15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Beau
I could be a jackass and point out that all photographers make moments last forever—it’s sort of how the whole picture thing works—except that even with two and a half beers in me, I know that’s not what Adrian means. He makes moments last forever when they were never meant to be more than fleeting, and forgotten once the experience passed. People pose for the camera all the time. Invite it places. Ask it to witness the most important things. But one person’s hand in another person’s hair?
Adrian decided those few seconds should be endless.
And his love for that gift is palpable.
I should compliment him again, maybe just to see him get flustered one more time, but I must take too long to say anything, because Adrian frowns at me and glances at the dance floor. He steals another sip of beer that his fancy NYC taste buds must despise, then taps the side of his camera .
“I need to get some close-ups of the dance floor. Poke around at its secrets for a while,” Adrian says. “But do you think we could talk later?”
“Tonight?”
Adrian shrugs. “As long as we’re here. And it might be better for us than a phone call, right?”
I don’t take the bait, but I'm a blushing man, and he must know his point was made just fine. “Yeah, sure. Come find me whenever you’re done.”
It looks like there’s more Adrian wants to say, but I push away from the table and head toward the bar, and he’s forced to hold his tongue when he goes in search of more pictures of things I probably don’t notice anymore, if I ever did. Both Darren and Riley are still busy behind the bar, though everything is slowly quieting around me, and I pull out my phone to reread the identical texts I’d sent to them that morning.
Not sure I should be there. things didn’t end well with us. Don’t wanna make it worse
Their responses—sent separately only about three seconds apart—had been so predictably and perfectly them, and I almost want to throw my phone even as I smile down at the screen now.
Fuck off with the weepy shit, I’ll see you tonight
Doubt anything ended but you can borrow my ear buds if it gets that bad
I drop my phone onto the bar and feel strong hands squeeze my shoulders before Jake lets go and sits next to me. Neither one of us has a drink anymore, and I don’t think either of us plans to ask for one. He’s probably headed home soon, and I’ve gotta make sure my head is clear for whatever Adrian wants to say.
“You look like you haven’t decided whether to laugh or cry,” Jake tells me. “And since all this photoshoot hoopla is almost over, I’m gonna guess your mood has more to do with the guy taking the pictures.”
“Mmmm, you’re not wrong.”
“Things have always been weird between you two. Something happening outside of here?”
I turn to look at him from beneath the brim of my hat, his gray hair messy and probably sexier than I could ever imagine being in another 15 or 20 years. “Darren hasn’t regaled you with all my drama?”
“Go ahead,” Jake shrugs, and I can’t tell what that means.
“We’re not a thing, no. He’s got Levi’s ring on his finger, for fuck’s sake. But we’ve seen each other a few times, and then I was a dick, and I hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, until tonight. Now he wants to talk.”
“Maybe he wants to apologize for being a dick to you , because there’s no chance that whatever happened was a one-sided thing.”
V and Noah walk by and we nod, and I notice Riley’s crawling back into their hoodie, their non-existent shift over. I don’t know whether my fight with Adrian was one-sided or not, and I’m not about to figure it out when Jake is looking at me like he knows too much, so I change the subject and ask Jake about his job and his daughter and the little vegetable garden he has at home that few others would expect him to love.
We talk until the hum of the bar settles and Jake decides it’s time for him to go.
I walk him to his bike because I’ve decided I need some fresh air. I kiss him on the cheek and tell him to be safe because I’m a damn gentleman, too.
The March night isn’t as cold as I expected it to be, and I’m not sure I’m all that interested in going back inside now that I’m surrounded by relative silence and a moon that might have forgiven me for all the sins it’s been forced to witness here. I wander out to the street and back, once and then twice, and then I find my truck in the mostly empty parking lot and drop the tailgate.
There’s a cargo box I’m grateful for on nights like this, and I open it to retrieve a blanket I can bunch up and use as a pillow. Stargazing isn’t much of a thing with so many lights around, so I remind myself I can go camping when the weather warms, content for now to set my hat aside and lie down and close my eyes and daydream about sunshine. The beer and the blanket and the darkness must be enough to put me to sleep though, everything I’d been thinking about forgotten when I’m held in place by something else. A dream, I assume, the touch I feel gentle and warm where it’s pressed to the leg of my jeans. When I roll to my side, the tender thing follows me, curled around my calf and so steady there.
Then my hat lands near the top of my head, not quite on , but certainly not where I’d left it, and I lift a hand to knock it away .
“No, leave it. I want a few like this.”
“Want a few what ,” I grumble, still trying to move my hat until a hand catches mine.
