He glanced at Emory, who appeared to be patiently waiting for him to respond. Everything from his relaxed jaw to the gentle slope of his shoulders telegraphed calm and understanding. Maybe there was still hope?
“You haven’t done anything to prove you aren’t understanding. I’m sorry. I really think my nerves have gotten the best of me. Could we…start over maybe?”
Emory blinked once and then gave a slow nod. “Where would you like to begin?”
Cameron tapped his thumb anxiously against Emory’s and received a gentle tap back.
“Well…I know about your friend Christopher, but there was another man in a lot of your photos?”
For the first time that night, it seemed like Cameron had said the right thing. Emory’s smile returned, but at a lower wattage than before. “That would be Ronan. Our families have known each other for decades. My father always assumed Ronan would join the company and work by my side, but Ronan is a bit of a free spirit.” He gave an affectionate chuckle, easing some of the remaining tension from the table. “Instead, we hired Christopher, and he and I meshed at work in the same way I’ve always meshed with Ronan. We rose through the ranks together and became just as close as Ronan and I have always been. They eventually met through work events and family gatherings, and they meshed with each other as well.”
All this talk of “meshing” had Cameron’s octopus tentacles twitching. Before he could inquire further, their waiter arrived with food and a refill on their wine. Cameron hadn’t drunk much of his, but he took a few absentminded gulps as a bowl of what he could only describe as mush was placed in front of him.
They both fanned out their napkins, and Cameron tried desperately to select the right utensil to use. He’d been to dozens of formal events, but for the life of him, he could never remember if it was outside in, inside out, or just a free-for-all based on vibes.
Emory politely cleared his throat and gestured to the middle fork, and Cameron snatched it up. He wasn’t sure if the prickle along his neck was embarrassment from this or the fact that when he took a bite of his food, he found it was indeed the consistency of mush with next to no flavor. He tried to school his expression, but Emory was watching him with concern. So,naturally, he blurted out the first semi-coherent thought he, or really his octopus, could form.
“So, when you say meshed, do you mean, like, romantically?”
Emory’s fork, filled with a gorgeously marbled piece of steak, paused halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean me and Christopher? Me and Ronan? Or Christopher and Ronan?”
Cameron nodded and shoved another forkful of mush—seriously, what was this?—into his mouth. This bite had a piece of shrimp in it, so at least there was that. It was well-cooked, but couldn’t really save the overall dish. Cameron’s nose twitched in distaste as he took a swig of wine to wash it down.
“Before I answer,” Emory said, lowering his fork to his plate and swiping it through the au jus sauce drizzled on the bottom of the dish, “would you like to try a bite?”
Cameron’s stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat lunch, too anxious about their date, but he didn’t want to make a fuss. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth instead of answering.
“It’s really quite good. And there’s so much of it, I’m never able to finish,” Emory hedged.
Cameron stared at the steak, and Emory’s cheeks slowly tinged pink as he held the fork awkwardly across the table. As the blush crept under Emory’s beard, Cameron’s stubbornness gave way. He placed his silverware on the side of his plate, bending forward so Emory could feed him a bite, which he did smoothly. Cameron had never really enjoyed being fed. Typically, if someone was trying to feed him, it was either his absentminded Pa, who often missed Cameron’s mouth, or it was his troublemaker sister, who would purposefully miss his mouth. As he accepted the tender steak, however, warmth blossomed in his chest. It was delicious, and he had to stifle a groan as his teeth sank into the meat. This was more like it. Actual sustenance.
“May I try yours?” Emory asked, lowering his fork to Cameron’s plate.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’m not really sure what it is, to be honest.”
Emory took a piece of shrimp and some of the mush. “I believe it’s seafood risotto.” He ate his bite with little fanfare. “My mother makes something similar. I’m quite a fan of it, actually.”
Cameron’s nose twitched in distaste, which he tried to hide by wiping his mouth with his napkin.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Emory’s lips. “Would you perhaps like to trade?”
Cameron's arms crossed defensively over his chest, a mirror image of his suspicious octopus. He scanned Emory’s face, looking for any deception or hesitation. Did Emoryactuallywant to eat this stuff? Was it some sort of test?
Emory blinked innocently at him and slowly reached for his plate.
“I won’t be able to eat that whole steak by myself,” Cameron hedged, a bit of that prickling sensation returning.
“I assure you, I will happily finish what you don’t. I am…not the best at remembering to eat during the workday, so if anything, the extra food would probably do me some good.”
Once their plates were switched, Cameron tentatively cut into the steak. A happy murmur escaped his mouth after the first bite. He never treated himself to food like this, so outside of work events, he very rarely ate steak.
Emory took several generous bites and sips of wine until Cameron finally relaxed and eagerly tucked into the steak. He must not have been lying about being hungry because Emory put away the mush at an impressive speed.
“So, you were asking about me, Christopher, and Ronan? Whether there was anything between us?” Emory asked between bites of food. At Cameron’s nod, Emory let out a small huff of alaugh. “No, there was never anything between me and Chris, and while he and Ronan are… What is the term? They say it so often, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten it. Snuggle bunnies?”
Cameron choked on a laugh. “Cuddle buddies?”
Emory gave a genuine laugh in return. It seemed to rise up through his chest, causing his shoulders to flex and pull against the tight confines of his shirt. While Cameron couldn’t help but grin at his amusement, Cameron’s octopus took note of how muscular his shoulders were. Cameron had never tried to picture a future mate, but if he had, he probably wouldn’t have conjured up Emory. He was large, almost intimidatingly so, and that would usually put Cameron on edge. Thomas had been an average-sized guy, but he had a talent for making Cameron feel small.
