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ADAM
Devon pours more wine into my glass and motions for the server. We’re at a new Italian restaurant on the Upper West Side. I’d originally balked at the location because of the distance from my house, but it’s beginning to feel like Devon’s choice was intentional to get me out of the Village for a few hours to distract me from thinking about Nick.
“How’s the bass?” Devon leans forward. “It looks almost as scrumptious as the bartender.”
My eyes dart toward the handsome twentysomething tending bar. He resembles Ryan Gosling, with a heart-shaped face, crystal blue eyes and sandy hair that gleams with pomade. I’d definitely fuck him once, but he looks thinner and bonier than the kind of man I’d be into for a long-term connection. The bartender smiles when he catches me checking him out, but I shift back to Devon.
“It’s okay,” I tell my friend. “How’s your bunny wabbit?”
He laughs and raises his wine glass. “Here’s to your twisted sense of humor, Adam, and to our prospects when we go dancing after this.”
“I’m not going dancing,” I say after we touch glasses and drink some wine. “I turn into a pumpkin after midnight.”
He cocks one brow. “Some boys like that sort of thing, you know. They’re into smooth, ribbed daddies filled with seeds and pulp.”
“You’re disgusting,” I hiss through a grin. “But I imagine that you’re right.”
“Sounds like Nick was into somebody more like you.” He pauses to nip at his wine. “I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned.”
I shrug. “Never say never.”
Devon laughs. “Too true. It’s all that hope springs eternal shit, right? The sun’ll come out tomorrow. Look on the bright side of life. Stop the world, I want to get off.”
“I don’t know if that last one fits, Dev.”
He glowers. “This is my playlist, jackass. It fits if I say it fits.”
I’ve seen the flash of mischievous indignation in his eyes before, so I know it’s time to drink some wine and leave him alone for a few minutes. Devon’s one of the most high-strung, fussy people that I know, but he’s also my most loyal friend. He’s seen me on top of the world and smashed to bits in the valley below. I’ve learned that his mercurial moods and brief outbursts are part of the total package. They balance his optimism, joyful spirit and steadfast devotion.
“What would you have done if the tables were turned?” Devon asks after the brief conversational respite.
I smile. “What tables?”
“Don’t be difficult,” he warns, adding a bristly edge to his voice. “You know what I’m talking about; if you were the younger guy that saw your would-be daddy groping another handsome guy through the window.”
For a brief second, my mind fills with rude things that I could say to my friend. I’m not Nick. I’m no longer twenty-three. And I was never in that sort of situation. But then I admit to myself that Devon’s right about me being difficult. I agreed to dinner because I didn’t want to sit alone at home, ordering Chinese and watching Notting Hill for the millionth time by myself. It’s been my standard escape whenever it feels like I’ll forever be the guy trapped in a disastrous relationship or searching for someone to build a life with. I used to believe that was Brent. And even though there were fissures and the occasional argument, I never changed that belief until he walked out the door.
“So?” Devon brings me back to the present moment. “What would you have done?”
I offer a fizzy grin. “The exact same thing, of course. And you know very well that I actually did that once back in Omaha.”
Devon squints. “You did?”
“Remember the bar in the Old Market where we’d go on Friday nights?”
“The one by the candy store?” he asks.
“Right next to it,” I say. “We were there one night when it started to snow really heavily and my car wouldn’t start. When you went inside to use the phone and call a tow truck, I sat behind the wheel, feeling like an idiot for ignoring my mother’s warning about the forecast. I had to work at six the next morning in Lincoln, and things were looking totally fucked. But then—”
“Oh, shit!” Devon jumps in. “Then that silver fox in the BMW offered to jump your battery and you guys ended up fucking in his office up the street.”
My heart sinks at the memory. I was barely twenty, eager to explore the world now that I was finally living on my own. After a disastrous attempt at dating a classmate named Alicia, I’d discovered the courage to claim my truth and come out to my friends and family.
That night during the snowstorm, after he dropped Devon at his brother’s house and we went back to his office, the hunky guy in the BMW—an insurance executive named Kyle with emerald eyes, a lean, muscular build and a fat, veiny cock—invited me to his house the following weekend. He gave me specific instructions about when to arrive and where to park. I was so naïve that I didn’t realize the explicit details were designed to keep his neighbors from knowing that he was hooking up with a college student while his wife was at her weekly book club meeting. When I pulled into the drive at Kyle’s house a few minutes early, his wife asked me why I was blocking the garage because she was running late. Since I was young and cocky and more than a little arrogant, I told her that I was there to meet my new boyfriend.
“And they did not live happily ever after,” Devon says with an exuberant laugh. “Remember how hurt you were? I think it was probably six months before you’d even consider going out to the bars with everyone.”
I glare at him. “It wasn’t that long, you goof. It was a month at the most.”
“Whatever,” he replies. “Your precious little heart was shattered. And you were crushed by the duplicity.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is simple,” Devon answers. “Nick was probably excited to spend time with you again. But when he saw you with your arms wrapped around Liam, his brain decided that you were guilty until proven innocent because of his recent experience with his ex.”
I shake my head. “I don’t buy it. Not one bit. If he thought that was the case, he should’ve asked me directly that night.”
Devon’s laugh is high-pitched and annoying. “Oh, please!” He clasps his hands together and holds them against his chest. “Aren’t you just the most precious thing? Did you do that with Mr. Cheating On His Wife back at home?”
“That was different,” I say, flashing back to the long ago scene in Kyle’s driveway. “I was confused.”
“And hurt,” Devon adds. “Just like Nick’s feeling right now.”
“But he’s not a child,” I say. “He should’ve had the balls to ask me about Liam.”
“Judge not,” Devon says with a playful sneer, “lest ye be judged.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demand. “Am I judging Nick because he assumed that Liam and I were somehow involved?”
Devon’s mouth puckers. “Well, hallelujah! I believe that you’ve seen the light, Mr. Coleman.”
“So you’re telling me that I’m supposed to reach out to Nick again?”
The puckered lips slide into a silly grin. “Uh-huh. That’s exactly what I’m saying. If what you’ve told me is truly how you feel—that you sensed some kind of special spark with Nick—then you better fucking climb down from the high horse that you’re riding in your ivory tower to call the boy and invite him to dinner so you can talk.”
“Dinner?”
“Or a coffee,” Devon says. “That part doesn’t really matter. The important thing is getting a chance to sort out this little wrinkle.”
I think about the idea for a couple of seconds. But before I can tell Devon that I’ve actually been considering the very same thing in the back of my mind, he starts chattering again.
“You know that I’m right,” he says. “I can see it on your adorable little face, big guy.”
I groan. “Yeah, you are. And if I promise to reach out to Nick as soon as we finish dinner, will you promise to never again call me ‘big guy’?”
Devon giggles again. “Not a fucking chance,” he says. “Because I love to see you flinch every time that I do!”