She said no.

‘Sorry, can’t tonight. I got company over.’

Company…

Of course, this could mean many things. However, the combination of the insecurity of being a bad partner and booze made a terrible mix. I promised not to get fucked up, but I went two years without getting shitfaced, I deserved a little reward. While I sulked next to Money, Sam was mingling with Mike, owner of the bar.

Mike’s was a cozy place, thankfully only allowing people he knew in there due to the pandemic, a welcome change from the dingy bars in Oakland.

I groaned, downing the Hennessy I was given. I just wanted to black out. Mike’s was within walking distance from my house, but I knew I couldn’t expect Sam and Money to carry me home.

I felt stupid for feeling this worried. She didn’t have anybody over.

But what if she did?

I requested another shot. I needed to get out of my own head. Money saw my misery and leaned in adjusting his glasses as he sipped his soda. “You good, bro?”

I was properly tipsy, answering with an annoyed groan. “Can I lie?”

“No.”

“Then no. I’m not.”

Money shook his head lowly, patting my back. “You wanna talk about it?”

I thought about it. I wanted to rant, but I had that familiar guilt of not ranting to others, feeling bad for saddling them with my own problems. It was my fault for not having the balls to ask Carter out. It was my fault for feeling jealous for a single woman. It was all my fault. I didn’t deserve to have somebody else share the burden of my issues. After all, it’s what made me not call my parents for five months. “Nah. I’ll be fine.”

Money looked at his drink, wanting to say something, his jaw clenched, deciding against it. “You always say that, dude.”

“Well, I ain’t broke down yet.”

“Key word is yet.”

I chuckled lightly, sipping and sitting up slightly in my chair. “Come on, bro. You know me. I ain’t the type to go down so easily.”

Money relented, shaking his head slowly. “You know I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Of course, bro.” We dapped each other up, chuckling. We conversed about random topics. The state of the world and how it’s taking a toll on our mental state. Money always had a lot of people to take care of. He has a wife and son after all. They aren’t struggling, but the museum work has taken a toll on Money’s mindset. I suggested he take a home vacation, and just lie low for a week.

Eventually, the three went to the other side of the counter, as I lost my self-control, drinking my booze, shot after shot, just attempting to forget Carter for just one night. It wasn’t working. Just when I think I did, and I can pass out on the counter, I can’t and the pit feelings in my stomach would return. I hated every second of it.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

While my head was down, my senses elevated to hear everything that was happening at the bar. The laughing, the taunting, and all the fun the men were having while I had a petty mental crisis. I heard the door open, letting the cold wind seep through.

“Heya, Anthony,” I heard Mike’s voice say, all gravely and guff.

A hum escaped Anthony’s mouth, as he responded. “Pleasure to see you, Mike. Got the usual?”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

I didn’t bother to raise my head, but I swore I heard his voice before. His voice sounded rather smooth, and deep. It was strangely perfect like it was almost trained to not crack or falter. I ignored that hunch and continued to keep my head on the counter, eyes closed, and tuning out the conversation.

For like, two minutes.

I heard the deep voice speak to my immediate left like it was God himself giving me a conversation. “Excuse me…”

I looked up, and the God analogy wasn’t far off. His skin was a beautiful bronze, his black hair was long and flowing touching his shoulders, and he was built like a slim masterpiece. He was slim, but I could tell he was ripped under his coat. I was entranced. His chiseled jaw looked sculpted. In my inebriated state, my jaw hung open at his looks. “Y-Yeah…?”

“You look familiar. You wouldn’t happen to be Kris, right? The Rockstar?”

It clicked. He was Anthony Thomas, another guy I heard about in MMW. The babyface that made the whole town love him with his perfect attitude. The was their first Native American champion, a huge accomplishment in a town that was surrounded by more white than snow. I nodded. “You must be Anthony. Hulwater’s poster boy.”

He laughed at my joke. Something I was quite into as well. He piqued my interest, something to distract me from Carter finally. “Something like that. But I remember Independence Bash and those Twitter clips. You’re the indie darling, not me.”

I scoffed as he sat next to me. “Because I’m dumb enough to take those bumps.”

“It’s pretty admirable,” He said with a charming smile. Mike handed him a spiked lemonade. He took a reserved sip. “Can I say that I’m a fan? It’s a little embarrassing.”

I scoffed as I downed the rest of my drink. “Mannn, don’t be like that. You’re like super cool. And my god, you look perfect!”

He widened his eyes at my compliment, taking another small sip. “Perfect, I’ve never heard that one before.”

I paused before saying anything dumb. My face went hot, and I rubbed my face in embarrassment. “Sorry…I’m fucking stupid.”

“No, no…I liked the compliment.” Anthony scooted closer.

My eyes widened. “In what way?”

“Well, it depends on what way you meant it.”

Fuck. He got me.

He explained to me he was closeted. I was an open bisexual, so I understood why he kept it under wraps. Especially considering where he wrestled. After a short bout of flirting, I invited him over to my place. He accepted.

As we walked in the cold night, Christmas lights dancing, slightly tipsy, and laughing, Anthony started to speak. “Man, it feels good to finally talk to somebody like me. You don’t understand how many older women wanted me.”

I looked down at his backside, nodding. “I understand why.”

He laughed. The booze removed some of his reserved calculated speech into more of a human. “That’s a good one. I’ll remember that when I get my revenge.”

I made a face. “The fuck does that mean?”

He showed me.

We didn’t reach the upstairs when we moved to make out. We sloppily kissed, With me pinning him to the wall to finally get a grip on him. I started with his hips, traveling up to feel his abs and perfect stomach, He felt on my face, rubbing my cheeks and hair. We parted for the moment, panting as I gestured to the stairs, removing our coats. We ran upstairs, where I showed him to my bed. We didn’t need it, as he showed me what his revenge plot was. He pushed me to the wall that time, his hands trailing down my pecs and v-line to grab a handful of the bulge in my jeans. My eyes popped out in surprise, as I felt myself grow harder at the rough massage. He never broke eye contact as he loosened my belt and dropped my pants, walking me over to the bed, my dick in hand.

“I’m gonna ride you so fucking hard…” Anthony murmured, fully taken over by lust.

I went on the bed back first waiting for my dance partner to join me, using spit as a poor attempt to slick it up. I didn’t have lube on standby, or condoms. Anthony seemed to not care. He threw his pants to the side, and after sudden improvisation with his fingers to lube himself, he mounted, kissing me as led my equipment to his ass.

Suddenly, I felt a deep hinge of guilt as I felt him ease down on my cock, his moan of pleasure making things worse. It felt rough since we had hardly prepared for it.

Carter. Why was I thinking about her now? Did I think I was cheating on her? Did I feel bad for jumping to conclusions? Did I only agree to fuck Anthony for petty revenge on somebody who didn’t even know I was doing this?

I can’t do this. I couldn’t do this.

“W-Wait!” I yelled.

Anthony stopped immediately, looking at me with concern.

I had to make up a lie. “This is…sudden. C-can we…wait?”

He was panting, so ready to fuck, I could see the disappointment on his face. “Yeah…we can…”

“I know you’re tipsy…so you can sleep here. Only if you want to.”

He got off me, sitting on the bed. After careful thought, he nodded. “We can call it…a sleepover.”

I chuckled, voice laden with guilt. “Yeah. A sleepover.”