Tied Up in Knotts Ch. 12

"We should do something different when we stop next." Penn's arm was still draped behind my seat just as it had been for the last few days. As was my hand on his leg. Besides the type of flirting that simmered below the surface, this was as far as things had gone between us.

"Like what?" I shifted my weight to relieve pressure on my butt and back. It was also an excuse to adjust my grip on Penn's thigh, moving from my perch on his knee to a warm spot mid-thigh. He shifted with me and pressed his leg against mine, opening his legs ever so slightly.

"I don't know, maybe we could check out the nightlife or something? We haven't done anything like that since we started. Might be fun."

I slowly looked at him, skepticism written all over my face. "Nightlife?"

"Yeah, like a nightclub or something."

"Like, a dance club?"

This time he looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Yes, like a nightclub. Would that be the worst thing ever?"

"Have you ever been to a dance club?" He didn't strike me like the kind of guy that went to dance clubs. I wasn't. Plus, weren't we too old for that stuff?

"Of course I've been to dance clubs. Who hasn't?" When I didn't respond he started laughing. "Oh my god, you've never been to a dance club?"

"Of course I haven't. Why would I? It's a breeding ground for STDs and anonymous hookups. Neither of which I have been interested in."

"Oh, Nay. You poor, sheltered soul. Now you don't have a choice. We're going out." Once again, I looked at him with all the skepticism I felt. "Don't worry," he soothed, "I'll protect you from STDs and anonymous hookups."

"That's not encouraging. What about all the drugs? Dance clubs are ground zero for drugs."

I know I sounded like a total prude but I'd spent my whole life as a role model and had stayed far away from anything that led to reckless behavior. I never regretted those decisions and was even proud to be one of the few people that could say they'd never done drugs, never had a one-night stand, married their high school sweetheart, never went to a dance club, etc. There weren't many people who could say those things.

"I don't see that being a problem, you're the poster child for saying no. In fact, you've had thirty-five years of practice. You'll do just fine," he ruffled my hair, making me feel like a small child, yet, making me smile at the same time. I wasn't excited about going to a dance club but if I had to go, I was glad to do it with Penn.

****

It was late morning when we arrived in Saigon. I knew it was big but still wasn't not prepared. Eight million was a far cry from the almost two million that made up Portland and surrounding areas. We did a bit of sight-seeing. We saw the French landmarks including the Notre-Dame and the nineteenth-century central post office. By the time nightfall came around, I was ready to bail on going out.

"I don't think so," Penn said when I flopped down on the communal couch. "We're going out. This is a once in a lifetime trip and you're going to experience all that Vietnam has to offer, night club wise."

"But I'm so tired," I whined. He raised his brow, challenging me to defy him. Which I wouldn't do. He was hard to say no to. "Fine, but I'm going like this," I said, gesturing to the Bermuda shorts and button-down I'd worn all day.

He looked me up and down. "That is one way to stop offers of anonymous hookups."

"Asshole," I shot back and he laughed.

****

The line to the nightclub was insane. I wasn't excited to wait in line but there was plenty going on to keep me entertained while I did. Maybe I really had lived a sheltered life because the way people were dressed had my eyes bugged out of my head.

"Stop staring. You look like a fish out of water."

"I don't even know what's happening. This is crazy." What little clothes people wore were brightly colored and eccentric. There were lots of bright wigs and loud make-up. "Is it like this in the States?"

"No," he laughed as he looked around. "This is new to me. It's kind of cool though, you have to admit." It was fascinating, that was for sure.

We were in line for twenty minutes before we paid our cover and made our way inside. The music was nothing I recognized or anything I would have chosen. Penn grabbed my hand and dragged me to the crowded bar. He didn't let go of my hand as he pressed forward. As he waited for his turn to order drinks, I took in my surroundings. Small town, innocent Nash was way out of his league.

"Hello, handsome American," a soft, heavily accented voice sounded beside me. I turned to find a petite woman, likely a local, standing against me. She brushed my chest with her hand and batted her eyelashes all while sipping her drink. She was a tiny thing. I doubt she was five feet or weighed more than ninety pounds.

"Hello—" I hesitated, not really knowing what to do or say.

