“Hello?”
Todd’s face came into frame. He was growing out his beard, and it framed his cheeks and jaw nicely. He must’ve colored it, too, since the brown was richer and deeper than Ramin remembered, auburn covering the gray whiskers that had started to pop up. Ramin had liked Todd’s grays, liked his smile lines, too, though now Ramin got a good look, he seriously wondered if Todd had gotten some Botox, because his face was too smooth.
“Hey, Ramin. Uh. Hi.” Todd scratched the back of his head. “How are you?”
Desperate to be anywhere else. Even the dentist’s office. Without modern painkillers.
“I’m fine… uh, you?”
“I’m good.” Todd lowered his arm. “I’m good.”
“Good.” Actually, some of those painkillers sounded great right about now. “Did you need something?”
“Sorry, yeah, I couldn’t find two of my winter coats, and I wondered if you could check for them?”
“Ah. Sorry. I can’t.”
“Really?” Todd cocked his head, like he was really looking at Ramin for the first time, noticing the bright blue accent wall behind his head. “Where are you?”
“Milan.”
“Milan.” Todd blinked. “Like, Italy?”
Ramin nodded.
“For work?”
“No, I just needed a change.” Ramin tried to keep his voice light. Fun. And not like he’d drunkenly booked the trip after spending the night crying about their breakup.
Todd’s mouth dropped.
“Farzan and Arya have keys, though. They can let you in if you need to check.”
“They’re not the biggest fans of me right now,” Todd muttered.
Ramin tried not to snort. But that’s what ride-or-dies were for. Holding you up when your ex-boyfriend let you down.
He wanted to show Todd he was okay. He wanted Todd to know he was thriving.
“Well, I better let you go. It’s late, and I’ve got to get to the club.”
“The club?”
Ramin nodded.
“Yeah. Have a good day.”
“Oh. Okay.” Todd looked absolutely bewildered. Ramin wanted to laugh. “Bye.”
“Byeeeeeee,” Ramin said, drawing out the vowel. He ended the call and flopped back onto the couch. Why had he said that?
The truth was, he wasn’t the biggest fan of clubs. At least going by himself. Todd had loved them—naturally—but Ramin had only really gone along to make him happy. His first time at a club, back when he was only twenty-two, a drunk twunk had told him “Straight skinny is gay fat,” and he’d meant it, too.
So, yeah. Clubs weren’t exactly his scene. But fuck. It was nearly nine o’clock, and Noah still hadn’t gotten back to him.
Maybe he wasn’t going to. Maybe it really was just a random hookup.
Maybe Ramin hadn’t given him a good handjob. No, fuck, that was ridiculous, Ramin had turned in A+ work as usual. He might have a beautiful mosaic of hangups about his own body, but damn it, he knew his way around a dick.
