Sam sighed and put his fork down, biting his lip.“No.I just like to read them.If anything, theykeepme from writing.”
“So that’s not what you want to write?”
Sam shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of wine.Ian had a drink of some beer, thinking.“I know you’re getting something out of it,” he finally said.“You like them, but you also ...study them, right?”
Sam gaped at him.“How’d you know that?”
Ian smiled instead of answering.He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.
Sam took a deep breath.“Well ...”He paused, inspecting Ian, probably to see if he really cared.
Shockingly, Ian did.He tried to look interested and encouraging, but since he’d never tried either of those expressions before, he had no clue if it worked.Something did, though.
“It’s like, in romance novels, you always have two plots.There’s the relationship plotline, and then there’s a second story arc, you know?”Sam looked at him.
Ian nodded, just as if he did actually know.Hell, this showing interest thing was easy.
“Pretty much, you always know what’s going to happen in the relationship plotline.But the oth—”
“Wait, if you know what’s going to happen, why read it?’
Sam shrugged.“To find outhowit happens.”
“I don’t get it.”Ian picked up his beer again and took a drink.“Who cares how it happens?It happens; that’s it.Knowing ruins the ending.”Sam looked downright affronted.Ian had to hide his smile by taking another sip.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Sam said, shaking his head.Ian waited for him to saywhatwas so sad, but he sighed and looked down at his salad, carefully selecting his next bite.
“Fine, I’ll ask.What’s so sad?”
Sam looked at him with wide eyes.“You’re one of those people who don’t enjoy life, aren’t you?You just work toward the next goal you set for yourself, never thinking about how you get there, only satisfied by reaching it.And when you don’t reach it, you feel a sense of failure, right?Oh Ian, that explains so much about you.”
What?He could only stare.
Sam burst out laughing, and it took Ian a few seconds to put it all together.Sam wasgiving him shit.That was just ...beyond cute.It wasdarling.
“Oh my God,” he muttered, dropping his head in his palm.Darling.This was way out of hand.Next thing he knew, he’d be calling Sam “kitten” or something.It was enough to put him off his salad.But he found himself smiling by the time Sam sputtered to a grinning stop.
They argued about whether knowing the ending of the story ruined it or not right through dessert.Sam tried to relate it to rugby, but since he didn’t know anything about the sport—and Ian refused to help him—he ended up saying only, “You don’t just play the game to win, right?You also play toplay.”
Which made total sense, but Ian refused to admit it.He couldn’t kill his grin though, even as he argued right up until Sam gave in, throwing a piece of bread at Ian and then blushing furiously, looking around to see if anyone had seen.
It was so cute, Ian laughed.Fuck it, Samwasdarling.That didn’t mean anyone had to know Ian thought that.As long as he never slipped and used the name—or any other similar term of endearment—he’d be golden.
“Okay, kiddo, you ready to get out of here?”
Sam smiled up at him.“Thank you.”Then he stood, giving Ian a few necessary seconds to recover from the wattage of the kid’s gratitude.
Weird how, on a real date, all he really needed to get out of it was making Sam happy.
Dinner had been so easy—well, eventually—and this silence was anything but.Sam didn’t like it.He was supposed to feel comfortable with quiet between them, but he had to clamp his teeth together to keep from babbling nervously while Ian parked the truck in a guest spot at Sam’s apartment building.
And actually, the night hadn’t been comfortable so much as exciting and fun andomigodIan was turning off the engine.Sam froze like a scared rabbit, staring out the windshield with all his might.
“Do you want to come over to my place tonight?”Ian asked, and Sam nearly jumped.Well, he might have a little.Hopefully Ian wouldn’t notice, but it would be hard not to since there were parking lot lights everywhere and the whole cab of Ian’s pickup was bathed in that sort of orangey color of the kind of lights that they put in parking lots—
“Sam?”
Deep breath.What waswrongwith him?He’d had sex with this guy.Why was this so different?
