyes had me shaking my head.
“Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t. There’s no way I’m getting up there.”
“What if—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Still not happening.”
“Not even for me?” He moved his mouth toward my ear. “My very own private show?”
I groaned. If that turned out to be something West really wanted, I knew it would be hard to deny him. It would require a lot of alcohol on my part, and many assurances on his that there were no cameras or recording devices, but…maybe one day. Like one day far, far off in the future.
Lucky for me, the lights at the front of the stage flickered, and as the music shut off, the roar of the crowd gave me a reason not to answer West. He probably already knew he could wear me down anyway. No one could resist him when he put his mind to something.
As the host for the evening took to the stage, I felt West’s fingers playing with the curls at the nape of my neck and hid my smile behind my soda. For all his expensive tastes and giving me hell, he didn’t seem to hate the night too much so far. That could always change, but maybe it didn’t matter where we were if we were together.
Wow, I thought, taking a long swallow of my drink. That might be the sappiest shit I’ve ever thought.
