Monster [m/m]

Chapter Two

"You sick?"

Aiden looks over his shoulder at Angelique, stifling a yawn. "What?"

She looks him up and down, eyebrow raised. "You look like hell."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks." She, on the other hand, looks as good as ever. Then again, her night was probably not nearly as fucked up as his.

"In the best way possible, of course," she adds sweetly, coming over to rest her hip against the desk.

"Of course." Aiden leans back in the chair, looking up at her. "So. What do you want?"

Her eyebrows shoot up at that, one hand pressing against her chest. "Whatever do you mean?" But at his flat stare, she grins. "Okay, so, there's this thing tonight, and my friend's friend is coming, so I need you to be my wingman."

"Last I checked, you were good at getting laid on your own," Aiden drawls, resting his cheek on his hand.

Angelique sighs and makes a face. "Okay, fine. It's a poetry slam, and I need you to keep me from dying of boredom." Aiden opens his mouth, but she holds up a hand. "Believe me, this girl is totally worth it. And there's a party afterward, so, y'know, free beer."

Aiden studies her for a moment and crosses his arms. "This gonna be a ladies-only thing, or will I have a chance of at least getting a blowjob?"

With a bark of laughter, Angelique says, "Do you ever think with anything other than your dick? Jesus."

"Who's the one who planned her whole night around getting laid?"

Angelique grins, shrugging. "Caught me." She braces her hands on the desk and leans toward him. "So? You gonna come? I promise, it'll be fun. Booze and pretentious guys who would love to make poetry with you."

Aiden laughs abruptly at that, shaking his head. "That was bad, Angel, even for you."

She shrugs, still grinning brightly. "What, you don't want to make poetry, Aiden? Don't want to expand your horizons to the artistically eloquent?"

Another laugh escapes. "Fuck, okay, I'll come, just shut up." Standing up, he stifles another yawn. "Where is this thing, anyway?"

"Some place downtown," Angelique replies with a dismissive wave. "Artsy cafe. Probably have all those fancy drinks and shit."

Aiden looks at her, because really? "You sure this chick is worth it?"

"Definitely." She grins and slides off the desk. "You want, I can drive you home, so you can get changed, and we'll go over together."

Well, Aiden's never been one to turn down a free ride.

"Sure."

***

Fuck poetry slams. If Aiden didn't consider Angelique to be the closest thing he has to a best friend, then he would've abandoned her within the first five minutes. Apparently, the girl she's after wasn't even one of the performers, but the friend of one. Angelique's network is too fucking big for him to keep track of.

The party's better, at least.

Aiden weaves through the crowd of people, beer in hand. It's his third one, and he's starting to feel a buzz, which just makes everything around him fucking fantastic. The only thing missing is someone to get naked with him.

Taking another long drink, Aiden finds himself at the top of a flight stairs. He looks down them blankly, before shrugging and heading down. He can hear voices and laughter (male laughter, which is a good sign), and when he reaches the bottom and walks down a short hall, he finds himself in a den with three other guys. A few empty cans and bottles are scattered around, and they're playing some sort of video game.