“Do you sustain the arts?” Remington asked.
Sebastian raised his wine to his mouth, dragging the rim of the glass across his bottom lip in a move so seductive, Jace had to look away from it.
“I try,” he answered.
“Remington works with books,” Jace interjected.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Right,” Remington answered. “I have my doctorate and I’m an archivist at the California Museum of Literary Arts.”
At the mention of the museum, Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, and Jace turned to Callahan, who was watching the whole exchange intently.
“Hey,” he said, kicking the side of Callahan’s foot beneath the table.
“Hey.” Callahan smiled, stretching his arm across the table, palm up. Jace slid their hands together and allowed himself time to enjoy the moment. The way the lighting of the table top candles reflected off the silverware and the glasses, the way Callahan had the finest looking fingers he’d ever seen…
He turned their hands over and studied the shape and detail of Callahan’s hand, thinking about the pictures he wanted to take after dinner when they found themselves alone again. The ideas quickly turned lewd, and he straightened himself, adjusting his weight in the chair to shift the pressure off his balls and cock.
“Everything okay?” Callahan asked.
“Just thinking about your hands,” he admitted.
“What about them?” Callahan leaned closer.
“Nothing we can talk about here.”
“They’re not listening.” Callahan jerked his head toward the side of the table where Remington and Sebastian were engaged in conversation about things Jace would never understand.
“I hear everything,” Sebastian said without missing a beat, then he returned his attention to Remington.
Jace pulled away, taking his hand with him and shoving it under the table. He felt out of sorts now and embarrassed, fighting back feelings of inadequacy that he’d done his best at avoiding since their trip. He’d never be able to keep up with men like Callahan and Sebastian, and the longer he lied to himself, the more it would hurt in the end.
“Are you looking forward to later?” Callahan asked, thankfully not noticing the change in Jace’s demeanor.
“So much,” he answered honestly.
“I know you said before that sleeping was more intimate than sex.” Callahan’s voice was low and it barely carried over the noise of the restaurant around them. “And while I see why you think that, I don’t think anything is more intimate than what you want to do tonight.”
Callahan’s words made Jace want to rethink the entire plan. He could just take some pictures of himself like he’d done in the past. After all, those pictures were the ones that caught the eyes of the gallery owners.
“We don’t need to do it,” he said quickly.
“Yes, we do,” Callahan said. “I want to. With you.”
Callahan’s answer felt heavier than the words should have on their own, and Jace worried that had been Callahan’s intent. Things had moved so quickly the past two weeks, and Jace hadn’t done anything to discourage it. Maybe he should have, but he’d been so wrapped up in Callahan’s attention and affection, he’d spent every moment he could in the other man’s bed. He’d left clothes, and soap, and condoms in Callahan’s apartment, and he closed his eyes, trying to not think about how he’d get it all back.
The waitress appeared again and set four matching plates down in front of them, and Jace knew immediately what kind of restaurant they were in. One of those places with the set menu that changed nightly. The one where you were given what the chef wanted you to have and nothing more, nothing less. This was the life Callahan and Sebastian were born for, and Jace glanced at Remington, finding he even fit in, knowing which fork and which spoon, and…
Jace scooped the contents of the plate onto his fork, the entire serving only being a single bite, and he shoved it into his mouth before he could say something regrettable. It was delicious, because everything in Callahan’s life was better than anything Jace had ever had. He chewed and swallowed, and rinsed it down with a drink of wine worth forty dollars.
“Jace.”
Callahan’s voice pulled him out of his head, and Jace smiled, setting his fork down on his plate. He looked up at his boyfriend—his very real, very good boyfriend, and he arched an eyebrow in wait.
“Callahan,” he answered back.
Callahan licked his lips, then pulled the inside of his cheek between his teeth. Jace could see the way his cheek hollowed as he worried himself on the other side of the table. This couldn’t be good. But it was, after all, expected.
