Chapter 1: The Hunk and the Wallflower

I hate clubs.

I always feel like I'm a slab of meat at the market. A piece of gristle.

There are guys here with their shirts off and tucked into the waistband of their jeans because they know their six-pack abs are hot. And they really, really are.

But I'm not a "take-your-shirt-off" kind of guy, nor am I the kind of guy that even attempts to be.

I'm the wallflower sitting at the one bar with seats trying to drown my sorrows in Vodka Red Bulls.

It's not that I wouldn't want to go out there and dance. I love the music they play at clubs, but I'm just not good at dancing with people I don't really know, and no one asks.

So it's clearly obvious that I'm just slightly uncomfortable.

The bartender comes over after five minutes of me trying to tag him down. He apologizes and asks me if I want another drink. I think, well, yeah, obviously if I flagged you down it's because I want a drink, but instead I ask him for another Vodka Red Bull. He smiles and takes my glass away, only to come back a moment later with a glass filled with light yellow liquid.

Make the jokes now people.

I grab my drink and take a sip. I don't know why I come to these places any more. Well, mostly it's because my friends constantly drag me from club to club and then completely ignoring me as they fan out to find their next boyfriend or trick of the evening. Then they get mad at me for leaving early and say that they were worried about what happened to me. "Yeah, I'm sure you were so worried about me," is my usual response dripping in sarcasm.

But tonight's gonna be the last night. I'm done with these insipid places, I tell myself. I down my last Vodka Red Bull and swivel around in my chair to get up and leave.

And bump right into some tall guy.

Down his drink goes, right onto the floor and the shoes of the guy next to me. The guy next to me gets pissed off and vacates his seat, probably to go run into the bathroom to try and clean his shoes off.

"I'm so sorry!" I scream at the guy I've just bumped into, if only because I can't hear a damn thing in this place. "Here, let me get you another drink."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he says back to me in some sort of a drawl, "it's probably a good sign that I should probably move to beer, anyway." He sits down next to me, and that's when I notice something.

That he's damn good looking.

I mean painfully good looking.

He's got some real nice blond hair, but it is cut really short so unless you're sitting next to him it's hard to tell that he actually has blond hair. Score one for me. I move my eyes downward and notice that even through his shirt he's got some nice arm muscles. True Religion jeans, I self-query as I notice the stitching of his pants, focusing way too much at the tightness of the jeans near his ass, and really good white leather loafers. This guy knows how to dress.

He orders a bottle of some beer I've never heard of, mostly because I'm a bitch drinker who drinks nothing other than Vodka cranberries. Or tonight, when I order Vodka Red Bulls because I'm being adventurous. The bartender seems to come to him much more quickly than a lot of the other guys in the place, and especially me.

I wonder if I should order another drink, I think to myself, mostly to keep myself sitting here next to the hot guy, but I laugh to myself and resign myself to heading home. I'm just about to get up when…

"Hey, you want another drink?"

I turn around. The hot guy has turned to me and asked me that question? I blink a little, trying to comprehend this fact, which I think makes me look crazy, but I don't scare him away. Instead he asks me again; maybe he thinks I didn't hear him.

"Uh, sure." I'm still flabbergasted but manage to pull it together. "I'll take a Vodka cranberry." I think to myself that I've probably had way too many Vodka Red Bulls.

The hot guy shakes his head. "You can't get a Vodka cranberry, that's such a cop out." He then orders something from the bartender and motions his head in my direction. Guess he wants to make sure the bartender knows who it's for.

The bartender comes over with a taller glass and winks at me. I blush a little in response and thank him, turning back to the hot guy as I take a sip of my drink.

"It's a Sex on the Beach," the hot guy tells me. So that's what this is? It's good.

He takes a swig from his beer bottle and puts it down on the bar. "What's your name?"

I put my drink down after I take another sip. "I'm Will. And yours?"

He looks at me with a little bit of confusion, but he then answers the question. "Name's Brandon."

Brandon. This guy definitely looked like a Brandon.

"So, Will, what brings you to the Prowl this evening?" The Prowl was currently the hottest gay club in all of Philadelphia, located right in the heart of the Gayborhood next to a Starbucks and a dance studio.

"Uh, a few of my friends and I decided to come." I paused for a moment. "Well, my friends dragged me here. I'm not really one for clubs."

