Chapter 5 #2
They were trying to be friends.
Kissing your friends was generally discouraged.
A waiter brought over his new drink. Set it in front of him.
“Here’s the thing,” Seth drawled, the Southern edge back in his voice, and Ren was reminded, viscerally, of how much he’d wanted him the first time they’d ever met. “You don’t have to encourage them, because you look like . . . well, because you look like that.”
“Look like what?”
It was stupid to ask. It was probably the booze talking.
Seth chuckled under his breath. Sipped his own drink. “You know what you look like.”
“Yeah, but maybe I want to know what you think I look like,” Ren said flippantly.
Seth sighed.
Set his drink down with a click onto the table.
For a second, Ren thought he’d pushed too far. Before, every time they’d gotten to this point, they’d run right up against Seth’s ironclad self-control.
But this time, he didn’t walk away.
He didn’t tell Ren this was a bad idea.
“You look like the sun setting over the ocean, like the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains against the sky, like a fire crackling in the night, with the stars spread out above me.” Seth’s voice was solemn and earnest—but the fire he’d mentioned was burning in his eyes.
Ren’s fingers tightened on his glass. His mouth felt dry again, but he didn’t drink, because the booze was swirling through his system, erasing the part of him that kept echoing Seth’s own words.
This is a bad idea.
He cleared his throat. “That’s not . . . I didn’t expect that. The Blue Ridge Mountains?”
Seth looked almost embarrassed. “I grew up there, in Asheville. And sometimes the sky is so blue, and they’re so dark, you can’t look away.”
“That might be the most unique compliment I’ve ever received. And the stars?”
It was Seth’s turn to gulp his drink. And even though in the six months he’d been watching him, Ren didn’t think he’d ever seen him order a second, he lifted his finger to the waiter.
“They’re so bright, in the darkness.” Seth’s voice sounded short, nothing like the dreaminess that had infused it before.
It suddenly occurred to Ren that continuing to subject himself to this—subjecting Seth to this—was cruel and unusual punishment.
Why had he come over here again, when there were so many other people he could talk to?
“I don’t suppose we can really be friends,” Ren said with a regretful sigh.
Seth laughed, shocking and bright. “Did you really think we could?”
Ren lifted his glass, which to his surprise, was actually empty again. “Might’ve been the booze talking.”
The waiter arrived then, with two more drinks.
Ren really knew he should slow down. Especially if he kept standing here with Seth.
“Thanks,” Seth said to the waiter, sliding a bill across the table towards him. “And some food maybe?” He glanced up at Ren, who knew exactly what he wanted to try.
“The mushrooms,” he said decisively. “I heard the stuffed mushrooms were really good.”
The waiter tucked the money into a pocket. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said briskly.
Seth’s expression was brimming with amusement when he turned back to Ren. “Mushrooms?”
“Do you not like mushrooms?” Ren wondered.
If Seth didn’t like mushrooms, then yeah, dating him definitely would’ve been a disaster.
That was also probably the booze talking.
“I love mushrooms. Not as much as old-fashioneds, or fires under the stars,” Seth said, “but they’re pretty lovable.”
“We’ll see how lovable Ross’ are,” Ren said, leaning forward, his eyes meeting Seth’s. He ignored the clang of warning in the back of his head.
What were they doing?
Getting drunk together and sharing a plate of stuffed mushrooms?
Still not sleeping together?
Ren decided that it didn’t matter what they were doing, because he was enjoying himself.
And if the way Seth was smiling was any indication, he too was enjoying their time together.
But then he’d known it would be like this, hadn’t he?
Of course he had.
Ren pushed that thought aside with another long gulp of bourbon.
“If Ross’ mushrooms are like his fried chicken . . .” Seth’s voice was worshipful, and Ren was surprised at the jealousy that flared deep.
He didn’t have a great poker face at the best of times, but after two and a half drinks, strong drinks, Ren could only imagine how transparent he looked.
Seth grinned. Like he’d read the thoughts right off his expression. “He’s from South Carolina. It’s a little like coming home, to eat his food,” he said. “But don’t worry, I like yours plenty.”
“What’s your favorite?”
Even though Ren already knew.
He knew every single thing Seth had ever ordered from the truck.
Creepy? Or observant? Ren wasn’t sure which it was, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.
“I think I’m pretty partial to the Thai meatball crunch wrap,” Seth said casually. Like he couldn’t get the exact same thing at Sean’s truck—but he never had.
He’d always come to Ren and Gabe’s truck, and he’d always ordered the same thing he’d ordered that first day.
Nostalgia? Blind hope that the outcome might change? The fact that the wrap was actually delicious?
Ren wasn’t sure which reason it was—or maybe it was a combination of all three.
“That’s a good one,” Ren said.
The waiter appeared then, with the plate of mushrooms.
