Chapter 2 #2
Scrumptious morsels await my approval.
This is the only part of the sign off that I willingly take part in. I reach for one of the small tasting plates and take a bite.
Fresh, bright flavours bloom across my tongue.
Porter returns from the kitchen with a tray of chocolate and raspberry mousse piped into individual shot glasses.
Each one has been adorned with an intricate twist of softly sculpted caramel.
While he adjusts another tray nearby, I stand back to admire the easy confidence of someone who knows his craft.
Quick hands, relaxed posture.
An occasional hum as he smiles to himself about something.
Or someone. I can guess who.
I try to think of something clever to say. I’m just about to ask him what he put in the marinade, but then Vonnie appears beside me out of nowhere.
She follows my line of sight toward the chef and pulls me briskly by the sleeve.
We stand behind the reception desk, voices low.
“Sorry to break your heart, but it’s best if I rip the band-aid off now. Before you spend the next forty eight hours going down a rabbit hole that leads nowhere. Like last time.”
Ouch. Her assessment is blunt, but well intentioned.
She recently witnessed my unrequited infatuation for one of the builders who fitted out the studio several months earlier. A supposedly straight, very married builder whose flirty gaze had no intention behind it.
“Okay. Hit me with it.”
I brace myself.
“My spies in the kitchen tell me that Porter has the hots for one of his friends.”
There it is. I exhale.
“I don't have a name yet. But a waitress who works with him often says that he and his crush have been circling each other all morning. Lots of unspoken glances and hand brushing.”
I nod. I’ve seen it too.
They can barely stay away from each other.
It’s almost like they have a secret.
And Porter’s pink cheeks say it all.
Fuck.
Why do I care so much?
I met this guy less than two hours ago.
I don’t know him. He’s a stranger.
I need to get a life.
“I can try to find out more if you want me to. All I know is, they've worked together for a while. He and Porter are very close friends.”
“Yeah, I figured,” I answer quietly.
I’m such a fool for even entertaining the idea.
Who am I to feel disappointed that this handsome, stroppy man already has his eye on someone else? Of course he does. And I need to pull myself together and be professional. Vonnie has just done me the biggest favour. Really.
“Thanks, Von. I'm a little embarrassed.”
“Nonsense, darling. That's what I'm here for. Better you find out now rather than later.”
◆◆◆
I know she’s right. Damn it.
Why are all the hot ones taken?
I saunter down the hallway and hide in the supply room, shaking off the unmistakable vibe I felt from him when I touched his collar earlier.
Maybe I confused attraction with hostile resentment.
I distract myself by shuffling boxes of ink from shelf to shelf, folding the towels into neat stacks.
A bag of dry cleaning has split open on the floor.
I hang the items one by one on the back of the door.
Shirt. Pants.
My favourite green tie.
Emerging from the room, I make my way back to the catering table with bold confidence.
Time to get these people out of my studio.
I long to go home so I can curl up on the bed with my new book.
After a quick sign off and a mandatory handshake, I’ll soon be done with this whirlwind of misguided limerence.
Vonnie returns with tenderness in her eyes.
I do my best to look away.
But I need to know.
“Christ. What now?”
“Porter is smitten, I've seen it with my own eyes.”
“And why are you telling me this?” I sigh.
“Because I thought you might want to know for sure. And I have a name.”
“Look… I saw them before, Von. I know he and Marco are into each other. It's obvious. And like you said, it's none of my business.”
“Marco?” she laughs. “God no, that's ancient history. It's Deacon that your lover boy is swooning over.”
“Who the heck is Deacon?” I’m so confused. “And what are you on about? I'm not interested in Porter. I mean, he seems lovely. But no.”
“But I saw the way you were looking at him before. Like you wanted to ask him something. I just assumed…”
“He's not the one I have my eye on, Vonnie.” I smile at the absurdity of it all. “And what do you mean, that's ancient history?”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
And to my mild annoyance, there’s a hint of insecurity in my voice.
Vonnie’s eyes light up instantly.
Now the penny drops.
She raises a hand to her mouth.
I’m not sure if she’s about to laugh or shake some sense into me. Hopefully the latter.
“Oh,” she says, leaning in. Her voice hushes dramatically. “I have all the tea.”
She grabs my arm and leads me back to the supply room, away from the crowd.
◆◆◆
“Spill,” I beg.
“Okay, so I overheard them talking earlier. Marco and Porter used to be in some kind of situationship. A very long time ago. But not exactly boyfriends. More of a teen awakening.”
“A long time ago?” I repeat.
Hope rises softly in my chest as Vonnie continues.
“And Porter’s friend Deacon, the one in the kitchen, seems very keen on him. I think they’re an item. Or on the edge of becoming something more. They were very flirty and awkward around each other when I walked by.”
I process this information with growing interest.
Who cares? I tell myself. Why should you care?
But I do care.
More than I should.
He’s been with a man before.
He likes men.
And he might be single.
“Aren’t you just a little red haired fountain of knowledge?” I tease with a devious smile.
Vonnie always has my back. “So what you're saying is, sexy uptight Marco does date men?”
“Yeah, but not for a while apparently. He's kind of a workaholic, just like you.” She’s eating this up. “You really like him don't you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I try to downplay it, even though I see no point in hiding it from her. “Okay yes, I like him.”
When he walks into my studio looking like that and starts bossing me around?
Of course I like him.
My cheeks grow warm.
Vonnie gives me a playful shove.
“Just don’t get your heart broken this time.”
She wanders out the door again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
If Marco isn’t taken, that changes everything.
No girlfriend. No boyfriend.
At least as far as I can tell.
I find myself looking across the studio again.
But this time, I pay more attention to Marco’s lips.
The shape of them when he speaks.
The tension in his shoulders as he adjusts a layout diagram.
Precision. Control.
Let me undo you…
I need to know more.
He’s a bit of a mystery man.
Tightly wound.
But now I've seen a glimpse of what he looks like when he lets go, when he’s having fun.
I can think of several ways to help loosen him up.
Oh Jesus. He’s walking this way.
“Let’s run through the final schedule before we wrap up,” he sighs.
He’s back in corporate mode.
And he seems a little over it.
He wants to get the hell out of here.
Don’t leave yet, I think. Stay a little longer.
I try to behave, but stand a tad closer than necessary.
And he doesn’t shift away.
His voice wavers briefly when we hold eye contact.
There it is.
That spark I felt earlier.
He slides the final document toward me.
“I need you…” The pen drops to the floor and we both bend to retrieve it. “..to sign here.”
I pause, tracing the back of my hand lightly along his wrist.
That gorgeous man holds his ground.
Our mouths are merely inches apart.
“Looks good to me,” I whisper.
But I’m not looking at the document.
I’m looking at Marco.