Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 1
So my NaNo project? Completely rewriting the Tomorrow Trilogy so that it's no longer a trilogy and mostly focuses on Jazz and Savin's story, in a tighter, more abridged sense. I'm sticking with the title Seize the Day for now, because it still fits a lot of the "theme" that seems to be present in the book. This chapter is obviously in its rough stages, as are the rest of the chapters I'll be posting from here on out. Yay NaNoWriMo!
Savin stood over the sink, his hands gripping the edges of it tightly. He grit his teeth, refusing to meet the gaze of his own reflection. The scent of blood tinged the air. Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. Tears stung his eyes, but he ignored those as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
"You alright, Savin?"
Savin turned away from the mirror and frowned. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he answered, clearing his throat. His father stood before him, a severe looking man with a surgical mask still covering the bottom half of his face. Savin moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, only to remember he wore his contacts that evening. “Just -- a little queasy, that’s all.”
Hajime raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. “There was absolutely nothing routine about that procedure.”
“I’m aware,” Savin muttered, looking away from his father. He tugged the surgical apron off his shoulders and balled it up in his hands. He tossed it in the nearby biohazard bin and made his way to the door. “It’s just been a long night, Father. I’ll be fine.”
Hajime didn’t say anything in response, but tugged his surgical mask down. His own lips were twisted into a frown, and his eyes fixed themselves on Savin. Studying him. Analyzing his every move. “We can’t save everyone,” he murmured as Savin passed him.
Savin paused, his fingers wrapping loosely around the door handle. “I know,” he said, keeping his eyes forward. They still stung with tears, and his voice contained a slight tremor. “Is Mari still here?” he asked as he pushed the door open.
“She’s with the patient’s family,” Hajime said.
Savin nodded, murmuring his thanks under his breath as he walked out the room. He could still smell blood, but the scent felt almost comforting now as he made his way down the hospital hallways. The walk to the waiting room took forever, each step ricocheting loudly off the walls. Savin shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes.
A short, thin woman stepped out into the hallway, her long brown hair covering half her face. Her lab coat hung off her slumped shoulders. The slightest of smiles tugged at Savin’s lips as she turned towards him, her eyes widening somewhat. “You look like hell,” she said, holding the chart to her chest. “Was the surgery really that rough?”
Savin winced and looked away from her. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mari,” he said, glancing inside the waiting room. “How’s the family handling it?”
Mari shrugged her shoulder, her dark brown eyes focusing on anywhere but him. “About as well as they can be, considering there shouldn’t have been any complications,” she said, looking up at him. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Wanna go out tonight?” she asked, glancing down the hallways. “You look like you could use a drink or five.”
Savin snorted, shaking his head. “I totally don’t feel like going out tonight,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the hallway, frowning to himself. “Not like drinking’s gonna help, anyway.”
“Yeah, but how long has it been since you’ve last gone out and had a little fun?” Mari asked, moving away from the waiting room, leaving Savin with no choice but to follow her down the hallway. “I don’t think you’ve even gone on a date ever since you finished your internship.”
Savin shrugged his shoulder. “Last date I went on was with you -- and that was before we were interns,” he said wryly, smirking at her.
“That was your last date?” Mari asked, giving Savin an incredulous look. She put down her chart and picked up another, eyes focusing on the handwritten details for a moment before she turned to Savin again. “My shift ends in a couple of hours -- and if I recall correctly, so does yours. We’re going out.”
“And doing what? Picking up chicks together? I don’t think so, Mari,” Savin said, keeping his arms loosely crossed over his chest. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me --”
“Savin,” Mari began, effectively cutting him off. “You need a night to relax -- and you need to stop thinking about this place. Only way you’re ever gonna do that is actually going out and having fun.”
Savin pursed his lips together. Mari stood directly in front of him now, one hand on her hip the other propped up against the nurse’s station. A couple of nurses eyed them both, watching their every interaction intently. “Fine,” Savin said with huff. “But you pick where we’re going, and I get to go home and get out of these scrubs, first.”
“Deal,” Mari said. She grinned at him. “I’ll meet you at your apartment at eight.”
Savin nodded, sighing as he watched Mari turn on her heel and walk away. Going out? Having a few beers? His stomach churned at the thought, and he ran his fingers through his hair again, raking it up and out of his eyes.