I scowl and open an eye and realize I haven’t been dreaming at all, Adrian sprawled across the bed of my truck—and on top of my legs—with a camera in his other hand. He shakes his head and lets my hand go, like maybe he believes in my ability to behave more than I do. Then he lowers his body more than seems possible and points the lens toward my incredulous face.
“Changed my mind about needing you.”
“For your photoshoot?”
Adrian lowers the camera long enough to blink a couple of times, then raises it again. “Yeah.”
“Doesn’t that thing zoom in so you don’t have to climb on top of all your models?”
“I took some from further away while you were fast asleep and—”
“I was restin’ my eyes,” I argue.
Adrian smiles. Probably. I can’t see it, but it’s loud. “Okay, I took some from further away while you were resting your eyes, but the angles are different up close and the focus changes. You’ve gotta relax, though. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Wasn’t worried about that.”
“But you’re worried about something.”
And yeah, he’s probably right, because whatever angles he’s going for are causing him to shift every few seconds, and with both hands on the camera now, his entire body is left to rock against mine in one direction or another. Of course, my traitorous hip picks that exact moment to remind me that lying on my side in the bed of a truck isn’t ideal, and I have no choice but to reach for Adrian while I roll onto my back again.
The sound he makes in response is sinful. Mine is no better. I can almost feel brick against the palm of my hand.
He takes more pictures somehow, and I don’t want to know what I give away, even in the dark.
“I assume this isn’t what you had in mind when you said we should talk.”
“No,” he murmurs.
“We gonna talk now?”
“Not sure I have all that much to say. I’m sorry, maybe. And I’m trying.”
Adrian finally puts the camera down, but he makes no effort to get off me, his arms folded on my chest and his chin resting there like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And maybe it would be if my dick weren’t pressed against Adrian’s stomach damn near begging for him to rock forward.
But it’s so easy to see the wedding band in the moonlight, and I can’t help but play with it.
“Tryin’ to be my friend again?”
“If that’s what you want.”
I sigh. “You know it’s not.”
“I told you a long time ago that I’m a bitch and a mess.”
“You did,” I agree. “And I think maybe I’ve always wanted to fix the bitch. Clean up the mess. ”
“Luca or Darren?”
“Both, probably.”
Adrian tips his head sideways and nods as well as he can. “I wasn’t asking you to fix me, though.”
“Neither were they.”
We’re quiet for a while, and it’s far too comfortable, one of my hands still covering his while my other finds the bare skin between the bottom of his sweater and the top of his jeans. It would be so easy to do any of a dozen things from here, but I can barely breathe, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the physical pressure against my chest. Something stirs in the wreckage we can’t seem to leave behind, but when Adrian turns his head so he’s not looking at me anymore, maybe that’s for the best. He's changed, and I feel it everywhere, but I'm not sure I can safely stare directly at it.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
“That’s a hell of a thing for you to say, even when your hair is always hidin’ half your face from me.”
Adrian laughs against me, and it doesn’t turn me on any less. “You know what I look like.”
“Mmmm. Enough to know you’re beautiful, too.”
“Does that mean we’re friends again?”
“You think that’s my criteria?” I ask.
“I’ve seen your friends, Beau.”
My grip on his waist tightens, and I’m so close to rolling us over, but I take a deep breath instead. “How long is it gonna take for you to get all the marketing stuff together? ”
“Not long. I was careful not to overbook so I’d have time to work on everything, and we can all hit WeHo whenever the rest of you are ready.”
“Group project?”
“Might be fun, right?”
I pull my hand away. “Friendly, too.”
We decide to make a day of it—Riley, Darren, Jake, Noah, V, Adrian, and I—and we’ll be meeting at Trailhead before we work our way through a list of places we’ve picked out in West Hollywood. Jake reiterated that there are two groups of people to target, so we’ll be handing out some promotional offers for businesses to share with their customers, and others to be kept among the employees themselves. For clothing stores, tattoo parlors, hair stylists, spas, and art galleries, Adrian has designed advertising with a BOGO deal V suggested. For restaurants, we’re planning to lure their servers and bartenders with a free drink if they show their nametag, because they’re usually big drinkers who won’t stop at one, and rarely do they hang out at their own job to do it.
Adrian also did a hell of a job revamping the Trailhead website, so anyone who wants more information will be treated to incredible pictures of the bar and its typical crowd, the tap list, drink specials, and details about trivia night and karaoke.
Oh, and he’s also the one person I won’t meet up with at Trailhead, because he’s coming to my apartment first, and the knock at the door must be him.
