Chapter 4 #2
Hearing Clarke use the same term of endearment Daniel had called Jensen had anger flaring up hot inside him.
With a choke hold on the bottle, he turned around abruptly, determined not to let Jensen out of his sight for more than a second for the rest of his shift.
He worried if he wasn’t within Jensen’s field of vision, one of the assholes he called coworkers would whisk him away and make him forget all about Daniel.
He didn’t want to sabotage anyone’s paycheck that night, but Jensen was his.
Daniel didn’t want him talking about architecture or crown molding or wall sconces with anyone else.
“No, thank you. I’m only here to have a drink and work on my notes. My mother always said only alcoholics drink alone, hence why I’m here and not in my room. Though, I don’t think that’s true at all. She drinks alone in the kitchen pantry every time my grandma comes to visit.”
Clarke looked thrown for a moment, one Daniel enjoyed immensely. “Maybe you could tell me about your notes. I’m a great listener.”
“No.” Jensen took a sip of the drink Daniel put in front of him. “Oh, that’s good. But no, thank you, I’m worn out on the general public today.”
“General public?” Clarke asked, looking affronted.
Jensen shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose. “It’s not derogatory. You, as a stranger, are part of the amorphous general public to me. Which I have spent too much time talking with today.”
“Clarke,” Daniel said. “Maybe it’d be best to wait and see who else shows up?”
Clarke stood, looking like he was chewing glass, and stalked off to where a few of their other coworkers were chatting at a table. Daniel watched him go before turning his attention back to Jensen.
“Did you want me to give you some space?” Daniel had never wanted to be told no so badly. He desperately needed Jensen to say no. He needed it like a brat begging for attention. Daniel wasn’t going to survive this shift if he had to watch Jensen from afar and hope no one caught his attention.
Jensen shook his head but kept his gaze firmly on the notebook open next to his drink. “No, that’s not necessary. Your presence doesn’t exhaust me. Quite the opposite actually. I felt so exhilarated from our time together that I was finally able to figure out the office conundrum.”
Daniel’s heart thumped heavily in his chest. Fuck, he was blushing too.
He hadn’t blushed like a fucking besotted bride since he was a tween.
Not a single thing said to him in the walls of the hotel had made his cheeks flame.
And he’d heard a lot of things that would embarrass a man much grislier than himself.
Hell, his stories had shocked Casey a time or two, and he starred in porn that veered past conventional at times.
But here Daniel was, face heating and ready to start carving his and Jensen’s initials into trees over a passing compliment.
“And was the workroom spared?” he asked, surprised he actually cared about the answer.
“Oh yes.” Jensen looked up and adjusted his glass. “The bathroom too. I moved one of the conference rooms to the other side and reduced the open area near the stairs.”
If he thought Jensen would appreciate it, he’d slap him on the back. “Good shit,” he said with a smile. “What are these notes on, then?” Daniel barely stopped himself from sticking his tongue out at Clarke after he asked the question.
“The conference,” Jensen said simply before turning his attention back to the paper. “I’ve been writing down the aspects of panels and presenters I didn’t like.”
With a hand over his mouth, Daniel let out a loud laugh.
“You’re writing critiques? Are you going to email them with a report card?
” He could definitely see Jensen doing that.
And suddenly, Daniel wanted to receive a rating of his own for their interactions.
He was dying to know what Jensen thought of him.
But if he had anything bad to say, Daniel’s ego might not survive it.
It was silly to put such stock in a near stranger’s opinion, but he couldn’t stop himself from caring.
Jensen shook his head as he flipped through the book. “Of course not. There’s a survey sent out after the conference where I’ll provide my feedback. It would be superfluous to also send an email.”
“Right, you wouldn’t want to be superfluous.” Daniel’s cheeks were going to start hurting soon with how wide he was smiling. “Why the notes, then?”
“I’ll be giving the keynote tomorrow, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.
I’d rather learn from my peers’ follies.
” He looked up at Daniel’s part-surprised and part-confused expression.
“Oh, a keynote is a speech that, in essence, sets the tone for the conference. Similar to how it does in music. It encapsulates the theme of this year and what the U.S. architectural committee believes is the next trend.”
