Aidan picked up his phone. Typed a few things. Dawson felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. “There you go, I’d say be safe with them, but . . .”
“But what, now lecturing me and the rook about safe sex is too much?” Dawson snorted. “It’s ironic, that’s what it is.”
But the way Aidan looked at him, like he could see right into Dawson’s mind and knew everything Dawson was not thinking about, was galling.
“Ugh, you’re the worst,” Dawson complained as he pulled his phone out. Checked the list. And yep, despite his general obnoxiousness as a friend, he could count on Aidan for the best spots to visit in the city.
“You’re welcome,” Aidan said, and he actually had the nerve to laugh about it.
Cam chose that moment to come over to the table, sandwich in one hand and two bottles of Gatorade in the other. He set one of them—Dawson’s favorite flavor, blue—in front of him and settled down next to Dawson, hand on his knee as he unwrapped his sandwich with the other.
Aidan just raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Daws was just grabbing some more dinner recommendations for you two,” he said.
Dawson was afraid for a split second that Aidan might say more. Might divulge everything he’d just been lecturing Dawson about, therefore not just opening Dawson’s third eye, but Cam’s as well. But Aidan didn’t say anything,thank God. He’d known he didn’t want anything to change, but even imagining the possibility of it made him squirm in his seat.
“How do you feel about Lebanese?” Dawson said.
“Oh!” Cam exclaimed between bites of sandwich. “I don’t know. Not yet anyway. But I’m excited to find out.”
“Good,” Dawson said smugly. “We’ll go there tonight.”
Cam smiled at him, slow and intimate and the warmth that bloomed in Dawson’s stomach made it surprisingly easy to push away everything Aidan had just been saying. What did he know anyway? This was a guy who’d never really dated anyone—who’d barely even hooked up with anyone—until he was in his thirties. He was clueless. Dawson and Cam were fine.Betterthan fine.
Turned out that Cam was a huge fan of Lebanese.
He devoured the first set of kabobs the waiter brought and it hadn’t even been a question for Dawson to order more as he tangled his feet under the table with Cam’s.
“This is fucking delicious,” Cam said, shoveling another bite of saffron rice and chicken into his mouth.
“Good,” Dawson said.
Cam glanced up at him. “You’re not really eating.”
“I am,” Dawson said, but he wasn’t really. He was too busy thinking. Too busy watching Cam when he didn’t think he was being observed.
Tilting his head, Cam examined his face, an intent expression that shouldn’t have made Dawson nervous, but did, anyway.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
Cam set down his fork, which really said a lot. “Come on, Daws,” he entreated. “You’ve been distracted all dinner. The food’s good and I like to think the company’s up to par—”
“It is,” Dawson reassured him immediately. He wasn’t thinking about what Aidan had said earlier. Well, he was deliberatelynotthinking about it. But he’d gone out of his way to do something else, right before they left the practice facility, and it was making him additionally nervy. He’d considered puttingit off after the conversation with Aidan, but he’d put it off long enough, and he couldn’t do it anymore.
It hadn’t been hard to find the name of the prosecutor on the paperwork. Or very hard to dial up the office and let his name do all the talking.
The person he’d talked to had reassured him that he’d hear from the prosecutor.
Now all he had to do was wait.
Which . . .turned out that was the hard part.
“Then what’s up?” Cam asked, crease appearing between his brows. And that wasn’t allowed. Dawson would confess to just about anything just to take that look off Cam’s face.
“You know how you told me I needed to find out for myself what was really going on with the Ackerman case?”
Cam nodded.
