I Don't Want You to Want Me - Chapter 1
Apr. 26th, 2014 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ahopper84So yeah, I started a new story! It feels good to be writing again. I've been working on Truth, and a couple other things, with Shewasred, but writing my own stuff feels great too. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it!
I don’t know why I let Tay drag me out tonight, to a gay bar of all places. I was perfectly fine sitting back at the hotel, playing xBox, but no, he was all “don’t make me go by myself, I’m still not over” whatever his last boyfriend’s name was. I get it, really; after a break-up, the last thing you want to be is alone. But don’t bring the straight guy to the gay bar, that’s just asking for trouble. And besides, I knew he’d find someone to spend the night with anyway; he’s not exactly difficult on the eyes. Sure enough, we walked in, he headed for the bar, and I haven’t seen him since. Didn’t even bring me my beer…
I don’t think he even knows the meaning of the phrase “dry spell”. It’s been that way ever since our first song got huge; girls were throwing themselves at him, guys too, though at their age I doubt they would’ve known what to do if they ever got their hands on him. He didn’t really start indulging until our second album came out though; then he was all about having fun. Of course, that has its consequences, such as broken hearts and pregnant women. Once he married Natalie, things seemed to cool off, but after Ezra was born, Nat’s true colors came out - well, she was a groupie after all, so I don’t know what Taylor expected. It didn’t take long for that train-wreck of a relationship to come to a screeching halt; they signed the divorce papers the day we got back from touring for Underneath. The final straw was something none of us expected (except me but no one listens to the drummer)— the kid wasn’t even his.
After that, Tay really embraced his true nature - as an equal opportunity nympho, apparently. He’s had at least one solid relationship a year, sometimes more, and with plenty of “not looking for anything serious” in between. He leans more towards guys though, maybe as a “just in case” deal, but I think he’s honestly just more interested in men. Our parents hit the roof at first, but they got over it; I think they’re still convinced he’ll settle down with a “nice girl” eventually, but they’re not judging him either way. Same goes for Ike and me, but of course we knew long before they found out. Heck, I think I knew even before hedid. For a straight guy, I have a scary good gaydar; Tay’s been known to ask me if I think a guy’s worth his time, and as far as I know, I haven’t been wrong yet.
Anyway, back to the present. I’m sitting at a table off to one side, sipping my beer (which I had to get myself), looking around. I’m not homophobic; I know a few gay guys, even besides my brother. And I’m not above recognizing when a person is good-looking; it just doesn’t mean I want to bang them. But there are a few in the crowd who aren’t so bad. A couple catch my eye; I just smile politely and shake my head. It’s nice to know guys think I’m hot, makes me feel good about myself. Gays have standards, and I’m proud to say I usually meet if not exceed them. Or so I’ve been told.
I know a lot of straight guys would freak out if they got hit on by another dude, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s flattering, really. I always feel a little bad when I have to break the news; some of them have seemed like really nice guys. Heck, that’s how I’ve made half my gay friends. I don’t get why guys spaz; someone is calling you attractive, and last time I checked, that’s a good thing. Would you rather never get hit on, because you’re a ragged fugly mess? Not me, that’s for damn sure; I may not put in as much effort as my diva of a brother, but I do try to look good. And it’s cool to get appreciated for it.
Tonight, there’s plenty of eye candy for those with a taste for it. As usual, I get plenty of looks, so I’m feeling pretty confident. Judging by the way the night’s going, I’m not surprised when a guy comes over and sets an unopened beer in front of me. There’s something familiar about him, his big brown eyes and casually charming smile, but I can’t place it. Never one to turn down a free drink, I motion to the chair across from me. Talking to someone beats sitting alone any day.
“Hey, thanks,” I say, killing the drink I’m on and opening the new one.
“No problem.” The guy smiles again, then bites his lip, and I know what’s coming. “Not to be rude, but-”
“Zac Hanson,” I cut him off, holding out my hand.
“Dave Moffatt,” he answers; he shakes my hand, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. The name sounds familiar, and now his face looks even more so.
