“No,” Benji scoffed, even faster and more damning than last time. He backed away, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “What do you want?”
“White wine,” Noah said after a pause so long that Benji’s sweat patches grew.
Benji flicked him a salute. “White wine, coming up.”
Then he fled.
He did end up hitting the nightmare hall full of old coats. But once he turned around and found a shockingly small door off to the left, he stepped into a too-bright room with a minuscule bar.
“Thank fuck,” he muttered. This was even worse than the gala. He was among his peers, and he still felt so out of place. He wished he’d dragged Noah along to rub comforting circles into his hip. It was better this way, he told himself as he approached the open bar. He didn’t have to watch Noah’s expression as he saw the painting for the first time.
Never mind that he kind ofwantedto watch it. He wanted it the same way he wanted Noah to hold him down, the same way he wanted Noah to say he loved him: with deep, trembling embarrassment so intense it triggered his fight or flight instinct. Part of him had been hoping that Noah wouldn’t let him go, that he’d drag Benji with him or insist on accompanying him to get drinks. Then Benji wouldn’t have a choice, he’d have to tolerate it. And he’d probably thank Noah later. Depending on what his reaction was, anyway.
He waved the bartender down. “Two white wines, please.”
The bartender nodded, sliding two full glasses up on the bar.
Before Benji could take them, Daphne appeared at his side. She was wearing Tia’s glittery jacket, and her smile was so apologetic it struck fear into Benji’s heart.
“Hey,” she said. “We should talk.”
CHAPTER 24
Noah watched Benji vanish down the hall and wondered how worried he should be.
He didn’t know anything about the painting except that it had gold in it. Benji had flung a sheet over it the second he heard Noah’s footsteps. Maybe it was just Benji’s usual fear of vulnerability, but it made Noah sad, all the same. He’d hoped this could be something they could do together. Then again, at least Benji was letting him see it. At least he was putting it up in front of all these people, which was more than he could do with the pasta painting.
Baby steps.
He turned to the hall that the girls had pointed down, only to almost bowl Mrs. Presley over.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her. “Mrs. Presley, hi. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, Noah!” Mrs. Presley beamed. “I thought I heard your dulcet tones. This is a charming little venue, isn’t it? Reminds me of my ‘bumming around’ days before I met my husband. I’ve gotten lost four times already. Whereabouts are the facilities, do you know?”
Noah had seen a bathroom sign five minutes ago. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to point her in that direction. He’d been around a lot of corners since then.
“I just saw your boy’s painting,” Mrs. Presley continued. “It’s fabulous. Not entirely my wheelhouse, but there’s such a gorgeous intimacy to it! I’d say I’d fight you for it, but I’ll let you decide if you want it first. I’m going to find someone who knows where the facilities are. This is becoming an emergency.”
“Of course. Thank you for coming.” Noah stood back to let her go, then looked into the doorway she’d just come out of. It was now or never.
He stepped toward the hall and knocked into a man who was making a speedy beeline for it.
“Whoa,” Noah said, grabbing the guy before he could stumble into the wall. He’d collided with Noah pretty hard. “Sorry about that, I didn't …”
He trailed off. The guy he was holding stared at him, wide-eyed and bushy-haired and annoyingly familiar.
Noah’s grip tightened unwillingly around Dillion's shoulders.
“We never officially met,” Noah said, forcing his face into a polite smile and holding out a hand. “I’m Noah Stern. I’m dating Benjamin Caulfield. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
Dillion took a second too long to break into that smarmy smile he used in all his photos.
“Everybody knows that,” he said. He shoved something in his coat pocket and grabbed Noah’s hand, pumping hard. “It’s good to meet you, sir. I wanted to apologize for what you saw that night. I was really wasted. I don’t remember much.”
“No harm done,” Noah told him. He kept hold of Dillion’s hand, digging his thumb into the spindly tendons. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Dillion.”
Dillion smiled, fleeting and panicked. “I-I wish I could say the same, sir. Benji’s kind of tight-lipped.”
