But Damon looked deathly serious – and worse, regretful.

Micah buried his face in his hands. “Oh God.” He was a fucking idiot.

“I shouldn’t have-”

Not giving Damon a chance to finish his sentence, Micah pushed the man backward out of his space and jumped down from the counter. “You shouldn’t have what?” he snapped. “Got intimately acquainted with the taste of my mouth? Pressed your huge cock up against my crotch without expecting a whore like me to actually want a piece of it?”

Made me think someone like you could possibly want someone like me?

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Micah bit out, not sure if he was more irritated with the man for leading him on or at himself for daring to believe it. “Just… stop talking.” He shouldered past Damon, stinging with rejection yet impossibly hard in the fucking skirt he was still wearing.

Jesus Christ.

He needed to get the fuck out of there before he somehow managed to embarrass himself further.

“What are you doing?” Damon asked, but he didn’t follow Micah as he marched across the room, obviously sensing he needed space.

“I’m leaving,” he announced plainly, jamming his feet into his shoes.

That got the man moving. “What? No. Hey, wait-!”

And that was Micah’s cue to dart out the door. He booked it down the hallway. There was a bellhop by the elevator who hadn’t been there when he and Damon had arrived, and the college-aged kid watched with wide eyes as Micah smashed the elevator’s “down” button over and over again.

Thank whatever deity was watching over him, the elevator was already on their floor and opened pretty much immediately.

“Hold the elevator!” he heard Damon shout somewhere down the hall, but the doors were already closing, and the last glimpse Micah got before they shut completely was a frazzled-looking bellboy, looking like he wanted nothing more than to join Micah in the elevator.

(Micah hardly blamed him. Damon sounded pissed.)

He was sure it took longer to descend than it had to take the elevator up to Damon’s suite. When it finally stopped at the lobby, the elevator released a pleasant chime as the doors opened, and Micah had to fight the urge to make a scene by sprinting across the grandiose room.

He settled for speed-walking towards the glass doors that signaled freedom from the fucked situation he found himself in. He noticed one of the security guards pressing a hand against his earpiece, like he was listening intently to instructions, before his eyes swiveled and suddenly met Micah’s. They widened. “Hey, you-!” he started, attempting to reach for him.

Micah elbowed him hard in the gut and bobbed under his arm before darting outside. He heard the man’s partner yell after him, but Micah ignored him, hotfooting it down as many blocks as he dared – bulldozing past a few unlucky people still roaming New York City’s sidewalks at ass o’clock at night – before finally daring to duck into an alleyway.