He didn’t say anything about Wesley coming until two minutes before when he’d texted me to say he was outside with Miles, waiting for Grayson and Wesley, that they’d be right in. I tried to text Wesley to warn him, but the service was crap and I’d already locked eyes with Grayson by the time Wesley pulled out his phone.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Grayson greeted, eyes full of knowing. I tried to offer him a silent and pleading expression to keep our secret, which he only answered with a short and nondescript nod.
“What are the odds?” I choked out.
“I’m glad you came.” Hendrix clapped me awkwardly on the back and I forced myself to smile, to look comfortable. The vodka drink the owner had offered me upon my arrival had definitely helped to lubricate some of my nerves, but now it was a fine line of worrying if I would do or say something wrong. Something that would give Wesley and me away.
“Good to see you again, Colin.” Miles offered less of a greeting, still cordial, as he gently pushed Hendrix into the seat on the other side of the booth. I figured he was most likely jealous of my friendship with Hendrix, which was fair. I’d alleviate his concerns, but to do so I’d have to out Wesley—and myself—and I was nowhere near ready for that.
“In you go, kid.” Grayson urged Wesley into the booth beside me, and I wanted to thank him and curse him simultaneously.
Wesley’s movements were jerky as he situated himself on the seat, jumping when our thighs brushed, and only settling when Grayson sat beside him, giving him enough of a shove that our shoulders pressed together.
“Do you have enough room over there?” Hendrix asked, eyeing the proximity. “We can get a bigger table.”
“I’m fine,” Wesley said quickly, offering a tight smile. “It’s fine.”
Grayson leaned over Wesley, giving me a look I couldn’t make sense of. It wasn’t telling, but it was warning. He was fiercely protective of Wesley.
“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Grayson said, blinking slowly.
“Same.” I cleared my throat and raised my glass, finishing off the last of the extremely potent vodka.
“Is that spiritus?” Miles chuckled, asking Marzena as she brought a tray to the table.
“The best way for good conversation between friends,” she said.
“Friends,” Wesley muttered under his breath. I didn’t think anyone besides Grayson and I heard. He pouted down at his lap while we threw back the shots Marzena had brought, but when I let my hands fall below the table, I settled my finger against the outside of Wesley’s thigh.
He tensed and flipped his phone over in his hands, tapping the screen until our text message thread lit up. We both looked down at my hurried warning slash apology, and he made a distressed noise before setting his phone on the table, face down.
“Hope you don’t mind the last minute addition,” Hendrix said to his brother. “Colin didn’t have anything to do and I felt bad for him.”
I winced. “I don’t need sympathy, Hendrix, but thank you.”
“That’s not how I meant it.” Hendrix was quick to backpedal.
“Colin has friends,” Grayson said, the words measured. “He’s spent some time with Wesley recently.”
Wesley moved to cross his legs and instead slammed his heel down on the top of Grayson’s foot. Grayson grunted, bearing the pain with little effect.
“What?” he asked through gritted teeth. “It’strue.”
The emphasis on the last word wasn’t lost, and at its utterance, Wesley relaxed, but only slightly.
“Oh, you have?” Hendrix sounded interested. Miles rested his arm across the back of Hendrix’s shoulders, eyes focused softly on his boyfriend’s profile.
“We went out on his birthday,” Wesley said carefully. “And to the turtle races.”
“And he, of course, came to the housewarming party,” Grayson said. “So he’s seen the place.”
“How did you find out about the turtle races?” Miles asked.
“I asked Gray for something to do with a friend.”
“I didn’t even know it was a thing,” I said, trying to take some of the pressure off Wesley’s shoulders. I’d have to talk to him—or Grayson—later about the rest of the conversation. With all the secrets, we needed to be on the same page. In fact, maybe it was better if Wesley started to spend some time at my apartment sometimes. It wasn’t really fair to ask Grayson to keep track of all our subterfuge.
“I’m glad my little matchmaking worked,” Hendrix said with a pleased smile. Wesley stopped breathing, until Grayson returned the earlier stomp onto his foot. He sucked in a rough gasp and nodded quickly.