“Still don’t quite understand why you needed my place,” I say in lieu of something accidentally sweet.
Adrian hurries past me and carries a laptop case and a duffel bag to my dining room table before he turns, his hands on his hips.
“I told you, I wanted to make sure I had a few things ready, just in case we get any new ideas while we’re out today. If there’s something we think we missed, I’ll just head back over to Trailhead tonight and take pictures of whatever else we need.”
“But you don’t want to leave anything at Trailhead?”
“I still don’t know them all like you do,” he explains. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Even though you’re doing them a huge favor with this photoshoot stuff?”
“Even though, yeah. And I didn’t want to leave anything in my car all day, and since you’re basically around the corner from the bar—”
I smile. “You’re using me.”
“None of my stuff will be in your way today. You’ll be busy with your friends as soon as you stop glaring at me. And I’m pretty sure those friends are waiting for us if you’re ready to flirt with dozens of queer beer lovers in the name of the bar you adore.”
“Ah, flirting. Is that the plan?”
“I’m not in a position to stop you, am I?”
I don’t answer. Don’t want to and won’t try. Instead, I turn to grab my sneakers and shove my phone into my pocket and pick up my keys, opening the door without worrying about whether Adrian will follow. I’m locking up behind him before I can really wonder what happens next.
For the first hour or two, it’s pretty much what I expected, the seven of us carpooling to make parking easier, then splitting up to make it through as many businesses as possible without any of them feeling like we’re only there for a two-minute sales pitch. We meet several managers and a few owners and lots of employees and customers, and while some blow the two of us off, plenty are interested, especially when we agree to help promote them in return. The same seems to be happening for Darren and Jake, and for V, Noah, and Riley, and it feels good, even early in our journey from store to store.
But maybe it feels a little too good, all the smiles and questions and stories about Trailhead—and yes, the flirting, too—because somehow Adrian and I end up leaning into each other as we talk it up. Everywhere we go, someone’s hand is against the small of the other’s back, complemented by the constant nudge of our shoulders back and forth, like goddamn magnets were slipped beneath our skin. At one yoga studio, we can’t seem to stop talking to a gorgeous and lithe barista who bats their eyelashes at me long enough for Adrian to lace his fingers with mine like it’s a thing we do.
It’s absolutely not, but I think I let him get away with it because it’s not the hand wearing someone else’s ring.
It doesn’t stop, though. Or the hand holding does, but the touching doesn’t, and it’s only made worse when Darren gets hungry and starts whining in our group text, and Jake begs us all to pause long enough for an early dinner. We agree, of course, but then I remember that we’re among some of the most naturally affectionate motherfuckers I’ve ever met, and everyone is riding the same high of the early marketing success. Noah’s giving us hugs, and Darren and Jake kiss me on the cheek, and V squeezes Adrian, and Riley links their pinky with mine, and it never quite ends, even once we’re seated. Everyone is too close and whispering in each other’s ears and laughing at nothing.
My hand lands on Adrian’s thigh at some point, and I forget to care.
And at some point in the middle of our meal, I remember.
But I can’t do much about it then, and even if I were about to try, Noah throws a french fry at me from across the table.
“What’s up with you, JJ? Aside from the night we all got to pretend we were models, I haven’t seen you around Trailhead when I’ve stopped by. I know I’m the token straight dude who shouldn’t spend so much time there, but I thought for sure we’d eventually bury you with that damn barstool.”
Adrian’s thigh shifts below my hand as he turns to me, and I’m afraid a dumb joke about my death may have knocked the wind out of him, but he’s only completely, stunningly confused.
“JJ?”
Darren chokes on his beer, Riley smirks, Jake takes another bite of his burger, V flicks her son on the ear, and Noah laughs. “Oops, sorry. Forgot we have a new friend. ”
I roll my eyes, then meet Adrian’s. “My full name is Beauregard Jeremiah Davenport III—”
“Which is hysterical,” Darren interjects.
“Hysterical. Yes.” I flip him off without looking in his direction. “It’s dumb and sounds fancier than any of us ever dreamed of being, but my grandpa was fine going by Beauregard, and then my dad was always Junior, and they called me Beau from the time I was born. Then someone thought it would be funny to call me Junior Junior when he found out, and eventually he shortened that to JJ, and that’s why Noah thinks he’s real fuckin’ funny.”
I feel Adrian’s hand cover mine just before he takes aim at Noah. “I mean, BJ might’ve been the better nickname for the gay cowboy, but maybe this funny guy didn’t think it all the way through.”