Maybe he’d throw up after all, and therefore have an excuse not to go out with Mari, that night.
***
He didn’t throw up.
Savin found himself at a local bar with Mari, one that was a little too close to the hospital for his liking. He tried not to think about that, though, as Mari shoved a glass of scotch into his hand and dragged him to the closest empty booth.
“Why’d you take out your contacts?” Mari asked, reaching up to snatch Savin’s glasses off his face. She held them up in front of her eyes. “How’re you gonna pick up any chicks if they can’t see your pretty green eyes?”
Savin snorted into his glass before knocking it back, downing almost all of the amber liquid in one gulp before plucking his glasses from Mari’s fingers. “I’m not here to have that kind of fun,” he said, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat. “I’m here to get drunk, ‘relax,’ and try to forget about what happened tonight. That’s it.” He threw one arm over the back of the booth and looked out over the bar, a slight frown on his face.
“You’re no fun,” Mari said with a sigh, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of Savin. “Doesn’t look like they’re many girls that fit your type, either,” she muttered after a while, her eyes doing their own sweep of the bar. “Though, there is that guy over there -- the blond in the blue shirt.” She pointed to the man in question.
Holding back a sigh, Savin turned to follow the direction given him by Mari’s finger. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw going slack. “Isn’t he a little young for you?” he asked with a wry smile, tipping his glass back again. He finished his scotch in another gulp. “He looks younger than me.”
“I wasn’t pointing him out for me,” Mari said, a hint of laughter to her voice. “The guy’s obviously gay.”
“You can’t possibly know that just by looking at him,” Savin muttered, a slight smile breaking out on his face. His gaze drifted back over to the blond in question, though, as he and Mari fell into a comfortable, momentary silence. The man had his back to them. Judging from his height in comparison to the bar’s counter, the blond was only a few inches taller than Mari. He had a thin build -- but something about the other man felt familiar.
“Savin,” Mari said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re staring at him.”
“He’s got a nice ass, that’s all,” Savin responded, his slight smile growing as he turned his gaze back to Mari. She snickered into her drink, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “What?” Savin asked.
“I knew he was your type,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. She sipped her martini, tipping it back some. “Why don’t you go get yourself another scotch and buy him a drink, too, while you’re at it?”
Savin pursed his lips together, tracing his finger over the edge of his glass. He glanced over at the man again. “I dunno, Mari....” His stomach twisted, and he frowned to himself, crossing his arms on top of the table-top. “I’m just not feeling it, tonight.”
Mari sighed and shook her head. “You just need another drink in you, that’s all,” she said, leaning in closer to Savin. She put a hand on top of his, patting his fingers lightly. “That surgery really screwed you up today, didn’t it?”
Savin frowned, pulling his hand away from hers. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his fingers shaking as they circled around his empty glass. He pushed himself out of his seat. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Savin, you need to talk about it,” Mari said as he began to walk away from their booth. He ignored her, his frown deepening as he headed towards the bar. He slid his empty glass onto the countertop, settling into a seat at the bar as he ordered another scotch. The blond-haired man had seemed to disappear amongst the small crowd, no longer providing Savin with a momentary visual distraction.
Instead, his mind returned to the scene of the operation room earlier that day. The blood as the man’s aorta ruptured without any warning whatsoever, the frantic actions of both himself and his father, a far more experienced surgeon than himself. Savin put a hand to his forehead, covering his face as his shoulders shook.
He didn’t come here to think about this. Didn’t want to think about the loss his patient’s family had experienced, that day. Didn’t want to think about anything except the smooth burning sensation of the scotch as it slid down his throat. The way it made his head swim and feel slightly fuzzy.
The bartender came back, fresh scotch in hand, and Savin took it from him gratefully. As he turned to slip off the barstool, he bumped into something solid and shorter than he was. “Shit, I’m sorry!”
Savin blinked, his brow furrowing as he regained his sense of balance. The blond man Mari had pointed out to him now stood before him, his eyes wide and apologetic, his hands on Savin’s arms. “It’s -- it’s okay,” Savin said, clearing his throat. He glanced at his glass, which his fingers were thankfully still tightly wrapped around. “I should have been paying attention to where I was going.”
The other man smiled at him, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was the one who wasn’t paying attention,” he said, shaking his head slightly. He looked Savin over, backing away a bit to give Savin a little bit of space. Something about the blond’s smile changed, his eyes lighting up. “What’s your name?”
