But now here he was, at Aspire, and there David was, delivering two glasses of wine to a booth, and when he turned and caught Farzan’s eyes, Farzan nearly wanted to bolt out the doors.
Because it was foolish. It was foolish to ask David to help him when they barely knew each other.
It was even more foolish to put himself back in David’s orbit, when every cell in his body was desperate for David’s touch. He’d told David he couldn’t do casual, that he didn’t want to hook up, but if David offered sex again—even meaningless, emotion-free sex—Farzan didn’t think he could resist.
David’s eyes lit up, followed quickly by a broad smile. And: nope. Farzan definitely couldn’t resist.
“Hey. You came back.”
Farzan thought he’d been imagining the things David’s voice did to him, but no, that was real. Farzan’s stomach flipped at the sound, deep and mellow and the tiniest bit breathy.
“Yeah.” This close, Farzan’s senses were overwhelmed by the musk andvetiver of David’s cologne, the way his maroon-gray suit highlighted his shoulders and hugged his hips, the deep warmth of his eyes, framed by the faintest of laugh lines. He swallowed.
This was a mistake.
But he’d never been so glad to be the family fuckup.
“Can we talk?”
“That’s… a lot,” David said, when Farzan had finished sharing the most compressed version of his story he could muster. David stood behind the bar, stirring an Old Fashioned (made with a big sphere of ice, and no cherries, Farzan was glad to see). “But your mom’s okay?”
“Yeah. She is.” When Farzan called his mom Friday night—ostensibly to talk about logistics but really to check up on her—he’d been tempted to yell at her for keeping her heart attack a secret, but he’d managed to have a calm, adult discussion instead. Persis insisted it was mild, they caught it early, it didn’t do any damage, she was lucky and taking new medication, and everything was going to be fine.
“I’m glad.”
“Thanks.” Farzan could tell David really meant it. Even though he’d never met Persis. Farzan’s chest warmed. “Anyway, I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. Except suddenly I’m supposed to run a restaurant and I don’t actually know anyone else who does that. Except you.”
David chuckled. He passed the Old Fashioned off to another server and topped up Farzan’s Syrah (a nicely structured one from Walla Walla). “I don’t technically run this place. That would be Jeri.”
“Yeah, I know, but…”
“And your parents run a restaurant.”
“Yeah, and they don’t think I can do it. If I start asking them questions…”
“Gotcha.” David sighed. “Well. I’m happy to help.”
“Really?”
David nodded. “I’ve been in the hospitality industry for… oh god.” David seemed to deflate a bit before he straightened out with a laugh. “Nineteen years now, off and on. And the last eight of them full time in fine dining.”
“I’ve been around Shiraz Bistro all my life, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, cooking wise I’ve got it covered. But all the business-y things? Spreadsheets and payroll and inventory and god knows what else?” Farzan’s hand tightened around the stem of his wineglass; he made himself relax before he snapped it.
“Hey. Take a breath.” David’s hand brushed Farzan’s; Farzan couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but either way, they both jumped at the contact. “I got you.”
“Thanks.” Farzan took a deep breath. “And I’m not asking for free. I can pay you in Persian food, or more wine, or I can help you study for your test. Whatever works for you.”
Farzan wasn’t going to bring up sex. That would make it feel way too transactional. He sipped his wine as David studied him, eyes turning mischievous.
“What if I want to get paid in blowjobs?” David asked. “That works for me.”
Farzan spat his wine out his nose, spattering the bartop and burning his sinuses. David yelped and narrowly dodged getting the wine on his suit jacket, but he was back right away with a towel.
“Sorry! Sorry. That was mean.”
Farzan coughed and sputtered and drank his water. He should have been annoyed at how easy it was to fall back into flirting. How natural. He should have been annoyed that hewasn’tannoyed.
But that wasn’t what any of this was about. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”
