“Oh. Sorry.” Ramin remembered when Arya had wrestled freshman year and been miserable the whole time. He’d switched to swim team after that.
“It’s fine. As long as it helps me win, right?” Noah’s voice was deep and smooth. Sometimes Ramin wished his own voice had gotten that deep. Or at least a little deeper. He would’ve rather been a bass than a tenor.
He would’ve rather been in the kind of shape Noah was, too. Most of the wrestlers were in good shape, but Noah was something else. Ramin had been chubby all his life. Maybe if he started wrestling, he could lose some weight. Be more like Noah. Just because Arya had hated it, that didn’t mean Ramin would.
“Sorry,” Noah said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You can keep studying. I just wanted a little company.”
Were Noah’s cheeks turning red? No, it was just Ramin’s imagination,and anyway, Noah stuffed a huge bite of salad… well, lettuce into his mouth.
Ramin shrugged. “I don’t mind the company, either.”
Now
While Noah looked over the menu, Ramin studied the wine list. Did Noah even like wine? Ramin needed some or he’d never make it through dinner. His heart would hammer its way out of his chest. Or he’d accidentally rupture his spleen from nerves. Twenty years later, Noah still made him nervous.
He didn’t know why. Noah was kind and thoughtful and seemed genuinely happy to see Ramin.
But he was also hot, and he still wore that silver cross, and he had no idea Ramin was gay, and what if he was secretly a homophobe?
So. Wine.
Ramin wasn’t nearly as knowledgeable about wine as David—the guy was a freaking master sommelier, after all—but he did knowsome. The problem was, he’d never heard of any of the wines on the list. They were all Italian, and no doubt all amazing, but how he was he supposed to pick?
Finally he spotted one wine he recognized in the Tuscan section—Ornellaia, a super Tuscan he’d heard David talk about with a dreamy look in his eyes. Ramin had never actually tasted it. He didn’t usually spend that much on wine. Hell, he never spenthalfthat much on wine.
But Interesting New Ramin liked to splurge.
And some small, juvenile part of him wanted to impress Noah.
So after they both ordered—both going for the risotta alla Milanese, short-grain rice with saffron and bone marrow—Ramin said, “And a bottle of the Ornellaia?”
Their server, a young woman with flame red hair, bugged out her eyes. “Sì. Is this a special occasion?”
“Oh. Uh.” What was he supposed to say? Yes? But what occasion? No? But then he just looked like some asshole who ordered expensive wine because he could. A typical American tourist. Probably ruining the local economy, too, and—
“It’s a reunion,” Noah offered. “We haven’t seen each other in twenty years!”
“Ah, che bello,” the server said. “Allora, we’ll bring the wine right away.”
Ramin unclenched his butt and looked back at Noah. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t even ask if you drank. You don’t have to—”
“I’d love to try the wine.” Noah smiled softly and shifted his legs under the table, but Ramin didn’t get out of the way fast enough and their knees bumped.
Noah had changed out of his Royals shirt and jeans into a light pink polo shirt that looked absolutely incredible against his skin (not to mention stretched across his chest, which somehow looked even more perfect than before), and a pair of shorts, because Ramin felt his leg hair brush against Noah’s. He fought off a shiver and snapped his legs back together, though he kind of missed the feel of Noah’s warm skin. That was the jet lag talking again, no doubt.
“So.” Noah leaned in and rested his forearms on the table. Ramin tried his best not to trace the cords there or imagine the texture of the black hairs. Noah had really hairy forearms.
“—anyone from high school?” Noah was saying. Ramin blinked.
“Sorry, say again?” Ramin gestured vaguely toward the road, though annoyingly, no cars were driving past. “I didn’t hear you.”
Noah didn’t seem to notice the lie. “I was asking if you kept in touch with any friends from high school? I haven’t talked toanyonesince graduation.”
“I still talk to my best friends. You remember Farzan Alavi and Arya Nazeri?”
“Oh yeah, Arya was on the wrestling team one year. You’re still best friends?”
“We own a restaurant together, actually. Shiraz Bistro, up in Gladstone.”
