JAY
Jay had spent countless meals dealing with tomatoes—either painstakingly picking them out or enduring the uncomfortable aftermath. The concept of a mild allergy never resonated with his parents, and the symptoms were dismissed for years. Even after he did the tests as an adult, finally vindicated with an official diagnosis, he didn’t want to make a fuss, so nothing ever changed.
But Aaronhadmade a fuss. His immediate and fierce outburst made something bloom warmly inside Jay, like the first rays of sunshine after a long winter night. The whispered thank-you didn’t seem like enough, but it was the best Jay could do without getting choked up.
“Of course,” Aaron said. “Allergies can change throughout your life. Repeat exposure can make them go from mild itching and burning to anaphylaxis.”
“That’s scary.” Jay shifted in his seat. How had he never known that? He was the one with the allergy, yet Aaron knew more about it than he did. “I don’t usually talk about this stuff—the migraines or the allergy.”
“Not even with your partners?”
Jay couldn’t tell if Aaron was fishing or simply curious. There might have been a trace of flirtation in Aaron’s voice, though it was probably just wishful thinking on Jay’s part. He didn’t want to answer Aaron’s question. They were just starting to get to know each other, and this was a side of Jay he hated to share.
He considered changing the subject, but he couldn’t keep doing that forever, and a part of him wanted Aaron to know him. “Not really. Haven’t been with anyone long enough to want to spill my darkest secrets.”
Aaron chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, you’re one of those. Commitment-phobe or just playing the field?”
“Neither,” Jay said, rolling his eyes at the idea. “Just bad luck, I guess. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll happen at all.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. What was happening to him? Instead of doing his best to impress Aaron, he was getting emotional over a salad and sharing his innermost fears.
Aaron didn’t seem to mind, responding with a playful smile. “Oh, hush. If it’s not too late for me, it’s definitely not too late for you. I promise.”
This time, it was unmistakable. There was a flirty edge to Aaron’s voice, and Jay’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to school his expression and steer the conversation to a different topic. “And what about you? Any secret allergies or monster migraines I should know about?”
“Everyone’s got something,” Aaron said with a shrug. “I threw my back out a few years ago, and it’s been giving me warning twinges whenever I overdo it. That’s old age for you.”
Jay filed that piece of information away. Not that he’d need it. Not that he’d ever be in a situation where he’d have to worry about Aaron’s back.
“Right. Your old age,” Jay huffed a chuckle. “The same age I will be entering in just a few years myself, so I should get ready.”
He didn’t understand why Aaron kept making such a big deal of his age. A few white strands caught the light when Aaron dragged his fingers through his hair, but that was the only indicator of their age difference that Jay could see.
Before Aaron could respond, the server swept up to the table and placed a new plate in front of Jay. Aaron leaned over toinspect it, concentration written on his face, as if making sure not a single piece of tomato was hiding in its depths. It looked fine to Jay.
The server set down another plate at the center of the table. “Here’s some edamame, on the house. I’m sorry about earlier. Sometimes I get on autopilot and…” She shrugged at Jay and flitted her glance to Aaron.
“We get it,” Aaron said. “You have a lot of tables and not enough help. Thank you for being so accommodating.”
She flashed a relieved smile and hurried away.
“How did you do that?” Jay couldn’t hide the awe in his voice. “You basically just told her to do her job better, and she apologizedandgave you a freebie instead of getting angry.”
Aaron didn’t respond right away. He placed a pod of edamame between his full lips, working the beans out with his teeth. As his tongue darted out to capture the stray bits of salt, Jay’s heartbeat picked up. If he was going to be this sensual with every bite he took, Jay was sure to experience one of the most awkward erections of his life.
Thankfully, instead of grabbing another piece, Aaron laced his fingers together and hummed in thought, finally answering the question Jay had already forgotten he’d asked. “But I didn’t tell her to do her job better, did I? I explained what we needed and asked for her help. I didn’t blame her, because that would put her on the defensive. I mean, everyone makes mistakes, and service workers have to deal with enough rude people as it is.”
“Let me guess, you majored in psychology?”
Aaron laughed. “Actually, I did. But most of this stuff I learned on the job. Despite screaming left and right that I’d never take part in work politics when I was your age, I had to deal witha lotof it, and learned quite a bit along the way.”
“What kind of politics?” Jay gestured for Aaron to continue before trying to gracefully shove a forkful of lettuce in his mouth.
“My industry can be a little nebulous. There are some metrics when it comes to employee engagement, goals, and strategy, but those numbers will never be as concrete as something from Finance or IT. A lot of strategy is long-term, so it’s harder to figure out if things are working.” Aaron sighed and absently stirred his soup in slow circles. “When you can’t rely on numbers, you have to justify your role on the strength of your image. And if you project confidence, if you sound like you know what you’re talking about,ifyou have their respect, only then will they agree that you’re a necessary part of the team.”
“They hired you, so don’t they already know you’re necessary?” Jay asked.
“Theoretically. But I still have to worry about being allowed to make decisions or given room to work. If people don’t trust me, I can’t drive any meaningful change, and eventually, it’ll be obvious if I’m not making a difference.”
“So you play politics to get people to like you?”