There’s another round of choking and smirking, and then everyone gets back to their food, and I—I’m untethered when Adrian lets go. When I’m not doing much better a couple of drinks and a full meal later, I ask Riley to swap with Adrian before we hit up more of WeHo. I mumble some terrible excuse about giving Adrian the chance to get to know V and Noah a little better, but there’s not a soul who hasn’t figured out that I’m afraid to spend any more time alone with Adrian, including the man himself. He shoots me a look I don’t return, and then Riley is at my side, literally poking me there like maybe I’ll change my mind if I don’t want to be jabbed in the ribs a hundred more times. But I won’t, and when we all go our separate ways again, I’m not concerned about recapturing the magic we’d all had earlier, people all too happy to hear what Riley has to say. We’re a good team, something about opposites and attraction working in our favor, and I don’t have to worry about where my hands are when gratuitous touching isn’t Riley’s thing.
Visits that could be quick continue to be longer, and half the time I’m not even sure we’re talking business anymore, but it’s nice to be out like this, and I think it’s probably another couple of hours before our group texts suffer a new flurry of activity. V and Noah want to head back to Trailhead to check on everything there, especially when it’s one of the rare nights neither V nor Darren is working. Riley has been increasingly restless, and while they’re masking well enough that I’m not sure anyone else has noticed, they’ll be happier if they can drop their smile soon. Darren has proudly announced that he’s horny and wants to circle back to a bar or two with the goal of not leaving for a while, and he tells us he’s dragging Jake with him because “everyone will want to bang the hot old man.”
It means that Noah and V can easily give Riley a ride, and Darren and Jake are going nowhere, and Adrian and I are free to head straight back to my apartment so he can get the laptop and whatever camera gear everyone’s decided we don’t need.
The drive only takes 20 minutes and I’m not sure I could recall anything that happened after I opened the passenger door for Adrian and crowded him there for no reason, his gratitude offered in a tone so low it rattled something in my marrow. Getting behind the wheel was fine, but I don’t think I’d made it far before he grabbed my forearm while telling me about a gym owner who’d been incredibly handsy with Noah, the only straight one among us taking one for the team over and over again. A couple of minutes later, I was playfully shoving his shoulder about something, and he was swatting my thigh in response to something else, and I finally caught his hand mid-air and pulled it into my lap so he couldn’t keep annoying me, and then forgot, somehow, that I was supposed to let it go.
Maybe our fingers were threaded together again.
Maybe I ignored the extra weight of his left hand.
And maybe I haven’t forgotten a single second of our drive after all.
I slip my hand from his when I’m ready to park, suddenly gripping the wheel with both hands, my focus entirely on the space in front of me. Any excuses to touch Adrian are gone now, if they ever really existed at all, and I take a deep breath once I’ve cut the engine because I need to ask something before we leave the truck. I need to know whether he understands the way my want has unfurled into something that will blanket us both if he follows me anywhere.
“Do you want to stay down here while I run upstairs for your stuff?”
Adrian doesn’t answer until I finally turn to look at him, one heartbeat passing—and then two.
“No.”
I nod once and open my door to the quiet night sky and don’t worry about why I shiver before we’ve made it halfway to the lobby. He doesn’t say anything about it, but he doesn’t give me much chance to move away from him either, his breath dangerously close to the back of my neck when I let us into the building and blink stupidly at the elevator that remains broken more often than not. I don’t think I care, but in the two seconds it takes me to realize we’ll be taking the stairs, Adrian’s hand has landed on my waist, his touch barely strong enough to be called that. I’m still trying to outrun temptation, but temptation won’t let me go, even if it finally gives me the slightest head start when I walk toward the stairwell. Nothing gets any louder once we’re inside, even the echo of our footsteps hushed as we make our way up, and the empty space waits for us to make the sort of noise it wants to share.
The heavy door finally clicks shut behind us just as we approach the landing.
Then Adrian and I are level again, and I snap.
I push him up against the stairwell wall and put distance between us just as suddenly, that inch or two crackling with the same danger I’ve tried so hard to avoid. Adrian doesn’t breach it, though his struggle with restraint bleeds into blue eyes blown black, and I want to say a hundred filthy things. Instead, I reach for his hand and press my thumb to the wedding band that has kept us apart long enough.
“In about five seconds, I’m gonna take this off you,” I whisper. “So, if you don’t want that to happen, I need you to stop me now.”
Adrian stares at me and licks his lips and doesn’t say a fucking word.