“Didn’t you used to be a singer?” I ask, hoping I’m not about to embarrass myself. But the way his face lights up, I know I’m right. Score one for Zac.
“Yeah, ages ago; me and my brothers, we sang as The Moffatts. Never really made it in the US, but we’re from here, so that wasn’t a big surprise.”
“That’s cool, though. What happened to you guys?”
Dave’s smile falls a bit, and I get the slight taste of foot. He looks down at his drink, and it takes him a second to answer.
“Things just… didn’t work out,” he says finally, looking up at me. “There were some… disagreements.” Dave looks around and chuckles, and I think I can guess what at least one of those disagreements was about.
“Sorry, dude. We almost bit the big one too, thanks to the dicks at IDJ Records. We had to go indie, and it’s been tough.”
“Still doing pretty well, though. I heard your single on the radio the other day; good stuff.”
“Thanks.” I’m actually surprised our single’s still getting airplay, especially up here, considering it came out last year. “So, what do you do now?”
“Oh, I keep busy. I had a DJ job for a while, did some modelling.”
I take a second and look him over; I’m not surprised at the modelling. He’s got just the right balance of sweetness and sexy. Like I said, I’ve got no problem recognizing hotness when I see it, and this guy’s got it in spades. The scruff on his jaw, the way his arms just barely bulge out of his shirt sleeves; he knows a thing or two about reeling them in, I’d put money on that.
“I gotta say, I’m a little surprised to see you in here.” Dave lowers his voice a little and leans closer, smirking. “I already saw your brother; him, I expected. But you…” His voice trails off, and his eyes glance up and down slow enough to be intentionally obvious. I let him see me seeing him, and give him an appreciative smile. This is where I should probably clue him in, but I figure it can’t hurt to put it off a little longer.
“Yeah, well… I don’t come to places like this too often. Not exactly my style; I’m more the ‘hang out at my place’ kind of guy.” I realize how that sounds when his eyes light up in amused surprise, but it’s still true, regardless. I don’t really date at all; too much work, and I’ve yet to find anyone who can put up with me for more than a couple days. Not to mention, I don’t really stay in one place long enough.
“So, what kind of music do you like, Zac?”
“A lot of stuff really; plenty of classic rock, but a lot of random stuff, too. Not a fan of rap, and there’s not a lot of country I can tolerate, but other than that it’s pretty much fair game.”
“My brothers do country music now,” Dave said, chuckling. “It’s fine though; it was never my thing either, even though that’s what we started out doing. I like my music a little… edgier.” The look in his eyes says he’s not just talking about music, and I can’t say I don’t like it. Something about this guy… He’s looking better by the second, and the beer is starting to make my judgement a little fuzzy.
“Yeah, can’t disagree with that,” I say, killing my beer. He waves over a waiter walking around with a tray of shots, and grabs a couple, setting one in front of me. I’m not much for liquor, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head I’d like to silence, so I throw it back without another thought. I watch Dave do the same, the muscles in his neck flexing.
“So, I take it ‘your place’ isn’t anywhere around here?” Dave asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes and no. Permanent home is back in Oklahoma, but honestly we spend months on the road at a time, so hotels and the bus feel more like home most days. And the hotel is just a block from here.” It feels like I’m agreeing to something, but that’s not my intention… I think. The whiskey I just gulped down is doing its magic, making me feel all tingly and warm.
“That’s pretty close… my place isn't too far either, though, and I get HBO. If you’re interested…”
And there it is. This is the point where I really should be telling him I’m straight… except that I’m not as sure about that right now as I usually am. Not saying I want him to bend me over the table, but… Anyway, hanging out doesn’t always lead to… other things. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. I nod and finish my beer, then stand on mostly steady legs and slip on my jacket. I follow him to the coat check where he grabs his own leather jacket. I glance around, looking for Taylor, but he probably left ages ago.
The night air hits me, crisp and refreshing, and I smile. Nothing feels better than walking out of a stuffy club into the fresh air; well, almost nothing. Dave nudges me and grins, and I follow him down the street. The stars are out tonight, and I look for familiar constellations as we walk. It’s always amazed me how you can be in different places, yet still be looking at the same sky, just from another angle. Time passes without me, and after what feels like just a couple minutes Dave is holding open the door to a tall apartment building. A short elevator ride later, and he’s unlocking his front door.
