Are you sure you texted the right person?
Yeah
You in?
Should I bring something?
Wine?
It’s at a restaurant
That’s not the question I asked
You bring your own wine to a restaurant?
Depends on whether I want to make a good impression.
Despite himself, Julien flushes. It’s just dinner. Dinner with a friend.
A friend he’s fucked.
Okay, that was uncalled for.
Bring it.
Curious glances track the drivers as they’re guided down the narrow aisles to the back of the restaurant. Phones follow quickly after, their flashlights at full brightness, removing all subtly.
Julien grimaces and presses closer into his taller companion. Attention comes with the sport. If he didn’t want to be noticed, he shouldn’t have won the French GP.
They’re the last to arrive, and the full table looks up with horrified surprise as they approach. They didn’t need to make it so obvious.
“Maman, Papa, Matthieu,” Julien says, pushing his date forward. “You all remember Hugo?”
“Bonsoir,” Hugo says with his silly little Canadian lilt.“Comment allez-vous?”
“Hugo, of course, it’s been a long time.” Maman stands to greet him, kissing both of his cheeks. “How have you been, dear?”
“Well. I’ve been well.” Hugo presents a bottle that Maman graciously accepts. “I didn’t know what we’d be having, but I remembered you had a penchant for woody reds.”
Sam snorts and Thomas jostles him.
“That is very kind. Please, sit.” Maman gestures to the seats they’ve left open.
Julien takes the chair furthest from Thomas, but Hugo is there to pull it out for him.
“Merci,”Julien says with a little uncertainty.
Matthieu glares at him from across the table, matching Thomas’s ire. He didn’t specify who the guest needed to be. That was his own fault.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses, Hugo,” Sam says, breaking the silence.
“Ah, yes.” Hugo pushes his round wire frames back up his nose. “Contacts dry out my eyes, so I try to wear glasses when I can.”
“Looks good.”
“Thank you.”
“Where is Rafael?” Thomas demands. He’s such a petulant little child.
