There wasn’t so much an expectation that Callahan only involved himself with people of a certain financial level of success, and even if there was, he wouldn’t adhere to it. But bringing in someone who wasn’t familiar with the venom of a WASPy social soiree was cruel. Especially if he was trying to prove a point, which he was.
“You need to have some faith in others,” Sebastian chided.
“Well, I don’t.”
Callahan had been let down enough to know better than to go into any kind of relationship, romantic, friendly—or fake—with any real expectations.
He knew better.
“You need to be open to this,” Sebastian said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He glared at the screen and set it on the table, face down. “Or it’s not going to work. This guy, Jace, he’s really hot, Callahan. Rhys is going to gag for it when he sees you with him.”
“Rhys is going to know that it’s a setup. If he’s really so hot, there’s no way I could score with someone that out of my league.”
“Shut up. You’re a really good looking guy, and you’re smarter than almost anyone I know.” Sebastian’s phone vibrated, clattering around. He flipped it over, looked at the screen, then set it back down. “Plus you’re loaded. It’s believable.”
“Are you going to give me his phone number then?” Callahan asked. “I’ll need to have Blanche book him a room and sort out the car and everything if this is happening.”
“You know he has to share your room, right?” Sebastian arched a mischievous eyebrow.
“What? Absolutely not!”
“There’s no way you can pretend you’re involved with someone if you’re going to have separate hotel rooms.”
He hated to admit Sebastian was right.
“Then I’ll have Blanche call and switch to a two bedroom suite.”
“God, you really are a rich bastard.” Sebastian laughed. “Add an extra bedroom to the hotel suite. Why don’t you just upgrade to the penthouse?”
“I might, you ass.” Callahan scrubbed his hands down his face. “Can you please just give me his phone number so I can sort this all out before it’s time to leave?”
“Fine.” Sebastian reached for his phone and glared at the screen again. He tapped out a message, and Callahan watched him try to navigate around the screen as chat bubble after chat bubble popped up, blocking his fingers. “Jesus fuck.”
“Everything okay?”
“I’ve gotta…” Sebastian paused and frowned, lines etching so deep around his eyes Callahan could see them in the neon light of the club. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll send you and Blanche his stuff. I promise. I’m sorry.”
“It’s…it’s fine. Let me know if you need anything.”
Sebastian was gone before he’d even finished his thought, and Callahan leaned back with a frown, staring at the half drank beer in front of him. He’d put on nice pants and come all the way downtown for Sebastian to pound a beer and leave him hanging. It was not the Friday night he’d planned for when he’d gotten home from work.
He wanted to be home, in his sweats with his cider, and a good horror movie on the TV. Then he wanted to jack off in the shower, go to sleep, and not wake up before eight the next day. God, it would be nice to sleep in.
Callahan grabbed his beer and stood. His hip cracked, and he ignored it, scanning the club looking for the bathroom. It had been so long since he’d been out, he didn’t remember the lay of the land, but his eyes found the sign in the far back corner, so he headed that way. He’d finish his beer, take a piss, then go home and live his best life.
Not surprisingly, there was a line for the bathroom and he found himself in it, pressed up against a terribly attractive man with messy hair and eyes that looked like molten trouble. Neither of them said anything. The man stood taller than Callahan, but thinner, and he dragged his eyes across every line and curve of Callahan’s face like he was a dessert he’d been waiting his entire life for.
The appraisal had Callahan feeling a little swoony, and he lost his balance—damn weak knees—tumbling into the wall. The man reached out quickly, grabbing Callahan’s arms and righting him again.
“You all right?” he asked.
Callahan swallowed and managed a nod.
“Oh,” the man said, looking over his shoulder, “looks like we’re up.”
Warm fingers danced down Callahan’s bare arm and over the top of his hand. The stranger threaded their fingers together and pulled Callahan into the bathroom. His heart slammed against his chest and his beer slipped out of his other hand, landing against the floor with a crash.
“Shit.”
