Bent.

2. If I get too Tired to Make it, be my Breath so I can Walk

2. If I get too Tired to Make it, be my Breath so I can Walk

Mitch hated birthday parties.

He particularly hated birthday parties of people he didn't know terribly well. He hated trying to feign excitement. "Congratulations, you're twenty-one. That means nothing to me. Get wasted!"

Mitch rolled his eyes and Kirstin elbowed him in the ribs.

"This will be fun. Greg is a really good time! He hooked us up with a VIP area of this club. I've never heard of the place, but that's not saying much, considering that I don't really know of any clubs. But hey, this is going to be fun!"

Mitch tried not to point out the fact that she said that part twice.

They hopped off of the bus in front of the address that had been sent to them.

"Is your friend here yet?" Mitch asked, looking around. The place looked... fine. Groups of men were flocked together, and groups of women did the same, hardly interacting on the sidewalk in front of the place. A small line outside had formed. Mitch sighed and moved to stand in the back.

"I'm not sure, yet. I think you and Greg will really hit it off, too. I'm glad you put a little extra energy into your look tonight! You look fantastic. He's really cute, FYI."

Mitch self-consciously fixed his bangs, and suddenly felt as though his jeans might be too tight.

They showed their fake IDs to a bouncer who looked like he could squish Mitch like a bug between his thumb and index finger. Mitch tried to smile as confidently as possible. He wasn't in the mood to take the bus back home by himself.

He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding when the man stepped to the side, gesturing for the duo to enter.

And suddenly, Mitch wished he was back on the bus alone.

There were half-naked men everywhere.

Scratch that. Mitch was decent with his fractions. They were more like four-fifths naked.

Now it made sense why there were groups of men and women who weren't interacting outside. Bachelor and bachelorette parties, he was sure. Because this was a strip club. An all-male strip club.

"Kirstie..."

"Mitch, I had no idea," Kirstin laughed, pulling him across the floor. He could feel the heat of his own blush as he tried to look only at the floor.

"Let's get drinks before we go find everyone," Kirstin smiled. "Whiskey sours?"

Mitch rolled his eyes again. Even he knew that whiskey sours scream "I'm underage. Card me again."

She squeezed through a group of men taking shots. One glared at them as Mitch followed suit, and Mitch became instantly more desperate to leave.

As soon as he made it to the bar, they were boxed in, with Mitch's stomach pressing painfully against the sticky surface.

"What can I get you?"

Mitch almost threw up.

The blue eyes suddenly lit up as he shook up a drink. "Hey, bus boy."

Mitch's mouth hung open, comically so. Kirstin elbowed him painfully, and he watched as she looked like she might faint.

"You okay, bus boy?"

Mitch couldn't speak as he surveyed the man behind the bar. Blond hair perfectly quaffed and slicked to the side. Black button-down, just ever-so-slightly see-through with the top four buttons undone, exposing the soft skin of his chest beneath. He could just make out the outline of the tattoo sleeve beneath the translucent fabric of his shirt. He could make out some other things beneath the fabric as well, but he really, really needed to peel his eyes away...