The hot guy turned completely towards me. "Really? Well why is that?" It's at this juncture that I notice his beautiful blue eyes and an amazing smile. At that point I thought I would just go ahead and melt.

More stammering. "Um, uh, well I'm not really good at meeting people by going out on the dance floor." Stupid, stupid answer.

Brandon laughs at my answer and my obvious awkwardness. "No, you just bump into them. I see where this is going." His smile grows into a great big grin and I get a tingling sensation in my lower back, but my face doesn't give away the fact that I find this guy incredibly attractive. I just look annoyed a bit, or at least to him I do, so he apologizes for the bad joke.

"It's all right. I deserve that," I say to him.

His grin goes back down to a small smile. So damn charming.

"So, what do you do, Will?" I love how he says my name. He has to be from the south somewhere with that sexy drawl of his.

Can't think straight.

"Sorry, what was the question?" I pretend not to hear him. Sadly I was too busy ogling to pay attention, and now I just feel like an ass.

"Work? What do you do?"

My brain turned back on. "Oh, I still go to school. I'm getting my Master's Degree in Anthropology at Penn."

Brandon was a little taken aback at first, but quickly put a little smirk back on his face. "Wow, aren't you a smart one. And you came here?"

I chuckled a little bit. Hey, it wasn't my idea.

"All right, same question. What do you do, Brandon?"

I'm not sure he heard me. Maybe he did, but if he did it sure as hell took him a hell of a long time to answer. I ask the question again though, just to make sure.

"Oh, uh, I don't really work. Get most of my money from the stock market."

I start to wonder a little bit about this guy. He gets his money from the stock market? I think about getting up right then and there if only I didn't take a look at his wrist and find a TAG Heuer watch there. Okay, the guy's rich, but still it's a little weird.

He must guess that I'm a little freaked out by his answer, because he adds, "I spend most of my time working for charities. Boys and Girls Club's the biggest."

Okay, I feel a little better. "So that IS a halo over your head!" I flick his pretend halo and laugh, and he fake-punches my arm. Though it was just pretend, he packs quite a punch and I almost lose my balance. Realizing I haven't had any of my drink in the last few minutes because I've been so distracted, I take it and start drinking again.

Brandon, in turn, seemed to grab his beer bottle by the neck and guzzle it down. Within a few seconds, he slams it back down, and I see that he's finished the rest of his beer in one go. He turns his attention back to me and asks, "C'mon, let's go dance."

I almost spit up my drink on myself. "Uh, no, I'm a really bad dancer."

"Oh, c'mon, you can't be that bad!" He gets up off of his bar stool.

"No, no, I'm really that bad. I don't dance."

Brandon grabs my hand and my heart feels like it's being pounded on by some rock band drummer. "Well, than I'll be your first." I gulp the rest of my drink and barely get the glass back onto the table as he coyly drags me onto the dance floor.

The dance floor is the last place I ever thought I would find myself with a guy I'd never thought I would be with. A remix of Ke$ha's "We R Who We R" is on, the bass of the song is making the floor vibrate a little, and no one seems to notice. I can smell the sweat dripping off the hard bodies and the testosterone being ground between people who are dancing awfully close.

Hey, when in Rome.

I start to shuffle back and forth, getting into the groove of the music. But before I know it Brandon's grinding up against me, and holy God hold the phone because I can feel something brush up against my backside and it's gotta be really noticeable.

I've dated a few guys in my life, but I'm pretty sure none of them had that.

A few friends of mine see me from across the dance floor and wave, but I don't care. I am feeling too...damn...good to stop what I'm doing to return the wave. Because even though I haven't taken off any of my clothes I'm still getting really excited on this dance floor.

And especially when I realize that Brandon's taken off his shirt.

I turn around and come face to face with what must be the best six pack I've ever seen. No, it wasn't a six pack - it's definitely eight. I can't stop staring at it, and now he knows I can't stop staring at it, because he's taking hold of my wrists and...now he's making me feel him up. Well, it's not as though I didn't want to do it in the first place.

I'm so distracted by him that I'm not even noticing the hand that has come around and rested around my stomach.

