Immoral by Nicole Dykes
Grady wasworried I’d be bored with the sound check and all the setup before the concert, but he’s insane. Watching him sing and play the guitar is one of my favorite things. Always has been. I still remember when we were twelve and he’d pick up his guitar, making up songs and playing classics.
It always made me smile. He’s self-taught, something anyone could know from watching his interviews, but no one else actually got to watch the process of him learning.
Except me.
Now, I’m standing backstage next to Waylon watching Grady warm up the crowd. Telling them thank you for being here and how grateful he is to have them all. And I know, without a doubt, it’s all genuine.
As long as I can remember, we both wanted out of our small hometown. We both had big dreams of becoming rich and famous, but mostly it was the escape we wanted. Away from small-minded people.
He wanted away from his dad in general, but I wanted a way out of watching my dad struggle. He’s a damn good welder and never once complained about providing for his family. Still, over the years, I saw him die slowly inside, watching his beloved game of baseball while his own dreams faded. But then, his faded dreams blossomed into dreams for me.
I love baseball but not like my dad does.
I try not to think about the phone call with my mother and how afraid she sounded at the possibility of me not being re-signed. I try not to let it turn in my gut. The decision between making my dad proud—living his dream of playing for KC—and my own dreams.
Dreams with Grady.
My best friend. The guy I spent all my time with until I was barely eighteen. Who I laughed with and even occasionally shed tears around. The one who knew all my fears and dreams even before I did.
I know deep down what I want, but I don’t know if I can face it just yet. I don’t know if I can handle disappointing my father, a man who gave everything up for me.
I watch as Grady crosses the stage, not to grab his guitar like I expected, but to sit at a piano in the corner. “What is he doing?” I lean into Waylon.
Waylon just smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes he starts the show with a cover.”
I watch the band behind him look to Grady for his cue, seemingly not knowing what he’s about to play, but it doesn’t matter.
From the first note, the recognition hits them, and I feel a tingle run through my body, knowing the song instantly.
“He’s not.”
“He totally is.” Waylon smiles as Grady breaks into a flawless cover of the Queen song, “Love of my Life.” And the motherfucker is aiming his thoughtful and heated gaze backstage.
To right where I’m standing.
His fingers glide along the keys as his beautiful voice sings every word, full of emotion and meaning. Directing the lyrics at me. Although the entire crowd probably feels it’s being sung to them because he has that ability.
If anyone could see me, we’d be busted in a moment. Because I can’t look away. My eyes are locked on him, listening to every single word and note being played. I feel it throughout my entire being.
When the song ends, Grady goes back to the middle of the stage as the crowd erupts, and he grabs his guitar, getting ready for the actual set. I try like hell to regain my wits as I listen to the songs he’s written.
About halfway through, I see Waylon texting with someone, then laughing slyly as he puts his phone back in his pocket, and I have to ask, “Someone special?”
“You could say that.” He shrugs, but his grin is all sorts of fuckery. “Jenny is pretty damn special.”
“Jenny? As in my agent, Jenny?”
He chuckles, watching Grady out on the stage. “That one. She’s fierce, but she’s pretty damn funny too.” He shrugs. “Or maybe she’s funny because of how damn fierce she can be.”
“It’s really weird that you two are friends.”
He waves me off, clearly not giving a fuck what I think. “Eh, get over it because she’s too good to let go. Can’t have enough friends.”
I laugh because it’s not said with malice, just matter-of-factly. “I suppose so. Although I’m not sure Grady and she will ever get along.”
“You’d be surprised. Besides she really does have your best interest in mind, and Grady will respect that.”
I snort because Jenny is a fantastic agent, but she’s looking out for herself, first and foremost. “Yeah, okay.”
He turns to me now, his face dripping with honest concern. “We think we can get you exactly what you want, whatever that is.”
A cold shiver runs through me as I glance at the stage briefly and then look back to Waylon, unable to voice anything.
But he knows. “Yeah. That.”
I don’t ask how. I know I have Grady. We’re in love and both stubborn motherfuckers. We’re going to make this work, no matter what. But how? That’s the question. Our careers. Our fathers. Society in general.
Who the fuck knows?
Although Waylon seems to have a pretty good idea.
Instead of asking what Jenny and he have planned or have even been discussing, I ask a different question. “What’s it like to be out?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Glorious. Freeing.” He’s still smiling big. “Scary as hell. But oh, so worth it.”
I swallow hard, thinking about what it would be like, his answer giving me hope and lighting fire to the dream I’ve had for a long time.
The concert ends, and before I know it, it’s just Waylon, Grady, and me in the dressing room. I’m on a high after watching Grady out there and my talk with Waylon. I want to do something with him. Something fun. Something public.
“Let’s go to a bar,” I blurt out, gaining instant attention from Waylon and Grady.
Grady steps closer to me, still being careful and not touching me even though we’re behind closed doors. “A what?”
“I didn’t say a gay bar.” I haven’t completely lost my damn mind.
Grady shrugs easily. “Hey, I’d do it.”
I laugh. “I know you would. But I just meant let’s go get a drink. Celebrate a kickass concert.”
“Okay.” He turns to Waylon. “You coming?”
Waylon tosses his hands up. “Hell, no. I need my beauty rest. But please do me a favor and don’t give me any extra PR work, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Got it. No public blowjobs.” Grady winks at him, and Waylon groans, shaking his head as he leaves.
We use the car service to take us to a nice bar downtown, both of us sitting at the bar and drinking beer. We don’t get sloppy drunk or even buzzed, but just hanging out in public is nice. I wish I could grab his hand or lean in and kiss him, but like I said, this is nice.
It’s good to catch up and reminisce about growing up together. If anyone heard us talking, it would just seem like two old friends. Not lovers.
Which, of course, makes me slightly bitter.
I try to push it away, excusing myself to go to the bathroom and fighting with myself in the mirror as I wash up after taking care of business. It’s good. This is a step. We’re out in public together.
So what if I can’t touch him the way I want to?
I think about Waylon telling me that eventually, I’ll get what I want, being in a bar like this and being able to dance with him and hold his body close to mine. The thought of leaning in for a kiss and not worrying about damaging either of our careers has me taking a deep, relaxing breath and smiling at my reflection in the mirror.
“Someday.”
I walk out of the bathroom, which is in the back of the bar and instantly run into Grady. “There you are.”
“I wasn’t gone that long.”
One of his palms flattens against the wall behind me, half-caging me in, and I can feel the heat of his body rolling off him. God, I love him. “I was worried.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “No, you weren’t.”
He grins, dragging one hand down my jaw, and when I swallow tightly, his finger trails over the column of my throat, his eyes hungry for me. “We should get out of here.”
I nod in agreement, wanting him so goddamn bad. “Yes.”
Before I can overthink it, I lean in closer to him, my lips brushing over his in the briefest of kisses. It’s only a moment, but I feel it every-fucking-where. “Let’s go,” he growls as we separate and go back to settle our tab.
We climb into the car and make it back to his hotel, somehow managing not to touch each other. But as soon as we’re behind the locked door, our clothes are gone and our mouths are everywhere.
We find ourselves in the bed with a bottle of lube as he gets me ready for him. His fingers probe my hole, scissoring and preparing me for a hungry, desperate fuck we’re both dying for.
When I’m flipped over on my stomach, my arms holding me slightly up as he thrusts inside me, hitting deep and connecting our bodies, I feel whole. Every single part of me is filled, and my body thrums with pleasure. My hand reaches between my body and the bed and strokes my cock, chasing my release. I meet each thrust to bring him closer to his own euphoria. I feel only happiness, more content than I’ve ever been in my life.
This is what I want.
I want him.