It’s a really nice apartment, with huge windows looking down on the city below. Dave sets down his coat and keys and heads over to the stereo; a couple seconds later, the opening notes of Dark Side are flowing from the speakers. I turn and grin at him; he’s got great taste, either that or he’s read me like a book. Either way, no complaints here.
“You want a drink?” he asks, heading into the kitchen. “I’ve got beer, wine, pop…”
“Pop’s fine. Think I’ve had a little too much already,” I say, chuckling, as I peel off my jacket and sit on the plush couch. He comes back a moment later, handing me a glass, and I sip it slowly. The carbonation feels good on my throat, the usually acidic liquid soothing after the burn of the liquor. He sits down next to me, his own glass in hand. We sit for a few, just listening to the music and smiling at each other.
We finish our drinks, and when Dave takes my glass, he none-too-subtly brushes his fingers over mine. The look in his eyes is downright smoldering, and I feel myself blush, something I do not do easily. My eyes are glued to his backside as he goes to place the glasses in the sink, and the view is doing things to me. Things that don’t usually happen in the presence of other dudes. When he comes back, he sits a little closer, just enough to notice. and our legs brush. He rests one arm on the back of the couch and looks me over again, his eyes lingering on my midsection for a few extra seconds.
“I gotta admit,” Dave says, looking almost shy. “I had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. And now… Well, growing up did you nothing but good.”
Again I try not to blush; I could blame the heat on the alcohol, but Dave’s words are sobering me up real quick.
“Aw, you liked me?” I say, trying to sound casual and funny, but it comes out a lot more sincere. Dave nods, nudging my knee with his own.
“Sort of…” he says, scooting closer. “But ‘liked’ implies past tense. Never stopped,” he goes on, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leans closer. My nerves are jumping as I stare, licking my own lips in anticipation for what’s coming. I should have stopped this, back at the club, but it’s too late now. And, a voice in my head points out, I would have… if I didn't want this too.
I don’t know why I let Tay drag me out tonight, to a gay bar of all places. I was perfectly fine sitting back at the hotel, playing xBox, but no, he was all “don’t make me go by myself, I’m still not over” whatever his last boyfriend’s name was. I get it, really; after a break-up, the last thing you want to be is alone. But don’t bring the straight guy to the gay bar, that’s just asking for trouble. And besides, I knew he’d find someone to spend the night with anyway; he’s not exactly difficult on the eyes. Sure enough, we walked in, he headed for the bar, and I haven’t seen him since. Didn’t even bring me my beer…
I don’t think he even knows the meaning of the phrase “dry spell”. It’s been that way ever since our first song got huge; girls were throwing themselves at him, guys too, though at their age I doubt they would’ve known what to do if they ever got their hands on him. He didn’t really start indulging until our second album came out though; then he was all about having fun. Of course, that has its consequences, such as broken hearts and pregnant women. Once he married Natalie, things seemed to cool off, but after Ezra was born, Nat’s true colors came out - well, she was a groupie after all, so I don’t know what Taylor expected. It didn’t take long for that train-wreck of a relationship to come to a screeching halt; they signed the divorce papers the day we got back from touring for Underneath. The final straw was something none of us expected (except me but no one listens to the drummer)— the kid wasn’t even his.
After that, Tay really embraced his true nature - as an equal opportunity nympho, apparently. He’s had at least one solid relationship a year, sometimes more, and with plenty of “not looking for anything serious” in between. He leans more towards guys though, maybe as a “just in case” deal, but I think he’s honestly just more interested in men. Our parents hit the roof at first, but they got over it; I think they’re still convinced he’ll settle down with a “nice girl” eventually, but they’re not judging him either way. Same goes for Ike and me, but of course we knew long before they found out. Heck, I think I knew even before hedid. For a straight guy, I have a scary good gaydar; Tay’s been known to ask me if I think a guy’s worth his time, and as far as I know, I haven’t been wrong yet.