I turn around in a panic and realize it's just Jake. Roommate and friend Jake who always seems to think that I'm his wingman or his backup plan. Which I fall for every time because he's hot and knows how to push my buttons and piss me off in just the right way, but now I'm just annoyed by his presence.

"Hey, stud muffin, what's shakin'?" Ugh, great. Now he's using the pet names. At least he has some twink he just met next to him, hanging all over him like some vine plant, so that means I'm off the hook for the night.

I roll my eyes and make the introductions. "Brandon, this is Jake. Jake, Brandon."

Jake does the usual scan of Brandon and looks confused. His friend for the evening pulls on Jake's shoulder and clearly is feeling uncomfortable because no one's paying attention to him. "Oh, right, this is Shawn."

Shawn introduces himself to Brandon but then tries to throw visual daggers at me. As if I dragged his bony little ass over here for no reason. Sometimes I just don't get people.

I explain to Brandon that Jake's my roommate, but then he has to go and try and ruin things for me. "And sometimes he's a little more than that, right Will?" He pokes me in the stomach with his elbow and I have the strangest feeling that I want to try living by myself for a while.

Brandon, however, doesn't notice a thing, or if he does he's not letting on. "Oh, cool. So I have you to thank for getting this hot guy to come out tonight?"

He wraps his arms around me, and I blush. I've never really had someone pay this much attention to me.

"Obviously. Will's not a club guy. He'd rather spend most of his Friday nights making popcorn and watching sad, awful movies that..."

I "accidentally" step on Jake's foot. Hard. He screams and winces in pain and goes to run off to the nearest chair, Shawn trying to keep him upright and almost failing the whole way.

I turn around and apologize to Brandon. He shrugs it off.

"Don't even worry about it. He seems...interesting."

I laugh a little, which makes him grin widely, which only makes me laugh harder because I'm nervous.

Back to dancing. The Black Eyed Peas' "Boom Boom Pow" is on, which just makes me want Chinese food for some reason. But it's got a good beat and soon I find myself lip syncing the words. By the time the song gets to the lyric I'm a beast when you turn me on, I've gotten so into my groove and I'm pressed up so close to Brandon I've lost myself in the beat.

"So, you don't dance, huh?" He asks me with a smirk on his face as some techno song comes on that I don't recognize. Okay, I'm busted.

"This isn't my first time, you know."

Brandon's face gets so close to mine his forehead comes to rest upon mine. "Are we still talking about dancing, or are we..." He proceeds to cup my ass through my jeans and plants a kiss on my lips.

I moan a little, and Brandon backs up a little. "Sorry, I don't know what just came over me. I never...I've never, nor would I..."

I don't give him time to finish the sentence. I find myself grabbing the back of his head just above his neck and holding on for dear life as we start kissing furiously right there in the center of the dance floor. We're still dancing a little bit, but it's more like we're getting to second base with a bit of writing set to some European techno. I lose myself in his mouth, and when I try to open his mouth a little to stick my tongue in he gladly lets me in.

MY GOD is making out with him amazing!

My toes are curling, I'm getting groped from the front and back, and I can't hear, see or smell anything other than this guy.

After about...oh, please, do you think I kept track of time? I was too busy making out like a ridiculous high schooler...we finally came up for air. Brandon and I just stared at each other for what seemed like forever as the two of us try and catch our breath.

Finally, as the music comes back into my head, he asks me the all-important question everyone wants to hear.

"D'ya want to come back to my place?"

I check my pockets. I have my cell phone, wallet and keys. I'm good to go.

The night I laid my eyes on you, I felt everything around me move. I got nervous when you looked my way, but you knew all the words to say. ~ iiO, Rapture

Author's Notes: Okay, so basically this story's a creative sidepiece while I try and get my other two stories out, but I have the distinct feeling I'll want to continue this a whole lot faster than the other two, especially because I'm planning on switching this to M eventually. I'm gonna try and keep it as T as possible until I decide to make the switch.

I just came back from a friend's that I haven't seen in over two years and it was great and fantastic and I missed all of them. I need to get a damn job (funemployment) so I can support my lack of a writing career, so maybe I can get it down there in the DC area. I'm hoping for Philly, New York or Boston too, so if you know anyone who wants to hire someone like me, let me know!

Please let me know what you think! Rate and review and let me know. I'm a review whore.

Drew