Page 9 of Sin Deep
“Hell yeah! You and your sparkly tube top are going to shine under the lights.”
“It’s not a tube top! It’s a corset, sweetheart.” Oliver led him toward the dance floor. “And I want to see your pretty eyes. Please?”
“They make them for boys? I thought they were for Ren Faires and Halloween. Cool.” He did as Ollie asked, shoving his mask and hat in his pocket, because what would it hurt?
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Hello. I’m wearing one. They make them for everyone! You’ll see them all over the club on a normal night. They’re kind of a thing here.”
He was right; Ollie lit up under the dance floor lights, sparkling like a Mardi Gras disco ball, and blinding him every so often.
Harley just let himself dance and laugh, the tiny buzz he was riding allowing him to let loose.
Oliver bent to his ear to be heard over the music. “Whatever with Master Winter, forget him. But you need to think about this look. It’s good on you.”
“Thanks, man. I feel…sexy as fuck.” And he didn’t even want to get laid. He liked just feeling like he was having fun in a safe space.
Oliver laughed and spun him around. “You’re a new man, Harley! I love it!”
“Am I?” He was just Harley, having a little out-of-body fun. It was good for him, he thought.
“Well, I have never heard Hardworking Harley say ‘sexy as fuck’.” Ollie laughed and shimmied to the music making his corset sparkle.
He hadn’t thought it a ton. He’d more thought he was just…a dude.
“Aw. Look at you. Don’t think so hard, sweetheart. Just dance!” A wave of people joined them as the next song started, and pretty soon they were surrounded by bodies moving like waves on a beach.
He let himself have that, let himself breathe and dance, and just be.
5
Harley slept most of Saturday, between the booze, the dancing, and the work week, but finally the bass of Ollie’s music dragged his happy ass out of bed.
He threw on a pair of cotton trousers and a ratty t-shirt before heading out to the front room. “Hey, you! Morn-evening!”
“Well look who’s up! Oh…poor baby needs some coffee.” Ollie went right to the kitchen and started putting on a pot. “You want some eggs? I could fry a couple of sausages for the hangover.”
“I’m less hungover from the booze than the dancing, but hell yeah.” He’d offer to help, but Ollie was strict about his kitchen. “How’s you?”
“Bored. I don’t have to work tonight, and I don’t have anywhere to be… I might go back to the club later. Right now though, food sounds good.” Eggs appeared and sausages and a big frying pan. “How did the makeup remover I gave you work? It looks like you got it all.”
“Yeah, thank you.” He’d never done face stuff—he washed it, he guessed. The shampoo ran down over it in the shower, and he totally washed behind his ears, but that was it.
“You’ll get used to it. That was fun. You looked great.” Ollie pulled two mugs out and set them by the coffee maker. “I’m serious, Harley. It worked on you.”
“Thanks.” Too bad he didn’t know the first thing about how to put it on, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch a bunch of YouTube videos on makeup. That might be a little too much.
Ollie looked at him sidelong. “Are you going to wear it again?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really know how, you know?”
“You can learn how. Or I can do it for you. But you should practice.”
“Practice.” He didn’t know. Part of the hot part of it was having Winter touch him, see him, and what if that was the deal? What the fuck would that mean, exactly? He didn’t know that he wanted to understand that.
“Breakfast for dinner.” Oliver split up the eggs and sausage and set the plates on the tiny kitchen table. “Fix your coffee and sit. Do you want toast?”
“Are you making some for you?” He wasn’t making work. “And that smells amazing. Thank you so much.”
Damn he was lucky that Jackson needed to be in Italy.
