11. Good Old Fashioned Hospitality #2
Isabel left the dining area to get Robbie.
Jake sat down in his spot at the table, twirling his fork between his fingers.
Sitting across from Robbie after last night, after what they’d almost done, was going to be sheer torture.
Adding his aunt into the mix to force him to pretend nothing had happened at all was merely the insult to unbearable injury.
Robbie certainly didn’t make it any easier.
After the last few times, Jake had given enough away for Robbie to figure out exactly what he needed to do to get to him.
All the little knowing glances, the fingertips drumming on the table, the rise and fall of his chest in the shirt that was threads away from being too tight and had probably been tailored specifically for this occasion—specifically to get Jake to stare too long to deny what he was looking at—it was impossible for Jake to keep these things from wearing down his composure.
And then there was the foot.
The table was small and square, and Jake had tucked his feet under the chair to keep from bumping into anyone else.
But after a while his legs began to cramp, and he stretched them out.
That was the moment Robbie took his opportunity to undo him, inch by inch, until Jake couldn’t think straight no matter how hard he tried.
“I’m really intrigued by a couple of books, Isabel,” Robbie said as his foot slid across the floor, finding Jake’s without so much as a hitch in his conversation. “I’m happy to pay you for them, and I can take the rest to my store and sell them on commission if you’d like.”
“That would be wonderful,” Isabel said, dishing out green beans onto her plate. “But you take the books you want to keep for free. Marcus would have wanted you to have them after everything you did toward the end there.”
“Just let him pay, Aunt Isabel.” Jake rolled his eyes. “God knows it’s not gonna hurt his pocket.” Robbie nudged in between Jake’s feet, and he bit his tongue. He was going to say more, but he didn’t dare now.
“Jake is right,” Robbie said. “I should pay you for them. I promise you that I would buy the books if I saw them anywhere else, and I don’t want you to treat me differently just because you like me.”
“Oh, all right,” Isabel conceded, “but I don’t want much money. I really don’t need it either.” She gave a pointed look in Jake’s direction, and he averted his eyes.
There was little else he could look at safely now, so he lowered his head slightly, gazing down at his lap. He had a problem, and if he were a betting man, he would bet that Robbie had a problem right about now, too.
“Thanks again for inviting me to stay for lunch,” Robbie said.
Jake heard him set his fork down on his plate, and he looked up in time to see Robbie take a sip of water. His cheeks were ever so slightly flushed, a single strand of hair out of place. Jake raised an eyebrow, and Robbie smiled. He was still winning.
“Please,” Isabel said, “it’s an open invitation. Any time you want to drop by for lunch or dinner and you see my car in the drive, stop in. I can assure you that Jake won’t be so rude next time.”
“I don’t mind,” Robbie said. His toes had found the back of Jake’s arch where he was most ticklish, and he was stroking it gently, watching Jake out of the corner of his eye to see if he would squirm.
Jake clenched his jaw. His foot jerked, and he curled his toes, seconds off from pulling it away from Robbie entirely. But he kept it there, shifting in his seat as casually as he could muster.
“Is everyone ready for dessert?” Isabel asked. “I baked a pie earlier, and I was saving it for after dinner, but I think now’s the perfect time.”
“Pie sounds lovely,” Robbie said. “Here, let me help you.”
Jake straightened up, his brow furrowing slightly. Robbie stood, and he looked for the telltale bulge, the one he’d seen the night before, and the night before that, the one he’d squeezed, thinking he would finally get a taste of it before they were rudely interrupted.
Robbie flashed Jake a grin so quick he almost missed it. Annoyance bubbled up in his chest and throat, turning his cheeks red and his eyes dark. Was he trying to humiliate him? Or was it just a side effect of the masterful control he had over Jake right now?
“Jake, would you clear the table for us?” Isabel asked.
“Oh, uh…” Jake cleared his throat. “Yeah, in a minute, Aunt Isabel.”
He waited until the room was empty to stand up and adjust himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he inhaled sharply—deep enough that his lungs ached.
He needed Robbie out of here. He needed Robbie to stop playing games so casually when he was still so unsure of what he really wanted out of Jake. He needed Robbie.