She smiled and tugged my shirt. "Come. You dance with me."

This was how anonymous sex happened. I was sure of it. I jerked Penn's hand. He looked back at me, brows furrowed, asking 'what', I nodded to the girl trying to abduct me. It took him a second to realize what was going on. He smiled then gave her an apologetic look as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him. The woman walked away pouting. I stayed plastered to his body and looked over his shoulder at the crowd of people dancing and milling around.

"Is your virtue okay?" He asked in my ear.

"No, she just tried to have sex with me." I was a real prude. I knew it.

"Well, yeah," Penn laughed. I'm sure that was her plan. Here—" I turned to find four shot glasses and a glass of soda on the bar. He handed me one and kept one for himself.

"Oh no," I said, shaking my head. "I don't like alcohol."

"I know, but it's part of the experience. We're going to take two shots each and that's it. Just enough to relax. No more, I promise." He nudged the glass in my hand. I looked at the amber liquid. It was embarrassing really.

"I, um, I've never taken a shot before."

I thought Penn would judge me, maybe give me a hard time like he'd done when he found out I'd never been to a dance club, instead his expression softened and he took the shot out of my hand.

"You don't have to take shots. I can just dump it in the coke."

He'd put thought into the drinks and I didn't want to shag away. Yes, I didn't drink often but that didn't mean I couldn't take two shots for Penn. I grabbed his hand before he could put the shot out. "No. I'll do it."

No time like the present. We both lifted the shot and I watched as Penn drank his effortlessly in one swallow. He made it look so easy. I assessed the shot, took a deep breath, and poured it in my mouth.

I meant to swallow like Penn had done but the harsh liquor burned and I couldn't get myself to swallow it. I stared at Penn in a panic with a mouth full of acid whiskey. I didn't know what to do. Penn laughed. "You're gonna have to swallow, Nash. I don't know what else to tell you."

I steeled myself and did just that. It was the worst experience of my life. It burned. Burned so bad. It was disgusting and I couldn't help but make face as my whole body convulsed in disgust. Penn handed me the soda and I quickly drank it down.

"Ugh, how do people do that?" I asked as my body shuttered in the aftershock.

"Most people don't store it in their mouth like a chipmunk. Here—," he handed me the second shot and I shook my head. Hell no was I doing that again. "Don't take the whole thing. Try taking a mini shot."

It took me three times to get the whole thing down. Penn was patient during the whole thing; handing me the coke after each pathetic attempt.

"You did it!" He lifted his hand for a high five. It was a little humiliating. I guess it was better to do it with Penn instead of a group of guys that would surely have ribbed me good.

"Never again," I muttered, still trying to get the taste out of my mouth. Whiskey was not my friend.

"Ready to dance?" He nodded toward the floor.

I wasn't ready to dance but the sooner we did it the sooner we could leave. Penn took my head and pulled me through the crowded club until he found a spot worthy of dancing. There wasn't a lot of room but we managed to find some space. Even if I didn't love clubs, I did enjoy dancing.

Several girls approached but quickly moved along when they realized that neither of us was interested. I can't speak for Penn but I wasn't there to dance with anyone else and, if I was real and honest, I didn't think Penn was either.

"I'll be right back, I need to use the restroom," I shouted aver the music. Penn nodded and made a show of letting me know he'd be in that exact spot when I got back.

The line was long and the bathrooms were gross. Judging by the noises, I was pretty sure there were two people in the stall. When I made it back, Penn was still there he just wasn't alone. There was another guy trying to overtly press himself against him. Penn looked at me with wide, pleading eyes. The same help me eyes I gave him at the bar earlier. I pulled him from the unwanted guest and put my arm around his waist until we were chest to chest. I turned to the intruder and gave the guy my best 'get lost' look. He backed off but continued to dance nearby. He knew a good thing when he saw it and wasn't willing to give up on Penn prematurely.

I felt no jealousy, if anything I felt empowered. I was tired of pretending there was nothing between us and worse, making excuse after excuse as to why we couldn't. I was over it.

So we danced, never breaking eye contact as our bodies swayed. Penn looked at me with an intensity that could bend steel. I had to give him props for putting himself out there. He got me to the club and now we were dancing the way lovers do. I could have rejected the whole idea.