Anyway, back to the present. I’m sitting at a table off to one side, sipping my beer (which I had to get myself), looking around. I’m not homophobic; I know a few gay guys, even besides my brother. And I’m not above recognizing when a person is good-looking; it just doesn’t mean I want to bang them. But there are a few in the crowd who aren’t so bad. A couple catch my eye; I just smile politely and shake my head. It’s nice to know guys think I’m hot, makes me feel good about myself. Gays have standards, and I’m proud to say I usually meet if not exceed them. Or so I’ve been told.
I know a lot of straight guys would freak out if they got hit on by another dude, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s flattering, really. I always feel a little bad when I have to break the news; some of them have seemed like really nice guys. Heck, that’s how I’ve made half my gay friends. I don’t get why guys spaz; someone is calling you attractive, and last time I checked, that’s a good thing. Would you rather never get hit on, because you’re a ragged fugly mess? Not me, that’s for damn sure; I may not put in as much effort as my diva of a brother, but I do try to look good. And it’s cool to get appreciated for it.
Tonight, there’s plenty of eye candy for those with a taste for it. As usual, I get plenty of looks, so I’m feeling pretty confident. Judging by the way the night’s going, I’m not surprised when a guy comes over and sets an unopened beer in front of me. There’s something familiar about him, his big brown eyes and casually charming smile, but I can’t place it. Never one to turn down a free drink, I motion to the chair across from me. Talking to someone beats sitting alone any day.
“Hey, thanks,” I say, killing the drink I’m on and opening the new one.
“No problem.” The guy smiles again, then bites his lip, and I know what’s coming. “Not to be rude, but-”
“Zac Hanson,” I cut him off, holding out my hand.
“Dave Moffatt,” he answers; he shakes my hand, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. The name sounds familiar, and now his face looks even more so.
“Didn’t you used to be a singer?” I ask, hoping I’m not about to embarrass myself. But the way his face lights up, I know I’m right. Score one for Zac.
“Yeah, ages ago; me and my brothers, we sang as The Moffatts. Never really made it in the US, but we’re from here, so that wasn’t a big surprise.”
“That’s cool, though. What happened to you guys?”
Dave’s smile falls a bit, and I get the slight taste of foot. He looks down at his drink, and it takes him a second to answer.
“Things just… didn’t work out,” he says finally, looking up at me. “There were some… disagreements.” Dave looks around and chuckles, and I think I can guess what at least one of those disagreements was about.
“Sorry, dude. We almost bit the big one too, thanks to the dicks at IDJ Records. We had to go indie, and it’s been tough.”
“Still doing pretty well, though. I heard your single on the radio the other day; good stuff.”
“Thanks.” I’m actually surprised our single’s still getting airplay, especially up here, considering it came out last year. “So, what do you do now?”
“Oh, I keep busy. I had a DJ job for a while, did some modelling.”
I take a second and look him over; I’m not surprised at the modelling. He’s got just the right balance of sweetness and sexy. Like I said, I’ve got no problem recognizing hotness when I see it, and this guy’s got it in spades. The scruff on his jaw, the way his arms just barely bulge out of his shirt sleeves; he knows a thing or two about reeling them in, I’d put money on that.
“I gotta say, I’m a little surprised to see you in here.” Dave lowers his voice a little and leans closer, smirking. “I already saw your brother; him, I expected. But you…” His voice trails off, and his eyes glance up and down slow enough to be intentionally obvious. I let him see me seeing him, and give him an appreciative smile. This is where I should probably clue him in, but I figure it can’t hurt to put it off a little longer.
“Yeah, well… I don’t come to places like this too often. Not exactly my style; I’m more the ‘hang out at my place’ kind of guy.” I realize how that sounds when his eyes light up in amused surprise, but it’s still true, regardless. I don’t really date at all; too much work, and I’ve yet to find anyone who can put up with me for more than a couple days. Not to mention, I don’t really stay in one place long enough.
“So, what kind of music do you like, Zac?”
