“It’s a liberal arts college!”
They share a good laugh just as Greg materializes beside them. “What are you two cackling about?”
Greg looks exceptionally good tonight. He’s wearing this midnight blue button-down with the top couple buttons undone, giving a free peek at his well-groomed chest hair. He smells fresh and clean, but Julien notices he isn’t wearing any of the signature aftershave he’s seen on Greg’s bathroom counter. He has mentioned that some scents trigger his OCD; that’s probably why Greg has stopped using it, which may just be a piece of evidence in Jessica’s case.
“You had to be there,” Jessica says. “The countdown is coming up soon. As the DJ’s number one groupie, it’s time to take my place up there beside him. See you guys later.” She dips into the crowd that’s partying the night away beneath dim lights.
Julien’s heart grows louder than the music.
GREG
Greg’s hands are slick with nerves.
Kissing Julien while they fuck is one thing. Kissing Julien in their place of employment is another. Julien said there were no rules in Martin’s Place about employees dating other employees. He can at least rest easy that he’s not going to be fired for entertaining such a fantasy, but still.
He accepts the glass of chilled water Julien hands him, and it nearly slips right out of his grasp. Thankfully, he catches it before it hits the floor, only spilling slightly, which he cleans up right away, so nobody falls.
“Everything okay?” Julien asks. There’s an unnatural note to Julien’s question, a crack Greg has never heard before. Is this what Julien sounds like when he’s nervous? Why would he be nervous? Maybe Jessica said something. She’s not the best with secrets, which raises a major red flag when it comes to her patient confidentiality once she becomes a psychologist.
“Of course. Everything is fantastic.” Greg busies his mouth by sipping his water, glancing out at the crowd. He hates that he’s lying. Well, notlying, but stretching the truth. Nothing is fantastic right now, but it will be if he gets the midnight kiss he’s been craving, going on about.
Poor Rufus probably wasn’t expecting such a lovesick roommate. In truth, Greg wasn’t expecting this himself. The burns Stryker left behind still stung when he arrived in Allentown. Falling for the curmudgeonly king of wine wasn’t on Greg’s agenda, and yet...
And yet he has. And yet Julien isn’t so curmudgeonly after all. And yet Julien is standing in front of him, wearing a formfitting turtleneck, holding an empty water glass, waiting for Greg to say something, only Greg has completely missed the question.
“I’m sorry. Did you say something?” A light line of sweat arises on the nape of Greg’s neck. The restaurant is swarmed with bodies, and the heat is on. Good thing he thought to wear an undershirt beneath this thin stretchy button-down, otherwise he’d be stain-central.
Julien furrows his brow. “Really, what’s going on with you?”
“Would you like to dance?” Greg asks, deflecting. If he can just get Julien out on the dance floor, if he can get his body moving and out of his head, maybe he can make this happen for them both.
Julien scratches his neck. “I don’t really dance.”
“Don’t or won’t?” Greg asks because he needs this. Desperately. He needs a moment of movement, of release, to shed the worry rising inside his gut over whether to go through with this, even though he wants to. He so, so wants to.
“Can’t,” Julien corrects himself. “I don’t have an ear for this kind of music or a body that responds very well.”
“Counter—your body is quite responsive,” Greg says, overriding his nerves with sultry jokes.
Julien flushes. Even in the half light, it’s obvious. “Different context.”
“Guess I’ve never asked,” Greg says. “What kind of music do you like?”
“Classical, mostly.”
“Who’s your favorite composer?”
Julien’s thinking face is beyond adorable—eyes shifted up and to the left, mouth a tight pull. “Tchaikovsky.”
Greg soaks that in, nodding with approval even though he wouldn’t know Tchaikovsky from Mozart from Stravinsky. “Okay. Be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I know the DJ, remember?” Greg doesn’t wait for Julien to protest. He beelines for Rufus.
Jessica bops her head behind him, eyes closed, mouthing the lyrics to a Cardi B song. Rufus releases one ear from the padded prisons of his overly large headphones when Greg taps him on the shoulder.
“This is incredible!” Rufus cheers. He’s all shimmery from the glittery makeup Jessica put on him so he matched her dress. It looked great in the photos they took earlier. It looks even better in person. “Thanks for this! I’m having a blast.”
