“Your friend must lead an interesting life.”
Farzan smiled, deepening the lines around his eyes. David couldn’t help smiling back.
“He certainly tries to. Ramin—that’s my other best friend—he’s always been the calm one. Arya’s the adventurous one. Last year he even got me to sign up for this queer kickball league. We’re in the championships and everything!”
“That is… extremely random.” David hadn’t played kickball since fifth-grade recess. The thought of adults playing it was utterly ridiculous.
Then again, the thought of Farzan in some cute athletic shorts, his strong ass stretching the fabric, sweat glistening on that little patch of skin at the base of his spine… Did Farzan wear compression shorts? A jock?
David shivered the thought away.
Farzan blushed a bit. “I guess so.”
“But it sounds fun.”
“You know what? It weirdly is.” Farzan cleared his throat and gestured up the lobby. “Anyway, I guess I should… I mean, you waiting for someone?”
“Nope. My friend bailed on me too.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Eh, it’s fine…” David was about to suggest, since they’d both been bailed on, they head back to his place. But before he could:
“You want to look around some, then?”
He shouldn’t. He should go home. Study.
Farzan gave him a sly grin. “You can practice your tasting skills on the free Champagne.”
David laughed. “Now how can I resist an offer like that?”
“Damn, your friend got you the fancy tickets.” David raised his flute.
“To Arya,” Farzan said. “And yeah, I guess they were VIPs or something?”
David clinked and took a sip—pretty decent, though now that he tasted, it was definitely California sparkling wine, not Champagne. Itwas good, though. He took another sip. Nicely crisp, but with a little buttery hint from some malolactic fermentation. Fresh apple, warm bread… “Schramsberg. Blanc de Blancs.”
Farzan ran back to the bar, peeked over the counter, and gave David a thumbs-up.
Nailed it.
Farzan wound his way back, and they found a spot toward one of the corners of Rozelle Court, the enclosed atrium in the center of the Nelson. It was an acoustic nightmare: pink marble floors, columns, a gallery on the floor above, and a glass ceiling over the whole thing. David could barely hear Farzan over all the mingling people.
“I can’t even think in here,” Farzan said, draining his wine and then covering his mouth; his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he stifled a burp. David nearly snorted out his own wine.
“Same.” They dropped their empty flutes on one of the trays carried by circulating waiters, then made their escape, into a quieter hallway lined with statues.
“Where is the exhibit, anyway?”
Farzan pulled up his phone again, brow furrowing. David wanted to smooth out the little tense spot with his thumb.
Wow, that wine had hit him fast. He wasn’t a face-massage kind of guy, even if Farzan’s face was empirically beautiful, his lips pursed in thought…
“Don’t be mad.”
“What?” David shook himself. “Why would I be mad?”
“I read the ticket wrong. The reception was up here. The exhibit is in the Bloch Building. Back the way we came.”