They looked standard. Ren stared at them a little closer, dipping his head. “They look . . . they look like stuffed mushrooms?” he questioned, confused.
Seth smiled again. “Were they not supposed to look like stuffed mushrooms?”
“They were. But it’s Ross. He’s . . . well, you know how he’s apparently a genius.”
The liquor flowing through his system had apparently also decimated his brain-to-mouth filter, and that bitterness he tried to ignore and tried to forget was unmistakable.
“And you’re not?”
“I . . .” Fuck it, Ren decided, and picked up a mushroom, putting the whole thing in his mouth.
It was just like Ross, to make a stuffed mushroom that looked just like every other stuffed mushroom on earth, but that tasted like a flavor explosion.
“You’re really good at what you do, too,” Seth said.
“Goddamnit,” Ren exclaimed after he’d chewed and swallowed, heat still lingering on his tongue. “He is such a fucker.”
“Ross? I guess he pulled off a miracle, after all?”
“There’s chorizo in there, it’s spicy, and it’s . . . well, I’m not sure what else, but it’s delicious. I think that’s Manchego, too, and not mozzarella.”
“What’s Manchego?”
“Spanish cheese. Spanish chorizo, too, I think, and some kind of spicy . . . well, whatever it is, yeah, he’s brilliant.” Ren rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t love him, I’d hate him.”
“Opposite sides of the same coin,” Seth said, picking up a mushroom. “Love and hate, they’re both forms of obsession.”
Maybe, Ren thought as he sipped his drink, he hadn’t been crushing on Seth—past tense, because he had Jake now; Jake, who he hadn’t thought about in at least an hour, now—maybe he’d been obsessed.
Maybe it had been mutual.
Maybe it was still mutual.
“But,” Seth continued, “going back to the genius thing. Do you really think you’re not as talented as Ross?”
“Or Gabe?” Ren retorted. “Gabe sure thinks he’s the genius.”
Seth’s eyes went wide and he set his drink—mostly drunk now, Ren realized; he wasn’t the only one who was feeling the effects of the bourbon—down. “You do not fucking believe that.”
“No, but Gabriel believes that,” Ren complained. “We both wanted to get out of the rut, right? We were bored, and so we did whatever we wanted, and okay, maybe he’s right, some of the stuff we make doesn’t sell as well. But that doesn’t mean we should just give it up.”
“Is that why you and Gabriel are fighting?” Seth asked.
How did he know that?
It was infuriating, and a little bit flattering.
Okay, a lot flattering.
At least if Ren was using the arousal burning in the base of his stomach as a measure.
“How did you know we’re fighting?”
Seth rolled his eyes. “You two are normally inseparable. You walked in and you were . . . on different wavelengths tonight. Maybe not everyone would’ve noticed. I bet nobody else did notice.”
Ren leaned forward. This close, he could pick out every shade of gray and green in Seth’s eyes. “But you noticed.”
“I notice a lot of things . . .” He trailed off, not quite finishing the sentence.
But did he have to?
Ren already knew what he’d meant to say, before he’d decided it was a terrible idea.
I notice a lot of things about you.
The liquid in the glass in front of him had already begun to loosen his tongue, but the cumulative effect of this conversation finished the job.
“I knew about the wrap,” he said. “That it was your favorite.”
Seth raised an eyebrow.
“I notice a lot of things about you, too,” Ren said, after deciding, what did it matter if Seth knew?
Their self-control was shot. Maybe this was the night it would finally happen, and then this obsession would end forever.
Just in time for him to move on with Jake.
Seth swirled the remaining bourbon in his glass. “These are pretty strong, aren’t they?” he asked wryly. Even though he clearly knew the answer to that particular question.
“Yeah,” Ren agreed. “Let’s have another round.”
Seth popped another mushroom in his mouth. “Is that a good idea?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of considering only good ideas,” Ren said conspiratorially.
Even though he wasn’t exactly the poster child for smart, reasoned decisions.
But Seth? That guy was brimming with them.
Seth’s expression was thoughtful—too thoughtful—as he finished his drink.
He was still thinking. And Ren? Well, he was never good with thinking with anything but his dick, but his dick was definitely making decisions right now.
Shrugging off his jacket and setting it on the back of a nearby chair, Ren leaned forward. He knew how good he looked.
From the way Seth’s pupils dilated, he knew, too.
“What’s the last good idea you had?” Seth asked, his voice low, teasing.
“A week ago, when I thought we should have sex,” Ren said.
“And you still think we should?”
“Well, duh,” Ren said, chuckling. “Am I dead? Of course I want to have sex with you.”
Seth looked surprised; which was strange. How could he have thought that Ren didn’t want him anymore?
“But . . . aren’t you pissed off at me?”
“For saying no? If I was pissed off, I wouldn’t have come over, would I?”
Seth blinked hard. “Okay, fair enough.”
“Now,” Ren said, “let’s get another round.”