Ramin wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
Nope, that was the alcohol talking. Ramin set down his glass andrubbed at his mom’s name over his pulse point and tried to remember where he was. This was not a date, and Noah was not interested in him, and he really needed to sit up straighter, because their knees had been knocking under the table for the last thirty minutes, but Ramin and Noah had both gotten too buzzed to do anything about it.
“That was so good,” Noah said. He sighed and scratched at his chest, where his collar was unbuttoned enough to show the valley between his pecs. Ramin wondered what it would feel like to rest his head against them.
And then he stopped wondering, because that was inappropriate. Obviously. Noah was his friend, a whole human being with his own thoughts and desires, not one of those anime body pillows. They’d shared a lovely meal. It didn’t have to be more than that.
“Itwasgood. I’m sorry Jake and Angela missed it,” Ramin said.
Noah’s hand stilled in his hair. He bit his lip.
“What’s the deal with you and her anyway?”
Noah’s eyes went wide. He dropped his hand to the table.
Ramin blinked. He couldn’t believe he’d just asked that. Yeah, he’d thought it once… or twice… or thirty times tonight. But he didn’t mean tosayit.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. That’s the wine talking. Forget I asked.”
Noah shook his head. “It’s fine.” He took a long sip of his wine, and Ramin tried not to stare at the arch of his neck, the divot in his chin, the glimpse of a wine-stained tongue. Noah puffed up his upper lip before blowing out a breath.
“We were married. Eight years.”
“Were?”
“Yeah. Divorced two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” That sucked. “Did Jake take it okay?”
Noah’s eyes crinkled up. “Yeah. He did. Thank you for asking. I think it helped that me and Angela stayed friends. Granted, we did lots of therapy.”
“Thank God for therapy.” Ramin raised his glass.
Noah grinned again and clinked with Ramin. “What about you? Any family? Kids?”
Ramin shook his head. “I just got out of a relationship, actually.”
“Oh, man, that sucks.” Noah leaned in, his eyes softening in sympathy. “Was the breakup bad?”
“I mean, it was bad enough that I flew halfway around the world to get away from it, so…”
“You want to talk about it?”
Ramin shook his head. Noah didn’t need to hear about his humiliating proposal.
“That’s fair.” Noah shifted, and their calves brushed under the table, their fine hairs tangling, sending electricity up Ramin’s spine and shorting out his brain.
“I proposed and my boyfriend turned me down,” he blurted out.
Fuckety-fuck! He hadn’t meant to say that.
Damn this wine! (Not really. The Ornellaia hadn’t done anything wrong.)
Ramin tensed all along his back and neck. So much for not outing himself. He braced himself for Noah’s smile to fall. For him to frown and make some excuse to leave. Or worse—
But none of that happened. And Noah didn’t move away. If his smile dimmed, it was only to curve down in sympathy. “I’m really sorry. What happened?”
Ramin sighed and unclenched. “You don’t want to hear about it.”
