Chapter Four
Demir
Marco threw himself against me, and I spun as I caught him, laughing. “I can’t believe we’re doing on a date!” he said. “We haven’t gone on a date in years.”
I helped him back to his feet and smoothed down his shirt. “We go on dates with each other all the time,” I pointed out.If dinner at the same restaurant every other week actually counts as a date.
“That’s true,” he said. “But a first date?”
I laughed, then offered him my arm. “I know, it’s fun.”
When Alex handed off Grayson’s number from the bar, it hadn’t taken us long to figure out what we wanted to do. I wasn’t sure what Grayson was looking for, but Marco and I both thought a date with a new person sounded exciting and a low-stakes way to explore something new.
I highly doubted we would have time for anything more than a casual meetup or two, especially with the new construction around the corner. But when we were younger, we used to casually see a third sometimes, and there was no reason I could see that we couldn’t revive that part of our lives, especially when the guy was as charming as Grayson.
We walked through the parking lot and out onto the street. The streetlights were shining brightly, and everyone had their jackets off for one of the first truly warm evenings. Small cafes and boutiques lined the street, all with early summer flowers sprouting in their window boxes and street-side planters. I spotted the restaurant we had picked, then guided Marco toward it.
“New American cuisine,” Marco said. “Very fancy.”
I shrugged. “Is it too much? Like you said, it’s been a while.”
“It’s lovely,” Marco said quickly. “And we offered to take him out when we called. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
I laughed. “It is funny to have these first date nerves again. Do you remember the reputation you and I used to have together?”
He chuckled with me and squeezed my arm tighter. “I remember that everyone knew there was no coming between us.”
I turned and planted a kiss on Marco’s lips, brushing my thumb across his cheek. The decade of owning the club together had flown by so fast, I could sometimes forget to appreciate the moments like this one.
“Here we are,” he said brightly. “Date night!”
Grayson was already waiting at the table when the host showed us over. He wore a chambray shirt, buttoned up nicely, and his dark hair was styled up above the tightly cut sides. His brow cut a sharp line above his deep brown eyes, and when he saw us, his face turned up in a smile. “Demir,” he said. “Marco.”
So handsome, I thought.And so much strength in his eyes.
We greeted each other and shook hands, and quickly, Marco’s charm eased us into a conversation and a few laughs as the waiter took our drink orders and presented the menus.
“I’m glad you could join us, Grayson,” I said as I put my menu down.
He smiled, and color shot across his olive cheeks. “I have to say, when I dropped my number off, I wasn’t sure if I’d hear back.”
I turned to Marco, and he popped his shoulders up in a casual shrug. “Well, we certainly don’t get dinner with just anyone,” he joked.
I reached out and rested my hand on the back of Marco’s chair, then smiled to Grayson. I had spent the entire day in my car, rushing between appointments for the club. Sitting with them, though, in the soft light of the restaurant, the stress in my body was already beginning to melt away.
Grayson peered at the menu, then set it against the table. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand a thing on this menu.”
I laughed, struck by his honesty. “That’s because it’s mainly made up bullshit,” I said.
“True,” Marco agreed. “It’s the menu’s fault. I usually end up searching ingredients on my phone.” He held his menu up, pointing. “What, for instance, are fresh ogurets and kombu-cured double fluke? And do I really want my spinach to be thrice-glazed?”
Grayson laughed. “I was trying to figure out which things were meat and which were vegetarian.”
“I can help with that,” Marco replied, gesturing to the menu. “I’m vegetarian, too.”
As they chatted over the menu, I leaned back in my chair, taking in the way they talked to each other. Grayson had seemed slightly reserved at the club, like he was carefully taking the place in and assessing it. At dinner, he was similarly intentional, and I noticed the way he held his back straight and seemed to pause and think carefully before he spoke. Instead of coming across as disconnected or distant, however, it struck me that he was a very conscientious man, and that when he said something, he most certainly meant it.
The waiter came and took our orders and deposited a bottle of wine. Marco poured us each a glass with a flick of his wrist, and Grayson smiled contentedly to himself when he took a sip.
