David
Farzan was right:My Big Fat Greek Weddingwas hilarious. And cute. His mom would love it; he’d have to suggest it next time he saw her. Though maybe she’d already seen it.
When the credits rolled, he waited for Farzan to grab the remote, but he didn’t move. David reached for it, but Farzan still didn’t shift. He finally looked down and saw that Farzan had fallen asleep against his side. David couldn’t help a quick glance at Farzan’s jeans, but it looked like he’d gone soft again.
It shouldn’t have been disappointing—get in, get off, and get out was how David usually liked to handle hookups—but the thought that the night was more or less over left him feeling uncomfortably cold.
His feelings were all tangled, that was all. He was feeling cozy and domestic because it had been so long. He was out of practice. Yeah, Farzan was sweet, but it wasn’t like tonight meant anything other than that they had terrific chemistry.
So why did he hate to wake Farzan up?
And why did he want to get Farzan off again before he left?
It was way past David’s usual bedtime, and he barely stifled a yawn.But also, he couldn’t stay here, on Farzan’s couch. He couldn’t stay here in Farzan’s apartment, period, though he didn’t relish the idea of trying to find a Lyft this time of night. He’d left his own car at Aspire; he wasn’t sober enough to drive, even if he could make it back there.
Farzan nestled into him more, soft and warm. David barely managed to catch Farzan’s empty wineglass before it rolled out of his hand and crashed onto the floor. He supposed that was one way to wake up Sleeping Beauty.
“Hey,” he whispered instead. Farzan’s hair had fallen like a curtain over his forehead, and David switched both wineglasses to his left hand so he could play with Farzan’s hair with his right, brush it off Farzan’s brown skin. That hair was driving him crazy.
“Huh?” Farzan blinked.
“Movie’s over.”
“Oh. Sorry. I must’ve…”
“It’s fine,” David said. Well, maybefinewasn’t the right word. It was way off his usual hookup script, so far it might’ve actually switched genres. But if hewasgoing to let a guy cuddle up against him, he could do a hell of a lot worse than Farzan.
“Should we go to bed?” Farzan cocked a head toward the dark bedroom, lit only by dim street lights flooding in through the window. “I’ve got a toothbrush.”
David knew he should say no. First—again—no sleeping over.
Second, all his skincare was at home. So was his bonnet. And so were the tank top and shorts he liked to sleep in if he shared a bed with someone new, though he slept naked if he was alone.
Did Farzan sleep naked?
The thought sent warmth right to David’s core. He wanted to drink in Farzan’s brown skin, run his fingers through the chest hair that he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier, cuddle up and feel his legs tangle with Farzan’s—
Good lord, he was drunker than he thought. That was not post-hookup behavior.
But fuck it. He’d already broken so many of his own rules tonight. What was one more?
“Sure.”
David shot awake, startled to find himself wrapped around something. Something much warmer and softer and larger than a pillow, something that wriggled out of his grasp to smack a phone and shut off the horrible ringing.
“Sorry,” a scratchy voice said, and it came back. Aspire. Farzan.My Big Fat Greek Wedding.David glanced at the windows—still dark outside. Either that or Farzan had the densest blackout curtains in the world. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Farzan grabbed the phone and slipped out of bed, and David missed the warmth right away, but more than that, he wished the lights were on because it would’ve been nice to see Farzan’s ass in something more than the dim glow of a phone.
Turns out Farzan did sleep naked.
It certainly felt nice, snuggled up together. David hadn’t cuddled with anyone since… fuck, what was his name? Derek. Yeah. Derek, this guy he met back in Chicago. They’d hooked up off and on for about six months, back when David was still working at JPMorgan. One time they’d gotten snowed in post-sex and stayed in bed cuddling watching the snow blanket the city. David’s apartment had a great view.
God, that felt like a lifetime ago. He was so sure he’d been living the dream: the dream being, make enough money so his parents could retire. Make enough money so he’d never have to worry about bills.
Turned out that dream was fucking soulless—Derek worked in finance, too, and he’d also been pretty soulless in the end—but at least David made enough in those seven years to be set for a while. Long enough to figure out what actually made him happy, long enough to buy a house when he moved back to Kansas City.
Long enough to fall in love with wine and find a new dream of beinga master somm. His finances were stable enough—thank you, annual bonuses—and once he got his MS he’d have his pick of any number of high-end restaurants, with higher salaries than Jeri could reasonably offer.
