Before They Were Lovers (Nothing Special Valentine’s Origin Story)

Chapter Nine

Day

Four months later, Valentine’s Day…

The city had been buzzing all week with the lovey-dovey energy of couples and friends preparing for Cupid’s holiday. Some walked down the streets carrying bouquets of flowers, dozens of balloons, and roses in every color, from rainbow to black. Nearly every darn restaurant—except fast-food joints and dive bars—was booked for the entire weekend.

Day fell into one of those categories this year. He’d been seeing a guy off and on since college, but they’d never been intimate, and he was hoping that changed tonight.

Prescott Vaughan was a gorgeous chef who’d made it all the way to the big screen after graduating from college and then a prestigious culinary school. He had cookbooks, a huge online presence, and hundreds of thousands of fans. Day had been surprised when Prescott reached out to him and said he’d be in Atlanta recording an episode at a high-end restaurant downtown and wanted to get together on the fourteenth.

Day stood in front of his mirror in his small bathroom, changing his shirt for the fourth time, debating whether to stay home tonight.

Fuck, but I don’t want to.

This was a moment with his longtime friend that he’d been waiting for since their freshman year. They were finally going to stop dancing around what they both wanted and have one amazing night in each other’s arms before his friend returned home to Virginia.

But as he glanced over his shoulder toward the living room, where God was reclined on his couch with his big boots propped up on his coffee table, scrolling on his phone, he continued to second-guess his decision.

God’s belt was undone, the top button of his jeans was open, and the zipper was down, appearing as if he had no intention of leaving.

Day wondered if it was fucked-up to leave his partner alone in Day’s apartment on the one day of the year he loathed, especially since Day wasn’t returning until morning.

“Man, you sure you wanna go out tonight?” God’s voice was rough.

He seemed to be going for nonchalant as he kept his eyes trained on the large binder, but Day had noticed he hadn’t turned the page in over an hour.

Day didn’t talk much about his personal life, and God didn’t discuss his random hookups, as if neither wanted details. But the tension between them had been off all week. The looks they’d exchanged were darker and said a bit more than usual.

Day hesitated before he sighed and squeezed the back of his neck.

“Come on, God. I’ve got a date.”

God pfft’d, all smug and condescending.

“Just seems strange you’d rather go out with one of these brainwashed fools on this so-called holiday instead of hanging out here, eating a pizza, and watching the game?”

Day turned and frowned. “We do that all the time. I need a night out.”

“You gotta work early,” God growled. “You’re being irresponsible.”

Day rolled his eyes as God murmured something else under his breath.

He dropped his head and braced his hands on the sink. Fuck . He wanted Prescott, but he also didn’t want to leave God. He made eye contact with God when he walked out of the bathroom.

Day could’ve sworn he saw regret and want—or was that need—as a heavy silence hung in the air. He didn’t like the ache of not knowing what the hell was going through his partner’s mind or if it could possibly threaten their connection.

Yeah, Day had a date, but there was no one more important than God in his life besides his family.

But God wasn’t gay. At least Day hadn’t heard of him dating men, not even in the past.

It was as if God hadn’t had a life before he went into the academy. He’d served in the military, but it was a topic he didn’t discuss, and his childhood was completely off-limits.

God had to have been hurt in the past and had chosen to bury it deep down in an inaccessible place that no one, not even God himself, was allowed.

The doorbell sounded throughout his place— shit, Pres is early —and God abruptly leaped up from the couch and stormed across the room.

“God,” Day called out, hurrying toward the door, but he wasn’t fast enough.

God yanked the door open and scowled down at Prescott in a way that made him jerk back.

“Um, good evening. Is Leonidis here?”

“No,” God snapped and tried to slam the door.

“Hey!” Day caught the door and shoved God from blocking the entrance.

Prescott saw him and rushed into his arms.

“Hey, handsome. Damn, it’s good to see you. I missed you.”

Day returned the tight hug.

After they pulled apart, Day nodded toward God.

“Pres, this is God.”

Prescott nodded, staring wearily as God continued to scowl.

“You remember me mentioning my partner.”

“I do.” Prescott extended his hand. “I’ve only heard good things, incredible things. It’s nice to finally meet you, man.”

God took Prescott’s hand. He must’ve gripped and squeezed it unnecessarily hard because Prescott grunted when he yanked his hand away.

Prescott was ten times more striking than when Day had last seen him. He stood tall in a tailored black suit and matching wool overcoat. He was the epitome of elegance, charm, and sophistication.

Day had been so worried about God’s reaction to his date that he’d missed the large bouquet of flowers in Prescott’s other hand.

“Those for me?” Day smirked and said in a teasing tone, “Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

“Seriously, fuckin’ cheap-ass carnations.” God yanked the flowers out of Day’s hands, scoffing so hard it sounded as if he’d choked on a chicken bone. “Aren’t you rich?”

Day glared with his teeth clenched, but God didn’t seem to care as he continued to try to intimidate his friend.

Prescott raised his hands in surrender and inched a couple of steps back when it was obvious God wasn’t going to let him in.

“Well, I chose carnations because Leonidis and I took a vacation with some friends to Bogotá, Colombia.”

“The capital of the carnation,” Day said, unable to hide his smile.

“We somehow got separated from our crew and ended up lost in a carnation maze garden.”

“It took at least three hours.” Day laughed. “It was harder than getting out of an IKEA.”

God sucked his teeth.

Prescott smoothly eased a single carnation from the bunch, putting it to his nose and inhaling before passing it to Day.

“The exit was through a wall of dark red carnations—the color for love, passion, and fascination. I picked one and gave it to you. Do you remember, Leonidis?”

“I remember,” Day whispered, accepting the flower.

“You ready for a Michelin-star dinner? I’ve been waiting two years to cook for you.” Prescott motioned toward the sleek black town car idling at the curb. “My yacht is docked at the Dekalb Marina.”

God’s face fell as fast as his bravado. The defeat in his eyes tugged at Day’s heart, causing an unbearable ache in his chest.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

God stared at him for a long time, his look seeming to beg Day to stay with him, to not leave him alone.

As he slid his hand into Prescott’s soft palm, God’s frown deepened. He yanked his coat off the hook and barreled past them.

Day watched his partner until he burned rubber out of the parking lot.

Prescott tilted his head. “He’s intense.”

Day sighed. “You have no idea.”

“I know that look, Leonidis.”

“What look?”

“The one you used to direct at me during our late-night study sessions.”

Day gave Prescott a soft smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you’re in a relationship of unrequited affection.” Prescott came inside and removed his coat. “Yeah, it is. Which means we’re obviously not going back to my yacht—that happens to have a Karpen Luxetop king-sized mattress covered in white satin rose petals, but hey.”

Day groaned, feeling as if his cock was pissed off at him for the egregious neglect. He removed his jacket and tossed it back over the coatrack. He was glad Prescott was letting him off the hook. He wanted the man badly, always had, but he wanted God more, despite whether his partner wanted him back.

“At least have a couple of drinks with me before you go to him.”

He and Day shared a gentle, chaste kiss, and then, over the next hour, he proceeded to tell his good friend what it was about God that drove him wild.