“You enjoying the wedding, Pete?”
“Yeah, it’s been great. Really lovely.”
“It’s too bad Charlotte couldn’t make it,” Doug said.
“Is Charlotte the wife?” Carver said, and Pete gave him the tiniest nod possible. “Yeah, that’s too bad, I would have liked to meet her.”
Pete gave him a tight smile. “So you’re Doug’s middle kid? How old does that make you?” He already knew the answer, of course.
“He’s thirty-five,” Doug said. “And he’s already a managing director at work.”
“Thirty-six, Dad.”
“Right.”
“Wow,” Pete said. “Thirty-six. You don’t look it. Yet.”
“Uh-huh.”
While Doug was distracted saying hello to some passing woman who Carver didn’t recognize, Pete mouthed, “Tick tock, twink.” Carver blew him a kiss.
Doug turned back to them, none the wiser.
“Good to see you, Dad,” Carver said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”
“Alrighty,” Doug said, sipping his scotch.
Carver continued on with his original mission of going to the balcony to score a cigarette, then ran into a waiter who offered him a flute of champagne, which he accepted gratefully. As he stepped outside, he saw a tall male figure leaned up against the railing, smoking. A split second later he realized the figure was Scott.
Scott turned his head and spotted him back. He exhaled smoke. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Carver said, his stomach fluttering. “Can I bum one?”
“Yeah.”
Carver made his way over to him, trying not to look drunk. He was, though, and his inhibitions were sinking out of sight. Despite everything, he was thrilled to see him out here, thrilled in a teenage way. It was the way he’d felt when the bell over the door at Max’s rang and Scott walked in.
Scott held out a cigarette for Carver, who opened his mouth instead of lifting his right hand, which was holding the glass of champagne. Scott chuckled and placed it between his lips, then leaned in to light Carver’s cigarette with his own. Carver stared up at his dark eyes as he did all this, watching him concentrate.
“How’s your shoulder?” he said shamelessly.
Scott raised his eyebrows at him, then smiled. “Shoulder’s fine. You fucked my back up, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you clawed me open.”
“I’m sorry,” Carver said, inching a little closer to him.
“You’re not sorry,” Scott said, his voice soft. “So what’s the play, here, you want to fuck at this wedding?”
Carver’s face flushed, and he smiled wider. “I’m down if you are. I’d like to blow you.”
Scott exhaled a laugh, shaking his head and looking away toward the windowed walls of the reception hall. “I don’t want a blowjob here.”
“Fine, you can give me a blowjob.”
“I don’t want to sneak around with you. I’m not a teenager anymore, Carv. That shit loses its appeal.”