“I know what a keynote is, Jensen. I’m just surprised you’re the one giving it.” As the words left his mouth, he realized how awful that sounded. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jensen raised his hand. “Oh no, it’s completely ill-advised. I said no multiple times, but my boss insisted. He threatened to put me on remodels if I didn’t agree.”
“And remodels are bad?”
“Sacrilegious more like. Remodels take old buildings with character and life and ruin them.” Jensen leaned in, like they were conspiring.
“Two years ago, a bank bought out an office that was built in the thirties. The outside was incredible, and even though the ceilings were quite low, the interior was stunning. I was in a bad way with my boss, and he forced me to work on the account to destroy the exterior and renovate everything. It’s now a glass and smooth stone clone. ”
Daniel wanted to laugh at the disgust on Jensen’s face, but he didn’t want him to think he was laughing at him.
His outrage was adorable though. Endearing even.
Daniel couldn’t remember the last time he was so passionately angered about something.
Maybe when Lucinda switched out the flavored lube to banana.
“Okay, but back to the conference. You’re giving the keynote? ”
“Unfortunately. I find myself one of the experts in next generation modern, and that is this year’s travesty of a theme.”
“Did you just say you were an expert in modern? What about—” Daniel waved his hand around, gesturing to the very not modern bar.
“It’s my biggest regret,” Jensen said morosely. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, but it seems like the gentleman down the bar wants a drink.”
Daniel blinked, and like a veil had been lifted, the rest of the room came back into focus.
Instrumental music played from the hidden speakers; the faint smell of cigars hung in the air from decades of smoke; a woman laughed, and one of his coworkers joined in.
Three other people sat at the bar, one impatiently trying to get his attention.
Daniel hadn’t even noticed them. He hadn’t noticed anyone entering the room since Jensen walked in, head in the clouds.
“I’ll be back,” he promised before hustling down the glossy surface that had the memories of a hundred years of scuffs and spills soaked into it.
He thought of Jensen as he made and served the customer’s drink.
He could barely spare an eye for the liquor he poured.
All he wanted was to go back and talk to him, but like serving one person opened the floodgates, he took another order.
And another one. And another one as the Friday night rush settled in.
He barely had enough time to run tabs between each glass he handed over to the patrons that were getting tipsier and tipsier.
Finally, there was a lull after he’d dropped off a round of shots to the table Melanie was entertaining. Daniel ran a hand through his hair and nearly jogged back to the bar, hoping to get a word in with Jensen before the next person called for him.
His gaze frantically searched the stools, a thread of something that felt like fear tugging at his heart.
Jensen wasn’t there; the seat he’d occupied was now empty.
With a deep breath and disappointment pooling in his stomach, Daniel put the abandoned scotch glass in the tray under the bar and picked up the folded bill that was stuck under it.
The cash clasped in a tight fist, he held it to his chest and stared at the archway Jensen must have escaped out of while Daniel was busy.
If he hadn’t been tending the bar and instead been looking for company, would the night have ended with him holding Jensen’s money still? Would they have talked before heading up to the room? Or would Jensen have waved him off and forced Daniel to act interested in someone else?
God. Why did it even matter? It shouldn’t matter.
Jensen didn’t even know him. They weren’t friends.
They certainly weren’t lovers. Daniel didn’t have room in his life for romance or dating.
At most, they were two ships passing in the night.
Swallowing down his emotions, he closed Jensen’s tab and pocketed the tip.
They had only talked a couple of times and probably wouldn’t cross paths after the weekend was over.
He had more important things to worry about than if Jensen thought he was worthy of his time and money.
But if he was honest, Daniel wanted Jensen to come back down.
He wanted Jensen to sit at the bar and beg him to spend the night.
He wanted to be wanted by someone that didn’t see him as the confident and flirty hooker but a person that was worthy of a real, deep conversation.
Someone that would spend an early dinner with no suffocating expectation of sex right after.
Someone that wouldn’t want a put-on veneer meant to be agreeable. And he wanted that person to be Jensen.
When had he become such a tired cliché?