God, my fucking heart wanted him so bad it was trying to beat out of my chest. And my heart wasn't the only thing beating for him.

The faster the music got the slower we danced until it just didn't matter anymore. Penn rested his forehead against mine and his hands snaked around my waist. I wasn't dumb, he wanted to kiss me; I could see it written all over him like a terrible graffiti. For the first time ever, I was ready for it. Were there things that needed to be discussed? Yes. But the need to finally shine the light on whatever was happening between Penn and I was stronger.

I waited for him to move in, to take me the way his eyes shown he wanted to, but it never came. He just continued to devour—just with his eyes and not his lips. I decided to throw caution to the wind and take the initiative. What could it hut?

I closed my eyes and leaned forward.

Just when I expected to taste his plush lips for the first time, I was yanked forward.

The lights were flashing and the music was obnoxiously loud as Penn dragged me through the crowd like a misbehaved child. His grip with deathly tight and the few times I saw his profile, he looked angry. I didn't think he was upset that I'd tried to kiss him but I wasn't sure what else it could be. I was so sure he wanted it, had wanted it for months. Why was his reaction so extreme?

He continued to pull me by the hand even after we left the club. He was walking so fast I almost had to run or risk tripping over. We were heading in the direction of the hostel but I didn't think that was what he had in mind. His eyes darted up and down the street, then down every side alley we passed. He never found what he was looking for.

Suddenly he was pulling me through a gate and down some rustic concrete stairs to a small park that ran along-side the river. It was an outdoor venue for concerts or something and, judging by the string lights that hung everywhere and the trash on the ground, we just missed something fun.

Finally, Penn stopped. He jerked me around until we chest to chest. His chest was heaving and his eyes were dark and—almost frantic.

"How dare you," he growled, making my stomach twist with anxiety. "In the club? I didn't wait this long to kiss you so it could be in a club next to someone who just offered me an exchange of blow jobs and cocaine."

He threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled me closer. I didn't say anything as I stared at him, waiting for his next move. The air was thick and tense as the seconds ticked by. Then he kissed me, he fucking kissed me. It was light, the softest of pecks. Then it was more. You better believe that I kissed him back. It was everything I imagined, wanted, needed, and desired.

Kissing was kissing, but kissing Penn was like perfecting eggs benedict; complicated and perfectly balanced. His passionate, caring nature melded into one tender, scorching kiss. My fingers dug into his back because I wanted it so bad.

My heart was beating erratically and I was panting when he pulled away. He literally kissed the sense out of me. I don't think I knew north from south or east from west. I wasn't completely sure what country I was in or if I was even alive.

I thought, maybe a few smaller kisses would help me come to. So that's what I did. I kissed him. Tasted those sweet lips and let my tongue slide against his. Nope. A bunch of kisses later and I was just as turned about as before. If not more. It took me a minute to collect myself. Not easy when his fingers caressed the back of my neck and he looked at me like I was the last cheeseburger on earth.

His neck was flush and blotchy looking. The way it always got when he was nervous. He bit his lip and watched me, waiting for my reaction.

"So, we just kissed."

"About time," he leaned forward and softly kissed my lips, again. "Was this okay?"

"Yes," I said, and it was the truth. Kinda. Penn's kiss was the best I'd ever had. Even the hormone-filled years when every sexual experience blew my mind didn't hold a candle to the way Penn's lips felt on mine. "It was amazing, perfect even."

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"I know, me too."

He shook his head and ran his fingers down my arm. "No, I mean, I wanted to do that for a really long time."

I smiled and kissed him again. He was addicting and I wanted to kiss him all night long. I hung on to the front of his shirt and held him close as we made out on the waterfront. The kissing was less urgent but just as sweet. Maybe more. And I could feel him against me. He was hard, like me, but neither of pressed that issue. It wasn't about that. It was about two men who had been dancing around each other for much too long.

"Are you ready to head back?" He asked. I wasn't even sure how long we'd been standing there but the breeze was a lot colder than it was when we arrived.