“Well,” Robbie said, pushing his chair out as he folded his napkin and set it beside his plate, “I should be going now. I’ve taken up far too much of your time today, Isabel, and I’m sure you’re eager to get back to more pressing matters.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Isabel said. She looked so happy sitting at the table, her gaze flickering between Robbie and Jake. “I’m going to miss this place, and it’s because of people like you.”
“Really?” Jake raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, really.” Isabel stood, gesturing for Jake to get up too. “You go help Robbie take those boxes of books out to his car while I start on these dishes. And don’t even think about complaining, do you hear me?”
Jake nodded sheepishly. He joined Robbie in the living room, kicking at one of the boxes filled with books. “This looks fucking heavy,” he grumbled, immediately glancing back at the kitchen in search of Isabel’s disappointed face. “Could you not pick a less taxing hobby?”
“Career,” Robbie corrected him, “and no, I couldn’t. Didn’t you know? The more money you have, the more obnoxious your interests have to be. Just be grateful I didn’t get into horses. You could never handle the ride.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Stop whining and pick up a box.”
Jake grunted as he lifted the heavy cardboard box, fingers gripping the bottom so it didn’t fall out. “Open the door for me, will you?”
Robbie opened the door, then turned to Jake. “So, Jakey, huh?”
“It’s just what my aunt calls me. And my parents.”
“It’s cute.”
“It’s childish.”
“Well, you’re a childish guy, so it fits.”
Robbie unlocked his car from the doorstep. Jake saw the flash of the lights and heard the little swoopy beep it made, momentarily transporting him back to a time not so long ago, when he was watching Robbie leave and wishing the circumstances had been just a little different.
In broad daylight, the car was much less mysterious. It fit into the artificial city landscape well enough, but out here, it stuck out like a sore thumb. No wonder people hated Robbie Eaton so much. To see someone flaunt their wealth, even in little ways like this, it had to get tiring.
“Just set it in there,” Robbie said, gesturing to the empty trunk as it slowly opened at the push of a button.
“You sure? I wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty little backend.”
“Just set it down, Jake.”
Jake heaved it into the back, dusting his hands off before stepping away. There were red indentations on his palms where the edges of the box had cut in, but already as he rubbed at them, they were fading.
“I’ll get the other one,” Robbie said. “Thanks for the help.”
“No, I’ll get it.”
Their eyes met for just a moment, and Jake hoped that his sincerity wasn’t lost on Robbie. He’d been sarcastic with him so many times before that he worried now that when he was genuinely trying to be nice, if only for his aunt, Robbie would mistake it for something else.
Robbie looked away, hesitating. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
Jake brought the other box out to the car, depositing it beside the first, and Robbie let the back shut. It clicked into place after a few agonizing seconds, and they stood out there in silence, the afternoon sun beating down on them so hard that Jake had to squint to see Robbie.
“Tonight?” he asked. “The beach, I mean?”
“Yeah, tonight.” Robbie nodded stiffly.
“Are we…”
“No.”
“But what about at the table today?”
Robbie suddenly smiled, an almost pitying laugh escaping his lips. “A little footsie under the table got to you that easily, huh? I underestimated your need for—”
“Stop playing games with me,” Jake said, his voice dark and low, the inches between them disappearing as his fingers hooked between the plackets of Robbie’s shirt. “If you want me, you can have me. If you don’t, just tell me and I swear to God, I won’t ask you ever again.”
Robbie’s gaze shifted down toward Jake’s lips. Jake could still smell the apple pie on his breath, where it mingled with strong, bitter coffee. It wasn’t pleasant, exactly, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking in another whiff of it before Robbie stepped back.
“I want you,” Robbie said suddenly. “I want you so much, it hurts to breathe when I’m around you. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not going to end well, Jake. It can’t. People like me don’t get to live consequence-free the way people like you do.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t do a one-night stand,” Robbie said, desperation leeching through his hushed tone. “I can’t fuck someone and then walk away. I’m not like you.”
Jake took a long, heavy breath. His chest felt as though a barbell were being pressed down on it, crushing him from the outside in. Like Robbie had said, his mere presence made it hurt to breathe.