“A lot of stuff really; plenty of classic rock, but a lot of random stuff, too. Not a fan of rap, and there’s not a lot of country I can tolerate, but other than that it’s pretty much fair game.”
“My brothers do country music now,” Dave said, chuckling. “It’s fine though; it was never my thing either, even though that’s what we started out doing. I like my music a little… edgier.” The look in his eyes says he’s not just talking about music, and I can’t say I don’t like it. Something about this guy… He’s looking better by the second, and the beer is starting to make my judgement a little fuzzy.
“Yeah, can’t disagree with that,” I say, killing my beer. He waves over a waiter walking around with a tray of shots, and grabs a couple, setting one in front of me. I’m not much for liquor, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head I’d like to silence, so I throw it back without another thought. I watch Dave do the same, the muscles in his neck flexing.
“So, I take it ‘your place’ isn’t anywhere around here?” Dave asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes and no. Permanent home is back in Oklahoma, but honestly we spend months on the road at a time, so hotels and the bus feel more like home most days. And the hotel is just a block from here.” It feels like I’m agreeing to something, but that’s not my intention… I think. The whiskey I just gulped down is doing its magic, making me feel all tingly and warm.
“That’s pretty close… my place isn't too far either, though, and I get HBO. If you’re interested…”
And there it is. This is the point where I really should be telling him I’m straight… except that I’m not as sure about that right now as I usually am. Not saying I want him to bend me over the table, but… Anyway, hanging out doesn’t always lead to… other things. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. I nod and finish my beer, then stand on mostly steady legs and slip on my jacket. I follow him to the coat check where he grabs his own leather jacket. I glance around, looking for Taylor, but he probably left ages ago.
The night air hits me, crisp and refreshing, and I smile. Nothing feels better than walking out of a stuffy club into the fresh air; well, almost nothing. Dave nudges me and grins, and I follow him down the street. The stars are out tonight, and I look for familiar constellations as we walk. It’s always amazed me how you can be in different places, yet still be looking at the same sky, just from another angle. Time passes without me, and after what feels like just a couple minutes Dave is holding open the door to a tall apartment building. A short elevator ride later, and he’s unlocking his front door.
It’s a really nice apartment, with huge windows looking down on the city below. Dave sets down his coat and keys and heads over to the stereo; a couple seconds later, the opening notes of Dark Side are flowing from the speakers. I turn and grin at him; he’s got great taste, either that or he’s read me like a book. Either way, no complaints here.
“You want a drink?” he asks, heading into the kitchen. “I’ve got beer, wine, pop…”
“Pop’s fine. Think I’ve had a little too much already,” I say, chuckling, as I peel off my jacket and sit on the plush couch. He comes back a moment later, handing me a glass, and I sip it slowly. The carbonation feels good on my throat, the usually acidic liquid soothing after the burn of the liquor. He sits down next to me, his own glass in hand. We sit for a few, just listening to the music and smiling at each other.
We finish our drinks, and when Dave takes my glass, he none-too-subtly brushes his fingers over mine. The look in his eyes is downright smoldering, and I feel myself blush, something I do not do easily. My eyes are glued to his backside as he goes to place the glasses in the sink, and the view is doing things to me. Things that don’t usually happen in the presence of other dudes. When he comes back, he sits a little closer, just enough to notice. and our legs brush. He rests one arm on the back of the couch and looks me over again, his eyes lingering on my midsection for a few extra seconds.
“I gotta admit,” Dave says, looking almost shy. “I had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. And now… Well, growing up did you nothing but good.”
Again I try not to blush; I could blame the heat on the alcohol, but Dave’s words are sobering me up real quick.
“Aw, you liked me?” I say, trying to sound casual and funny, but it comes out a lot more sincere. Dave nods, nudging my knee with his own.
“Sort of…” he says, scooting closer. “But ‘liked’ implies past tense. Never stopped,” he goes on, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leans closer. My nerves are jumping as I stare, licking my own lips in anticipation for what’s coming. I should have stopped this, back at the club, but it’s too late now. And, a voice in my head points out, I would have… if I didn't want this too.