Savin held back a snort and shook his head, bringing his glass to his lips. He took a moment to appreciate Mari’s sharp eye and gave the blond man what he hoped was a warm smile, in return. “Savin Bates,” he said, offering the blond man his hand. “Yours?”
“Jazz,” the blond said, his grin growing wider as he took Savin’s hand in his own. His fingers were soft, unlike Savin’s cracked and dry ones. Savin internally cursed his job, but shook Jazz’s hand firmly, anyway.
“Jazz, huh?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow as he tipped his glass back. “No last name to go with it?”
Jazz winced, the action barely hidden by a quick smile. “I don’t like giving my last name out,” he said with a shrug. He let go of Savin’s hand and leaned in close. “Who’s to say Jazz is even my real name? It’s a little weird for a name, isn’t it?”
“A little,” Savin said with a shrug. He shifted slightly on his feet, trying to focus his attention elsewhere other than on Jazz’s clear, light blue eyes. Definitely his type, after all. He glanced over at his booth, where Mari sat watching him, a knowing smile on her face. Savin held back a laugh and shook his head. “It fits you though, I think,” he said to Jazz, tapping his free fingers against his glass. He tried to think of what to say next, but Jazz leaned in close again.
“Are you here with anyone?” Jazz asked, lifting a beer to his lips. He placed his free hand in his pocket, as if he were trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Except Savin couldn’t quite contain his grin. Jazz couldn’t make his intentions anymore obvious than they already were.
Savin glanced back at his table. “I’m here with my friend,” he answered, gesturing over to Mari. “We had a rough day at work. Figured we’d go out and have a couple of drinks.”
Jazz’s eyes followed Savin’s gesture, his expression falling just a little as he noticed Mari sitting on the table. “Just a ‘friend,’ huh?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you do?” he continued, turning his attention back to Savin.
“I’m a surgeon,” Savin said. Emboldened by Jazz’s obvious interest, he took the opportunity to lean in close, his lips brushing against Jazz’s ear as he spoke. “And she’s really just a friend.”
When Savin pulled away, he could see the faint blush on Jazz’s cheeks. “A surgeon?” he asked, clearing his throat and looking away from Savin for a moment. “Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?”
Savin laughed, feeling his whole body relax for the first time that evening. He smiled, his lips tugging upwards with ease as his fingers itched to reach out and touch Jazz. “Not really -- I’m thirty, so just old enough,” he said with a wink. He sipped at his scotch again, his eyes following the length of Jazz’s body, the curve of his lips. How long had it been since he took anyone home, male or female? On impulse, he moved in close again and put his free hand on Jazz’s hip, his fingers slipping under the untucked edge of Jazz’s shirt and brushing against skin. “Hopefully I’m not too old for you.”
“As long as twenty-five isn’t too young for you, I don’t see a problem, here,” Jazz said in response, smirking. He put his bottle down on the bar, putting distance between himself and Savin yet again.
Savin pretended to think about it, pressing his scotch against his lips before downing the rest of it. As he placed the now empty glass on the counter beside Jazz’s beer. “No,” he said after a while, smiling at Jazz. He motioned towards the door. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked, meeting Jazz’s eyes as best he could.
Jazz gave him a wry smile. “Won’t your friend be pissed you left her here?” he asked, his face still pink. Those blue eyes of his shined with mirth, as well as unmistakable lust.
Savin shrugged his shoulders. “I think she’ll be okay,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He retrieved his phone and glanced at it, smirking when it vibrated, a text from Mari popping up on his screen. Told you he was gay. Take him home already, jeez! it read. Savin shook his head and showed Jazz the text. “See?”
Jazz’s face turned an unmistakable shade of scarlet as Savin slipped his phone back in his pocket. “I see,” he stammered, putting a hand to his face. As he pulled his hand away, he moved in close to Savin. “How close is your place?” he asked, his blush dying away.
“Not that far,” Savin answered. “So... What do you say?” he prompted. There was hardly an inch separating them, now, even if they weren’t touching one another. “Wanna go back to my place?”
Jazz’s lips peeled apart in a slow smile. “Sure,” he whispered, meeting Savin’s eyes. “I think we both could use some fun.”
