He closed his eyes, trying to imagine a life where that much money warranted a celebration, and shook himself free of it after the car pulled alongside the curb. He tipped the driver and trudged up to Callahan’s front door. Sebastian pasted a reasonable smile on his face and tried the knob, finding it open.
The gathering wasn’t so much a party, just a smattering of people who looked to be friends of Jace and Remington. Sebastian only recognized a couple faces, and instead of finding Remington, he found himself pulled into the corner where Jace leaned against a wall, surveying the guests.
“You made it.” Jace smiled in greeting.
“Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Jace shrugged. “Didn’t think academia was your scene.”
“Is it yours?”
“That’s fair. Did you want a drink? We have vodka.” Jace thumbed toward the kitchen and pushed off the wall. Sebastian followed him without an answer.
“Wine is fine,” he said after Jace reached for a half empty bottle of liquor.
“You sure?”
He nodded. “I’ve been drinking it all day, no reason to chance it now.”
“I thought you’d slowed down with that.” Jace poured him a glass of some generic smelling Malbec.
“I’ve been talking to someone online. A man.”
“Good segue.” Jace laughed.
“Good word.” Remington’s voice came from behind him, and Sebastian straightened, his traitorous body on full alert.
“I learned from the best.”
Remington stepped around him, inserting himself between Jace and Sebastian. He glanced down at the wine in Sebastian’s hand.
“Wine? I made sure Callahan got vodka for you,” Remington said.
“Vodka’s boring, isn’t it?” he rasped, clearing his throat.
Remington’s lip twitched and he tilted his head to the side, giving Sebastian another one of those weighted stares.
“I’m going to go find Callahan,” Jace said, but neither of them looked his way. “Play nice.”
“I’m nice,” they said in unison, and Sebastian looked down at his wine.
Jace wandered off and a silence settled. Sebastian could hear the sounds of the party, the clanking of glasses, low and nondescript music in the background that didn’t intrude over conversation, but loudest of all, the thudding of his heart against his chest.
He felt out of sorts, shocked at the way Remington’s mere presence had unmanned him. Was it because he’d been thinking about Allan half the day? Because he’d been drinking? Was it because of Remington’s godforsakenly perfect fingers? His mouth?
“So you’ve met someone?” Remington asked, his voice casual.
“Kind of,” he answered.
“Online?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s going to go anywhere,” Sebastian said. “I don’t think the online thing is for me.”
“It has its struggles,” Remington agreed. “There’s something to be said about being with a person face to face.”
“Oh?”
The look on Remington’s face was going to murder him in his best friend’s kitchen. He would drop on the spot, stain his pants with twenty dollar Malbec, and die with an embarrassing semi.
