‘Noah says you’re a bookseller,’ Matty said, still holding on to Hermione like she was his and only his. ‘That must be nice.’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Quinn had no intention of bringing up the rocky future he had as a bookseller. ‘And what do you do?’
Noah handed Quinn a flute of champagne, and he took a hearty sip.
‘I’m a model,’ Matty said.
Sure, why not?
‘A poet.’
That too.
‘A writer.’
Mhmm.
‘Got an acting gig coming up in the New Year, too.’ Matty smiled.
‘Who are you playing?’ Quinn asked.
‘I can’t share too many details right now. Contractual obligations.’
‘Food is almost ready,’ Noah interjected, and Quinn was relieved from hearing about the rest of Matty’s successes, and how much better he was at life.
He chose a seat at the other side of the table from Matty, keeping as much distance from him as possible. He shook the feeling of discontent for Matty’s chiselled face because Matty hadn’t done a thing to him.
Other than calling Noah his partner, of course.
Quinn drank a little too much of his champagne as Noah served dinner and, as a guest, was the first to receive a plate full of tantalising food. Four slices of turkey lay to one side of the plate, dressed in gravy. Cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, and peas created a burst of colour next to the meat, and potatoes of the boiled and roasted kind let off steam, which floated in front of Quinn’s face. His stomach rumbled when he eyed the fluffy Yorkshire pudding.
‘We have cranberry sauce.’ Hermione gestured to the condiments on the table.
‘I know this might be weird, but I’d prefer mint sauce.’ Quinn reached for the mint sauce, dropping some over his vegetables. ‘Maybe a dash of cranberry, too.’
Matty’s food came next, sparing of the food. Quinn noticed he didn’t have meat. ‘I’m a vegan.’
Why wouldn’t he be?His environment-saving diet had one-upped Quinn once again.
Noah served the rest of the food, then added gravy boats to the table. He returned, shedding his apron and sitting next to Quinn with his own plate, which was not sparing of the food and meat. Underneath the table, their knees brushed. Quinn’s eyebrow raised as he glanced at Noah, but Noah remained unreadable.
‘Cheers.’ Matty held out his own glass of champagne, and they all clinked their glasses together.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Quinn wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a pant as he leaned backwards. He wished this satisfied feeling in his body was from a sexual activity with the man next to him. Only it wasn’t: it was from sheer greed and gluttony. His plate sitting empty before him, his champagne full once more, and the announcement of dessert all made him consider his life choices.
Matty had baked vegan cakes, because of course he did, and he was now at the kitchen counter prepping the final touches, and if Quinn was not mistaken, rehearsing his lines under his breath.
‘That food was good,’ Quinn said to Noah and Hermione. His eyes found Noah’s. ‘You should be a chef.’
‘I enjoy cooking, but not enough to make it a career.’ Noah grinned, making Quinn want to melt. ‘Maybe if the books stop selling.’
‘They’ll never stop selling,’ a now-tipsy Hermione said.
‘Food always sells.’
‘It does.’ Noah nodded. ‘But I like having something with no pressure, no expectation. Capitalism these days makes you feel like everything has to be a commodity. The things you love to do need to be wrapped up and monetised. I don’t want food to become like that for me.’