Savin nodded, his heart skipping a beat. He acknowledged Mari on his way out, his hand placed on the small of Jazz’s back as he guided the younger man out the doors of the bar and took him home.
He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this, in the morning.
Next Chapter
Savin stood over the sink, his hands gripping the edges of it tightly. He grit his teeth, refusing to meet the gaze of his own reflection. The scent of blood tinged the air. Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. Tears stung his eyes, but he ignored those as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
"You alright, Savin?"
Savin turned away from the mirror and frowned. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he answered, clearing his throat. His father stood before him, a severe looking man with a surgical mask still covering the bottom half of his face. Savin moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, only to remember he wore his contacts that evening. “Just -- a little queasy, that’s all.”
Hajime raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. “There was absolutely nothing routine about that procedure.”
“I’m aware,” Savin muttered, looking away from his father. He tugged the surgical apron off his shoulders and balled it up in his hands. He tossed it in the nearby biohazard bin and made his way to the door. “It’s just been a long night, Father. I’ll be fine.”
Hajime didn’t say anything in response, but tugged his surgical mask down. His own lips were twisted into a frown, and his eyes fixed themselves on Savin. Studying him. Analyzing his every move. “We can’t save everyone,” he murmured as Savin passed him.
Savin paused, his fingers wrapping loosely around the door handle. “I know,” he said, keeping his eyes forward. They still stung with tears, and his voice contained a slight tremor. “Is Mari still here?” he asked as he pushed the door open.
“She’s with the patient’s family,” Hajime said.
Savin nodded, murmuring his thanks under his breath as he walked out the room. He could still smell blood, but the scent felt almost comforting now as he made his way down the hospital hallways. The walk to the waiting room took forever, each step ricocheting loudly off the walls. Savin shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes.
A short, thin woman stepped out into the hallway, her long brown hair covering half her face. Her lab coat hung off her slumped shoulders. The slightest of smiles tugged at Savin’s lips as she turned towards him, her eyes widening somewhat. “You look like hell,” she said, holding the chart to her chest. “Was the surgery really that rough?”
Savin winced and looked away from her. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mari,” he said, glancing inside the waiting room. “How’s the family handling it?”
Mari shrugged her shoulder, her dark brown eyes focusing on anywhere but him. “About as well as they can be, considering there shouldn’t have been any complications,” she said, looking up at him. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Wanna go out tonight?” she asked, glancing down the hallways. “You look like you could use a drink or five.”
Savin snorted, shaking his head. “I totally don’t feel like going out tonight,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the hallway, frowning to himself. “Not like drinking’s gonna help, anyway.”
“Yeah, but how long has it been since you’ve last gone out and had a little fun?” Mari asked, moving away from the waiting room, leaving Savin with no choice but to follow her down the hallway. “I don’t think you’ve even gone on a date ever since you finished your internship.”
Savin shrugged his shoulder. “Last date I went on was with you -- and that was before we were interns,” he said wryly, smirking at her.
“That was your last date?” Mari asked, giving Savin an incredulous look. She put down her chart and picked up another, eyes focusing on the handwritten details for a moment before she turned to Savin again. “My shift ends in a couple of hours -- and if I recall correctly, so does yours. We’re going out.”
“And doing what? Picking up chicks together? I don’t think so, Mari,” Savin said, keeping his arms loosely crossed over his chest. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me --”
“Savin,” Mari began, effectively cutting him off. “You need a night to relax -- and you need to stop thinking about this place. Only way you’re ever gonna do that is actually going out and having fun.”
Savin pursed his lips together. Mari stood directly in front of him now, one hand on her hip the other propped up against the nurse’s station. A couple of nurses eyed them both, watching their every interaction intently. “Fine,” Savin said with huff. “But you pick where we’re going, and I get to go home and get out of these scrubs, first.”
“Deal,” Mari said. She grinned at him. “I’ll meet you at your apartment at eight.”
Savin nodded, sighing as he watched Mari turn on her heel and walk away. Going out? Having a few beers? His stomach churned at the thought, and he ran his fingers through his hair again, raking it up and out of his eyes.
Maybe he’d throw up after all, and therefore have an excuse not to go out with Mari, that night.
***
He didn’t throw up.
