“You’re right. I definitely want to hook up. I don’t know about a relationship.”
“And you don’t need to know right now. You can just be honest about where you’re at.”
“I feel bad for running away. I was a coward when I did that.”
“Maybe so, but I think he’ll understand.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“No, but I know you, and I trust your taste.”
He smiled at her. They reached his building, and Joel thanked the driver. They slipped out of the car, Ariadne on Joel’s arm, and his doorman let him into the large apartment building. The lobby was dim and quiet, with piano music tinkling in the air. Joel felt a bit silly wearing his costume, and he wanted to shower and change into comfortable clothes.
The building’s concierge got his attention. “Mr. Beckett? You have a guest waiting for you here in the lobby.”
Joel and Ariadne exchanged a glance. Joel’s building had excellent security, and there were only a few people they’d let in to see the famous people who lived there, if those guests weren’t residents themselves.
“Who…?” Ariadne began to ask, but then Joel saw him, sitting in a lounge chair by a large monstera plant.
Quentin Hartley wore a gray sweatshirt and dark jeans, with a navy blue duffle coat. His hair had been cut since Joel had last seen him, and there was a hopeful and concerned look in his eyes when he met Joel’s gaze.
Joel felt a shiver of heat run through his body, a flush that began at his neck, traveled down his back, and settled in his core.
“Oh, my god,” Ariadne whispered, squeezing Joel’s arm. “Is that…?”
“It is.”
She released him. “I just realized, I made plans tonight.”
“Ariadne…”
“They’re very important, and I can’t cancel them. Have fun!”
She left him standing there and went to the concierge to ask for a car.
Joel couldn’t move as Quentin stood slowly and walked over to Joel. Their gazes never broke. Quentin seemed to take up the entire room and all the oxygen. Joel couldn’t move, but he felt a magnetic pull towards Quentin.
The hockey player reached him, stopping a few paces from Joel. He still looked uncertain. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Joel whispered.
“You can tell me to leave right now,” Quentin said, “and I will, and you won’t ever hear from me again.”
For the briefest moment, Joel thought about it. He thought about telling Quentin to leave. It would be so easy. He could go on living his life and forget that he knew Quentin. He could remain closeted; he wouldn’t have to confront the truths about himself that were getting harder to ignore.
“Stay,” he whispered.
Part 3
Chapter 15
Quentin & Joel
Keeping his hands off of Joel as they rode the elevator up to his apartment was one of the most difficult things Quentin had ever done. His entire body felt electrified and on fire. He wanted to seize Joel and press him against the brass wall of the elevator, kissing him and touching him and grinding their bodies together.
But he waited.
He had been patient for so long, and he didn’t want to be patient anymore. He had been running on an adrenaline high the entire time he’d enacted the plan he’d made with Henri. It had been Henri who had figured out that Quentin and Joel would be in New York City at the same time: Quentin for a hockey game, Joel for the Empire Gala. A small amount of Internet sleuthing had revealed where Joel lived in New York. Quentin hadn’t known for sure when Joel would get back from the gala, or if he’d even come home. Maybe he was going to an afterparty, or maybe he was going home with someone else. Joel didn’t owe him anything, though Quentin certainly would’ve appreciated at least an explanation for what had happened in Tampa.