The ring comes off more easily than I’d expected it to—I think I’d assumed it was clinging to Adrian as much as he was clinging to it—and once it’s in my hand, I treat it with more reverence than I ever had when it was on his finger. I look down at it for an important moment, then I tuck it deep into the pocket of my jeans and pretend neither of us can see how much I shake.
And then I kiss him.
It feels a lot like the first kiss it is, and it feels a lot like forever, and it’s the easiest and most difficult thing I’ve ever done.
I cradle his head and tip it just enough to give us more room, and whatever I thought would be reckless a minute ago is so perfectly slow now. Adrian’s hands are careful at my hips, like he’s afraid that if he touches me anywhere else, we might fuck against another wall. I’d promise him we won’t—really, I would—but my mouth opens against his and his tongue sweeps away any words I might have said. I return the favor and earn a whimper for my trouble, and I’m already imagining all the other sounds I might pull from the back of his throat, tonight or tomorrow or a dozen years from now.
His fingers curl around my jacket a few seconds later, and I let mine trail along his jawline until they fall.
“My things are still in your apartment,” he says, his voice rough. “If I can still follow you upstairs.”
“Best way for you to get them, probably.”
I turn away from him only because I know it’s temporary now, and I take the rest of the stairs two at a time, because I’ve never needed my apartment more. The inches between us still crackle and I know it’ll be my job to smother it all somehow .
I’d started it once upon a time, and I’ll need to stop it tonight, if for no longer than that.
But Adrian will stay awhile first.
Locking the door behind us is the first acknowledgement that this isn’t about getting a camera anymore. Then Adrian kicks off his shoes, and that’s the second one. I leave all my shit by the door and pad toward the kitchen like my entire world hasn’t flipped upside down after I’d given up hope that it ever could.
“Really?” Adrian asks, leaning against the front door with the sexiest smile on his face. “Is it snack time?”
I open the cabinet for a couple of glasses, then reach for an unopened bottle. “Saved myself some of that Texas whiskey, just in case.”
“And didn’t pour it down the drain after you left my place the day we painted?”
“For at least six different reasons, I wouldn’t dare.”
Adrian joins me without any further argument, and I push a glass into his hand before we each take a sip and lean against opposite countertops. The tension from the stairwell has followed us here, but it feels good to slow it down and make some peace with it, and Adrian seems content to drink with me before we start kissing again.
“So—JJ, huh?”
“Shut up. Noah’s the only one who gets away with that.”
“It’s worlds better than Beauregard Jeremiah,” Adrian points out. “And I’m not convinced Noah’s the only one who could get away with it. ”
I’m not sure whether he’s referring to himself or anyone else on the Trailhead promo tour, but he’s probably right regardless, and I grin before I take another sip.
“Guess we can discuss your little BJ joke another time.”
He smiles and nods and drinks, and I do the same. All those months ago, if I’d tried to imagine spending time with Adrian, I’m not sure my thoughts would’ve carried me toward something so quietly comfortable, but it’s all I want, for as long as I get to have it.
“We’ve never talked about what happened between you and Darren.”
It’s not what I’d expected him to say next, if I’d expected anything at all, but I shrug. “You’ve never asked.”
“Am I allowed to?”
“Pretty sure we’ve waded into far worse.”
He smiles again and, whiskey aside, I want to know how it tastes. “Okay, what happened between you and Darren?”
“He cheated on me.”
“As like—an ongoing thing?” Adrian asks.
“Just once. He confessed. I told him we’d figure it out and get past it. He said we should be done.”
“He didn’t want to figure it out.”
“Nope.” I shrug again. “I didn’t get it at the time, but now I know he wasn’t ready to figure any of it out. The commitment—the ‘for better or for worse’ of it all. We loved each other, but that’s rarely enough on its own, right?”
I’m not surprised when he lets that slide. “How long was it before you started fucking around?”
“I took a guy into the Trailhead bathroom a week after I moved out.”
“And Darren was working that night?”
“Of course he was.”
Adrian nods. “Okay, then what?”
“Then I fucked a different stranger a week or so after that. But if you’re still concerned about Darren, don’t be—we were at the guy’s apartment for that one.”
That earns me an eye roll. “How long was it before you took someone on an actual date?”
I pause for another sip and hold the whiskey on my tongue, absorbing the weight of Adrian’s question and taking several seconds to look over his shoulder and lose myself in my own apartment. I’ve brought men back here a handful of times, but everything about that has been quick and easy, and nothing about Adrian has ever been either of those things, even when our first night together was over in minutes.
I’m not much of a bullshitter, but I consider it now because telling the truth seems like a problem liquor may not be able to solve.
I swallow long before I speak at all.