Savin found himself at a local bar with Mari, one that was a little too close to the hospital for his liking. He tried not to think about that, though, as Mari shoved a glass of scotch into his hand and dragged him to the closest empty booth.
“Why’d you take out your contacts?” Mari asked, reaching up to snatch Savin’s glasses off his face. She held them up in front of her eyes. “How’re you gonna pick up any chicks if they can’t see your pretty green eyes?”
Savin snorted into his glass before knocking it back, downing almost all of the amber liquid in one gulp before plucking his glasses from Mari’s fingers. “I’m not here to have that kind of fun,” he said, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat. “I’m here to get drunk, ‘relax,’ and try to forget about what happened tonight. That’s it.” He threw one arm over the back of the booth and looked out over the bar, a slight frown on his face.
“You’re no fun,” Mari said with a sigh, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of Savin. “Doesn’t look like they’re many girls that fit your type, either,” she muttered after a while, her eyes doing their own sweep of the bar. “Though, there is that guy over there -- the blond in the blue shirt.” She pointed to the man in question.
Holding back a sigh, Savin turned to follow the direction given him by Mari’s finger. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw going slack. “Isn’t he a little young for you?” he asked with a wry smile, tipping his glass back again. He finished his scotch in another gulp. “He looks younger than me.”
“I wasn’t pointing him out for me,” Mari said, a hint of laughter to her voice. “The guy’s obviously gay.”
“You can’t possibly know that just by looking at him,” Savin muttered, a slight smile breaking out on his face. His gaze drifted back over to the blond in question, though, as he and Mari fell into a comfortable, momentary silence. The man had his back to them. Judging from his height in comparison to the bar’s counter, the blond was only a few inches taller than Mari. He had a thin build -- but something about the other man felt familiar.
“Savin,” Mari said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re staring at him.”
“He’s got a nice ass, that’s all,” Savin responded, his slight smile growing as he turned his gaze back to Mari. She snickered into her drink, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “What?” Savin asked.
“I knew he was your type,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. She sipped her martini, tipping it back some. “Why don’t you go get yourself another scotch and buy him a drink, too, while you’re at it?”
Savin pursed his lips together, tracing his finger over the edge of his glass. He glanced over at the man again. “I dunno, Mari....” His stomach twisted, and he frowned to himself, crossing his arms on top of the table-top. “I’m just not feeling it, tonight.”
Mari sighed and shook her head. “You just need another drink in you, that’s all,” she said, leaning in closer to Savin. She put a hand on top of his, patting his fingers lightly. “That surgery really screwed you up today, didn’t it?”
Savin frowned, pulling his hand away from hers. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his fingers shaking as they circled around his empty glass. He pushed himself out of his seat. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Savin, you need to talk about it,” Mari said as he began to walk away from their booth. He ignored her, his frown deepening as he headed towards the bar. He slid his empty glass onto the countertop, settling into a seat at the bar as he ordered another scotch. The blond-haired man had seemed to disappear amongst the small crowd, no longer providing Savin with a momentary visual distraction.
Instead, his mind returned to the scene of the operation room earlier that day. The blood as the man’s aorta ruptured without any warning whatsoever, the frantic actions of both himself and his father, a far more experienced surgeon than himself. Savin put a hand to his forehead, covering his face as his shoulders shook.
He didn’t come here to think about this. Didn’t want to think about the loss his patient’s family had experienced, that day. Didn’t want to think about anything except the smooth burning sensation of the scotch as it slid down his throat. The way it made his head swim and feel slightly fuzzy.
The bartender came back, fresh scotch in hand, and Savin took it from him gratefully. As he turned to slip off the barstool, he bumped into something solid and shorter than he was. “Shit, I’m sorry!”
Savin blinked, his brow furrowing as he regained his sense of balance. The blond man Mari had pointed out to him now stood before him, his eyes wide and apologetic, his hands on Savin’s arms. “It’s -- it’s okay,” Savin said, clearing his throat. He glanced at his glass, which his fingers were thankfully still tightly wrapped around. “I should have been paying attention to where I was going.”
The other man smiled at him, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was the one who wasn’t paying attention,” he said, shaking his head slightly. He looked Savin over, backing away a bit to give Savin a little bit of space. Something about the blond’s smile changed, his eyes lighting up. “What’s your name?”
