track four and a half

make way for mister awkward

“I could kill you if I really wanted to.”

“Exactly. The keyword is wanted in that sentence, and I know you really don’t want that to.” Vince grins coyly, cradling his beer bottle contently.

I merely breathe out tightly between my lips, frowning slightly.

I have no one but myself to blame, of course. I could’ve declined Vince’s invitation but Jake was convincing. I’ll admit, those puppy eyes of his aren’t that good but – I would’ve felt at least a little guilty leaving him with Vince and where they were heading.

Thus, I’m here.

“Don’t worry about it, Timmy, Vince is just playing around. We won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.” Jake’s voice is reassuring and low beside me, allowing a small relieved smile to tug on my lips.

With that, I slouch myself along the bar, tracing idle patterns on the wooden bar. I shift slightly in the bar stool, not exactly used to the feel of the awkward shape. All the while, hard beats boom in the background alongside lyrical melodies of music streaming in from the dance floor.

“At least the music is good enough.” I comment weakly, needing to maintain a conversation or my mind would wander.

In a place like this, my mind wandering would not be good. I’m sure of it.

“Yeah. The Sausage Factory is known for it’s good music—”

“And its notorious men.” Vince grins cheekily, taking a long gulp from his beer bottle as I suppress an embarrassed blush.

Jake’s heavy arm falls across my shoulders, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly and pressing me closer to his side.

I try that much harder to hold back the warmth that is building on my cheeks. I don’t need to embarrass myself even more, thank you very much.

“Loosen up, Timmy, Vince is trying to tense you up and it’s working. Don’t give in to his evil plans, makes him feel good.” Jake leans his face closer to my own, looking around inconspicuously. “And we don’t want that, now do we?” I note the bright and honest smile playing on his lips. I smile back uncertainly, chuckling nervously.

“You always make me out to be evil, Jake. Not only to the press but to Timmy, too… ” I can hear the rolling of Vince’s eyes as he states this warily.

I feel slightly bad for him because he’s a decent guy all around. Pushy, yes, but he’s only out to do good. Most of the time.

“Underneath all that sexy, mysterious, and dark façade – that’s all you are. Evil.” Jake even manages to say that pseudo seriously before breaking out into a sheepish grin, stifling a soft chuckle.

Jake could never lie – at least for long, anyway. I’ve only known him for a good two years, but I’ve still been able to learn a few things about him along the way. And one of those things, is the fact Jake can’t lie for a can of beans. Jake has a wholesome aura around him; kind and honest to those he trusts. And those he doesn’t? Just as kind and honest, except Vince is there to watch his back for him. Vice versa with Jake.

I’m always the odd one out, though. The two have known each other for six years. Compared to my measly two years with the both of them – things are still a little awkward.

I’m trying, though.

“And you love it.” Vince breathes huskily before wrapping long arms around Jake’s neck, pulling him towards him and off of me. He begins to drop sloppy kisses all over Jake, Jake not resisting but chortling goodheartedly and blushing slightly.

Vince is a very touchy feely person – especially with Jake. Poor guy.

Something prods at my shoulder and I turn around in my seat, wanting to avoid looking at Jake and Vince’s friendly antics anyway.

A tall and lithe man stands in front of me, a smile plastered on his lips that seems so welcoming – it was nice.

“Hi, I was just wondering… you wouldn’t happen to be Timmy Reed, would you? Drummer from Hybrid Satyromaniacs?”

“Straight drummer from Hybrid Satyromaniacs? Yeah.” I nod sheepishly, catching the fleeting hint of disappointment tugging at the corner of his lips.

Was it because of something I said? Nothing wrong with being the straight drummer from Hybrid Satyromaniacs, right?

It disappears just as quickly as it appears, a certain dimness glowing in his eyes.

“Well… wow. That’s great. I’m sorta’ proud of myself for recognizing you from half a dance floor away. Heh, but yeah… I think you’re really good. At what you do, that is – you’ve got skill.” I blush at the kind words, avoiding his encouraging gaze and rubbing the back of my neck shyly.

“Thanks, I really appreciate that… glad someone likes what I do… ”

“Someone? Don’t think I’m the only one, there are thousands of people who enjoy what you do – millions, even.” My face flushes even more as the man inches closer, resting a friendly hand on me. “You’re just modest.” He smiles, and something about the combination of his hand on my knee and his smile – pulls at something in the pit of my stomach.

“Modesty gets at the best of us,” his smile quirks at my shy words.

“And awes the rest of us.” He supplies softly, looking down and watching his hand on my knee.

I hold back the urge to squirm.

“Do you wanna’… dance?” He looks up at me when he asks this, no smile but a patient line instead. My breath hitches and my leg begins to get jittery. “By any chance… ?” Again with the soft voice but this time I seem to notice the manly but feminine lilt to it.

He’s a man. A nice man – but a man all the same. And I’m the straight drummer from Hybrid Satyromaniacs.

How does this work?

“I understand… ” he tears his gaze from my own, looking down and watching the fidgety jump of my legs; especially the leg where his hand rests on my knee. “I didn’t mean to impose, I just thought… ” his hand slips from my knee, the nice warmth slipping away with it also.

“… wrong.” I manage, jumping slightly when his gaze climbs back to my own. Dark brown wisps of hair fall into his eyes, but he continues to look at me. “I’m not comfortable dancing because I’m not good at it, but… can we still talk? Erm, hang out maybe? Y’know… ” I’m really not good at rejecting men, it’s harder with this guy, though; he’s genuinely nice and… I could see myself being friends with him.

He smiles an honest and open smile, a glitter of understanding and thoughtfulness in his amber eyes. I breathe a sigh of relief, an awkward and shy smile dancing on my lips.

“That’s good, too.” He shuffles closer, bringing a slender hand up and pressing it gently against my forehead. “I’m Nikita Pierre. Don’t ask, it’s an interesting combination, I know.” I chuckle, nodding fervently.

I’m glad he seems to understand my situation. He has a funny name to top it off, but… it suits him in a weird, amusing way, too.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Nikita Pierre.” I laugh quietly, removing his hand from my forehead and laughing more at the playful pout that adorns his lips.

“I liked touching you… ” he whines, a familiar warmth sneaking up on me at his words and his form now snuggling between my legs.

I freeze at the movement.

He winds an arm around my waist, the other hand coming up and tousling the mussed strands at the back of my head. I blush furiously and try to look away, but his hooded amber eyes and thick eyelashes keep me bound.

“You know… ” he murmurs, tugging thoughtfully at some of my strands. “You always seem to categorize yourself as the straight drummer from Hybrid Satyromaniacs… even now, when I asked you who you were… you were sure to change it around so you were recognized as being straight.” I wriggle on the stool, not only my face flushed but my ears too. He doesn’t seem to notice, he simply tugs the back of my head down, closer to his own face. “Why do you have to do that… ? Why can’t you just see everything for what it is… ? Not for whether it’s homosexual or heterosexual. It makes you seem ignorant, when I know… you’re not.” He whispers the last few words strangely, hauntingly pressing themselves into the palette of my mouth and lodging themselves there. I couldn’t say a word. “Don’t be like that… ” the soft words lead to a chaste press of his lips against my own, catching me by surprise. He pulls back, amber eyes glittering, dark strangles of hair still fallen across them. I flinch, his alcohol left on my breath. “You’ll only miss out on some things if you do.” I shiver at the words he breathes, the hooded quality of his eyes, the bow of his lips, and the reassuring strokes of his fingers in my hair.

Now… how does this work?