Playboy » L.S

Chapter 4

As I push my way through the crowd of sweaty men, my mind is reeling nonstop.

Who was that guy? Why didn't he even tell me his name?

I'm a little pissed off that he kicked me out so soon, though. Knowing me, once he got me going, I wouldn't have told him to stop.

He's gorgeous and just by the way my body reacted to his touch, I know I'd do anything he'd tell me to. Maybe I was desperate from how long I've been deprived of sexual contact, but who could blame me? It's been almost a year since.. him. Damien has helped me a lot, even through my shitty attitude.

Damien has always been there for me, my best friend since middle school. He's my rock, my constant, and I've had a crush on him since my dark time after my last break up. It was never supposed to happen, he was just there as my shoulder to cry on. I'd say he was a rebound, but we haven't done anything yet, so it doesn't really qualify.

I'm officially questioning everything after what I just experienced. I don't feel that way when Damien touches me. Fire doesn't ignite in me when his skin rubs against mine, my blood doesn't boil, and goosebumps don't rise on my flesh. My reaction to that Playboy is something I've never experienced.

Although it thoroughly confuses me, it also intrigues me in the most horrifying way. My emotions are haywire, my mind a big jumbled mess. I need to know him, I need to at least know his name, anything.

"Dame!" I call when I see his brown hair styled up in a messy quiff.

He turns around quickly and a large smile takes over his face. He excuses himself from the group of men he was talking to before he walks over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Louis! How was it?" He gives me a cheeky wink and I flush. He glances at the black bunny ears on top of my head but doesn't say anything. Thank god.

"N-not that great," I answer, even though deep down I know I am lying. I am itching to know something about that Playboy and I can't help but hope I see him again.

"Not that great?!" Damien gasps dramatically, his hand placing over his heart. "That Playboy is the best one we have. He brings in a lot of money, Lou. He's royalty here."

"How do you know he's the one that asked for me?" I quirk an eyebrow up at him.

"Oh please, I saw him stare you down while he was performing. I've gotta say, I'm shocked. He doesn't ever ask for personals."

"Never?" I squeak, a bit shocked. He hasn't ever asked for a personal? What makes me so special?

"Never," He answers. "Well, that's what I've heard anyway."

"What's his name?" I can't help but ask. I need to know his name. I know I've already asked this but I need to fucking know.

"Sorry Lou, I can't tell you," He shrugs. "It keeps the Playboys safe, I've already told you that."

I groan but cover it up with a cough so Damien doesn't question me. He gives me a weird look but seems to shrug it off.

"Let's get a drink, yeah?" Damien doesn't give me a choice to answer as he pulls me towards the bar.

The boy working in a small bartenders uniform quickly finishes the drink he's making when he notices Damien. He gives a male in a blue shirt the drink, shuffling over to our side of the bar.

"Hello Mr. King," the boy greets Damien.

I scoff at the formal greeting. Mr. King? That's so incredibly weird to me. He's Damien and he's only twenty three. I know he's the kid's boss and everything, but still.. weird.

Damien laughs and shakes his head. "It's Damien, Cam! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"S-sorry, sir," The boy stutters but recovers. "Fuck, I mean Damien."

Cam's face is flushed and I can already tell he fancies Damien. The way he's stuttering nervously, the way his cheeks are red, and the way he's staring at Damien is a dead give away. It's adorable really, since I'm sure the boy is probably only nineteen or twenty.

"Me and my friend here will have two shots of cherry vodka," Damien turns to look at me with a smirk on his face. "Each."

"Dame, I have to drive home!" I scold but before I can stop Cam, he's already across the bar grabbing the vodka.

"Oh shush, you can stay at my house," Damien grins as four shot glasses filled to the brim are placed in front of us. Well, that was quick.

"Thank you Cam," Damien winks at the boy, causing Cam's eyes to widen a bit. He's so smitten it's almost unbearable to watch.

When Cam returns to taking other men's orders, I turn to Damien in my stool. "Somebody has a little crush on you."

"Who? Cam?" Damien laughs lightly. "Yeah, I've noticed. I mean, he's pretty cute."

Usually, I'd be turning into a green monster and tearing out the boy's hair, but for some reason I don't feel anything. Instead, my thoughts are drawn to the curly haired boy and his perfectly toned body.

"Yeah, he is," I say breathlessly, almost too quiet to hear, but of course Damien notices.

"You aren't talking about Cam, are you?" He grins, shaking his head. "Alright, spill. Whose got your attention?"

I don't know if I want to tell Damien about the curly haired boy or not. There's always the chance that if I say something that he'll possibly even try to hook us up or even tell me something about him, but there's also the chance that Damien will ruin it all.

Without thinking, I grab the shot glass and down the pinkish liquid. It burns as it travels down my throat but I knock back the second one right after.

"The Playboy," I answer once I place the glass back down onto the black counter top.

"The one that gave you a one on one?" Damien asks but I already know that he knows. He's toying with me.

"Obviously," I roll my eyes.

"I don't blame you, he's one hot piece of ass," Damien chuckles. "Maybe that's why he attracts such a big crowd every time he's up on stage."

"People literally come here asking for his schedule," He adds, rolling his eyes some. "He's our best performer."

"But," He adds and I internally groan. There's always a but. "He is also the biggest player I've ever encountered. He's worse than Dy-" He cuts his sentence short, thankfully catching himself from saying his name.

But he was too late. I already know what he was going to say and it ignites the worst feeling in me, starting at my broken heart that I'm trying to desperately mend by stitching the pieces back together day by day.

"Lou, I'm so sorry," He places his hand on my upper arm, giving it a squeeze. "I didn't mean to- it slipped."

I sigh and attempt my best fake smile I can muster up. "It's fine, Dame. Don't worry about it."

I reach over to where his full shot glasses sit on the counter and take one into my hand. He watches me as I place the other in his hand, clinking them together.

"Let's have fun," I say, grinning as I tip my head back to down the sweet drink, washing away all of my common sense and hopefully numbing the ache that is my shattered heart for the night.