Savin held back a snort and shook his head, bringing his glass to his lips. He took a moment to appreciate Mari’s sharp eye and gave the blond man what he hoped was a warm smile, in return. “Savin Bates,” he said, offering the blond man his hand. “Yours?”
“Jazz,” the blond said, his grin growing wider as he took Savin’s hand in his own. His fingers were soft, unlike Savin’s cracked and dry ones. Savin internally cursed his job, but shook Jazz’s hand firmly, anyway.
“Jazz, huh?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow as he tipped his glass back. “No last name to go with it?”
Jazz winced, the action barely hidden by a quick smile. “I don’t like giving my last name out,” he said with a shrug. He let go of Savin’s hand and leaned in close. “Who’s to say Jazz is even my real name? It’s a little weird for a name, isn’t it?”
“A little,” Savin said with a shrug. He shifted slightly on his feet, trying to focus his attention elsewhere other than on Jazz’s clear, light blue eyes. Definitely his type, after all. He glanced over at his booth, where Mari sat watching him, a knowing smile on her face. Savin held back a laugh and shook his head. “It fits you though, I think,” he said to Jazz, tapping his free fingers against his glass. He tried to think of what to say next, but Jazz leaned in close again.
“Are you here with anyone?” Jazz asked, lifting a beer to his lips. He placed his free hand in his pocket, as if he were trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Except Savin couldn’t quite contain his grin. Jazz couldn’t make his intentions anymore obvious than they already were.
Savin glanced back at his table. “I’m here with my friend,” he answered, gesturing over to Mari. “We had a rough day at work. Figured we’d go out and have a couple of drinks.”
Jazz’s eyes followed Savin’s gesture, his expression falling just a little as he noticed Mari sitting on the table. “Just a ‘friend,’ huh?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you do?” he continued, turning his attention back to Savin.
“I’m a surgeon,” Savin said. Emboldened by Jazz’s obvious interest, he took the opportunity to lean in close, his lips brushing against Jazz’s ear as he spoke. “And she’s really just a friend.”
When Savin pulled away, he could see the faint blush on Jazz’s cheeks. “A surgeon?” he asked, clearing his throat and looking away from Savin for a moment. “Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?”
Savin laughed, feeling his whole body relax for the first time that evening. He smiled, his lips tugging upwards with ease as his fingers itched to reach out and touch Jazz. “Not really -- I’m thirty, so just old enough,” he said with a wink. He sipped at his scotch again, his eyes following the length of Jazz’s body, the curve of his lips. How long had it been since he took anyone home, male or female? On impulse, he moved in close again and put his free hand on Jazz’s hip, his fingers slipping under the untucked edge of Jazz’s shirt and brushing against skin. “Hopefully I’m not too old for you.”
“As long as twenty-five isn’t too young for you, I don’t see a problem, here,” Jazz said in response, smirking. He put his bottle down on the bar, putting distance between himself and Savin yet again.
Savin pretended to think about it, pressing his scotch against his lips before downing the rest of it. As he placed the now empty glass on the counter beside Jazz’s beer. “No,” he said after a while, smiling at Jazz. He motioned towards the door. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked, meeting Jazz’s eyes as best he could.
Jazz gave him a wry smile. “Won’t your friend be pissed you left her here?” he asked, his face still pink. Those blue eyes of his shined with mirth, as well as unmistakable lust.
Savin shrugged his shoulders. “I think she’ll be okay,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He retrieved his phone and glanced at it, smirking when it vibrated, a text from Mari popping up on his screen. Told you he was gay. Take him home already, jeez! it read. Savin shook his head and showed Jazz the text. “See?”
Jazz’s face turned an unmistakable shade of scarlet as Savin slipped his phone back in his pocket. “I see,” he stammered, putting a hand to his face. As he pulled his hand away, he moved in close to Savin. “How close is your place?” he asked, his blush dying away.
“Not that far,” Savin answered. “So... What do you say?” he prompted. There was hardly an inch separating them, now, even if they weren’t touching one another. “Wanna go back to my place?”
Jazz’s lips peeled apart in a slow smile. “Sure,” he whispered, meeting Savin’s eyes. “I think we both could use some fun.”
Savin nodded, his heart skipping a beat. He acknowledged Mari on his way out, his hand placed on the small of Jazz’s back as he guided the younger man out the doors of the bar and took him home.
He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this, in the morning.
Next Chapter