Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

teeth. Swallowed his gasps. Held up his shuddering body while he came unglued and El devoured him like a man who hadn’t kissed anyone like this in years.
Which was exactly what El was.
It wasn’t until someone bumped into them that El realized they’d stopped dancing entirely, that he’d started undoing Paul’s pants and was ready to sink to the floor so he could take Paul in his mouth. Not that something like this was completely out of line at Lights Out.
But all of this absolutely was for Paul—especially drunk off his ass.
Paul blinked out of his haze, and guilt swamped El as he took in his swollen lips and bloodshot eyes. “Why—why did you stop?”
Not because he wanted to, that’s for damn sure. “I should get you home.”
The way Paul’s face closed up, all that easiness and happiness and something that sure looked like lust evaporating, made El’s heart clench. “I don’t want to go home.”
Then how about you come to my place? “Paul, you’ve had a lot to drink.”
“So what? Everyone here has.”
He had a point. El wanted to give into it, but he didn’t let himself. “I need to get you home.” I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.
I don’t want you to never want to see me again in the morning.
It was the right thing to do. El knew it was. But no amount of knowing that could have prepared him for the look of rejection, of disappointment, of humiliation on Paul’s face as he turned away from El and disappeared into the crowd.

chapter 19
    W
    alking away from El on the dance floor was a mistake, not because I wanted to stand there and be told I was a baby and had to go home, but because he was right; I was drunk, incredibly so, and within thirty seconds I was lost, disoriented, and a little scared.
    However, when he grabbed my arm and hauled me off the dance floor, I got mad again.
I didn’t know why I was mad, but I was. Furious, actually, and embarrassed, but mostly just mad. Confused too, I guess, but that mostly made me angry too. Something had happened. I wasn’t sure what, but something big had happened, and then I’d lost it, and now I felt like half a cantaloupe someone had hollowed out.
And El wanted to take me home and leave me there because I was drunk.
Maybe it was because of the kiss on the dance floor, I realized, as he poured me into his car and headed toward my house. I kept my eyes on the blurry streetlights so I wouldn’t have to see the truth of that in his face, if it was the case. Which it probably was. I’d kissed too hard. I’d asked for it and he was disgusted.
Except he hadn’t seemed disgusted. Except for at the end when he’d declared I had to go home.
Except I’m not gay! The thought flared up like a dud firecracker and died an ignoble death.
How could I ask a gay man to make out with me on the dance floor of a gay bar and not be gay?
I was so confused. And hollow. And empty.
And sad.
I was all ready for El to drop me off at my curb, but he put his car in park, killed the engine, and came around to my door before I could figure out how to open it. He put an arm around me, too, helping me up the walk.
It made me sadder still.
“What the hell is that?” he asked, nodding at Detroit Daisy.
“Art.” I scowled at it. “It’s too heavy, or I’d have brought it to your shop.”
“Thank God.” He squeezed my elbow. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you inside.”
He came into the house with me, still hovering like he was my mother, which made me angry again. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, pulling free and heading for it without waiting to hear what he said. I assumed he would be gone when I came out. I did have to go to the bathroom, but when I was done I splashed water on my face, and then, figuring I was going to bed now, I brushed my teeth too. I sat down on the lid of the toilet for several minutes when I was done, wallowing in my confusion and misery and giving El adequate time to get out.
When I came out of the bathroom, El’s car was still at the curb, but El wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. I found him in my bedroom, standing beside my bed, holding up Stacey’s ring with an odd expression on his face.
“Why haven’t you ever brought this in? I could give you a lot more for it than for all those kitchen gadgets.”
I shrugged, staring at the ring in his long dark fingers. It had never occurred to me to try to sell it. Somehow, I’d assumed it would always be here waiting for her.
He let the ring fall into