Neither of us said anything as we walked back through the park, it was quite beautiful now that I was paying attention. Kind of perfect for a first kiss. I reached over and slid my fingers in his, I wasn't sure how he'd react and would've understood if he pulled away, but he didn't. Penn looked down at our hands and smiled.

The moment truly was perfect. It was the perfect place with the perfect man. Everything about the kiss had been perfect. Everything except one teeny tiny thing that was nagging in the back of my mind.

"You're married," I said—well kind of blurted, really. But I'd put it out there. He was married. To Cam.

Penn slowed and looked at me. For a second, he looked confused, a moment later there was the telltale sign of recognition, then he closed his eyes like he was collecting himself.

"Camille," I said, in case he needed to be reminded. "I know we haven't talked about it, like, at all, but we have to. You know we have to."

"I guess." He said it like I'd asked him to go exchange the keylime yogurt for Mango on his way home from a long day at work. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about. Cam and I talked a while ago and are filing the paperwork. I thought it would be done by now but then things got kind of chaotic and it got put on the back burner."

"I'm so confused." I said. I was missing something.

"About what?"

"Everything." I pulled my hand from his. "You and Cam. You. None of it makes sense to me. You're married but she lives an hour away, you work out of town most of the time, and she flirts with other guys—" I paused and held his gaze for a beat. "You both flirt with other guys. In fact, you spend all your time with other guys—"

"No, not other guys. You. I flirt and spend my time with you."

"Yeah, well, as good as that sounds, it's hard not to feel shitty about sitting here with you knowing you're married. How hypocritical could I be after everything Lee? And now I'm doing the same thing?"

Penn reached out and drew me closer. His dark eyes were sharp. "Now I'm confused. This isn't the same thing. Cam and I got married for a lot of reasons and none of them were right. I had my heart broken by a boy who didn't know I existed and Camille lost her parents. Don't ask me why we thought marriage would fix anything. The only reason we're still legally married is because there wasn't a reason to divorce—until you. Honestly, besides a piece of paper we signed when we were babies, we're not even married. We're just best friends. The marriage, if that's what you call it, is a technicality that doesn't even cross my mind most days."

"Then why didn't you divorce years ago? Why stay married so long?"

"If it was just me, we'd have divorced years ago. I actually brought it up not long after we went to the courthouse and got married. I knew it was stupid right way. Cam was different. She had a traumatic past. She enjoys the company of men but only for the night. She struggles in relationships, always has. Being married made it easy. She had the perfect excuse to brush guys off."

"Couldn't she just tell the guys she's married even if she wasn't?" I asked.

"Sure, but I had no prospects, I didn't date, I wasn't even looking. It didn't impact my life one way or another if we were legally married or not. Our relationship is based on our friendship."

"You really married a girl because a boy broke your heart?" I asked, curious as hell about it all.

"Yes. I married my best friend because the love of my life married someone else. And if he was going to get married then so was I. Plus, Cam's from Canada and her dad was here for work. After they died, she was afraid of being deported. I don't know what was more stupid, thinking she was going to be deported back to Canada or me marrying a girl. And to think that eighteen is considered the age of consent," he laughed.

I looked at Penn, his profile glowed, backlit by street lamps. "Do you regret it?"

"Even a child knows you shouldn't marry someone you don't love because you're angry at someone else. I wouldn't do it again but I don't regret it."

"Does your family know?"

Penn threw his head back and laughed. "Yes. Like everything else, they know way too much."

We walked hand-in-hand down the street. It was a damn soap opera if you asked me. I wasn't judging him, just trying to wrap my brain around it all. If it was anyone else, I would've thought they were lying to me, but this was Penn. I shouldn't have been so trusting after what Lee had done but assuming the worst was exhausting and deep down, I wanted Penn to be everything Lee wasn't.

Penn squeezed my hand in rapid succession. When I looked at him, he was watching me, curiously.

"Out with it."

"I don't know!" I laughed at the absurdity of it all. "You said you were in love with a him, so you're gay? And you've been married for a long time so I'm guessing you've been gay for a long time? How has that not gotten around? That kind of thing doesn't stay silent around here. I would've heard about it. Lincoln's gay community is small and we hear everything. And Cam didn't care that she was marrying a gay man? That seems unlikely. And your family? I don't know, this is all so...crazy."