The food is actually good, if Matthieu’s nod of approval is to be believed, but Julien is too distracted by Hugo’s wandering hand to taste any of it.
Upper thigh, knee, inner thigh. Every stroke burns in Julien and spurs the Canadian man on further.
“You should slow down on the wine, you’re turning red.”
“Thanks, Matthieu. I’m fine.” Julien takes another sip, but it sticks in his throat after Hugo’s fingertips dance up his inseam.
When the group finishes, Hugo leads Julien out with a hand on his lower back, guiding him through the restaurant. It’s more assured, more confident than Julien remembers.
Hugo leans in close to ask, “Want to share a car back?”
“I’m staying at my apartment down the street. I can walk.”
“Mind if I join you?”
It’s a bad idea, but Julien nods. He wanted to celebrate. It’s his prerogative to do so however he likes.
“My place is a wreck, though.” Julien hadn’t thought about company when he left this morning. If he had, he would’ve imagined an entirely different man.
Oh well. Rafael made his decision when he chose to defend Thomas.
Hugo chuckles. “Some things never change.”
Just outside the door, the party stops and turns back, towards Julien and Hugo. Judgement clouds their expressions as they stare between both boys.
“What?” Julien asks.
Maman, with all of the grace in her body, turns away and says, “Rafael, this is a surprise.”
Julien immediately sobers up.
The group parts, and Rafael looks dashing in a silky black button-up shirt and pressed matte black slacks.
“Mrs. Dubois, Mr. Dubois, I’m sorry for intruding.” Rafael’s gaze wanders over the party and stops on the youngest Dubois.
Julien tries to step away from Hugo, to put distance between them, but the Canadian driver stays in step and tightens his grasp.
Ah. Some thingsreallynever change.
Julien forgot how controlling Hugo could be—how territorial. He’s just some nerd in glasses until he wants something, then his racing personality bubbles to the surface.
Rafael doesn’t back down. “Hey, Hugo. I was hoping to speak with Julien?”
“I can hear you,” Julien replies for himself. “How did you know where we were?”
“I—uh…”
Yeah, he can guess. “Really, Thomas? This is low, even for you.”
Thomas scoffs and pointedly turns away. “I do not care about your love life. Please leave me out of this.”
Hugo looks between all three Ferraro drivers and asks, “Love life?”
“Rafael and I are just friends.”
“I texted him,” Matthieu finally says.
Wait,what?
