Heartsville 04 - Clique (Jayden Brooks) (3 page)

“Excuse me.”

Since my gaze was locked on Brandon’s mouth, I knew someone else had spoken. I just didn’t give enough fucks to swivel my head away from my view of his lips. My lack of response is entirely responsible for the whirlwind that followed.

“Um, hello. Sorry to interrupt, but the girl from the theater suggested I speak with you guys. Adam. I want Adam. Well, not want-want.” The mystery voice chuckled. “Gia said Adam could give me what I need. She kinda pointed this way, but she was lugging an armful of props, so I could be wrong, but you’re the only men by the bench with a dog. I should introduce myself. I’m Milo Hart.”

Have you ever seen an animal of prey freeze when it’s been sighted by a predator intent on gobbling it whole? That’s what I did. And fine, it had nothing to do with fear. I was making the most of my time in Brandon’s personal space—cataloging his facial features, his mouth in particular.

He had a great beard. It wasn’t overly sculpted, but it wasn’t out of control either. The best part was the way his stashe and soul-patchy thing framed his lips, highlighting their every movement. Whether he was aware of it or not, I really dug the flirty way he grinned and moistened his lips until they glistened. I flicked my gaze up to find Brandon’s denim blue eyes twinkling down at me. Yep, he did that lip lick on purpose. My tummy flipped, and my dick chubbed.
Oh my God.
We were having a moment to a soundtrack of Milo Hart rambling. It worked. I decided then I was going to be sweet Milo’s biggest fan.

But before I could get too excited, the perfect moment unraveled before my eyes when Brandon broke our soul-gaze to look over my shoulder. The brutal return from fantasyland came in time for Milo’s next comment to filter through my brain.

“Gosh, you’re really handsome.” His voice trembled before he cleared his throat. “Are you Adam?”

I jerked around. He had my attention now.

Listening to him chatter, I had begun to form a mental picture of Milo. The flirty words had that picture morphing into twink-on-the-prowl. But the young man before me—wearing faded jeans and a long-sleeved Henley highlighting his sculpted physique—was 100 percent adorable innocence. The cuteness and the killer body made for quite the combo. Maybe sweet Milo needed to skedaddle.

“Oh wow. You’re both hot,” he burst out.

Yep, he needed to vamoose.

Unfortunately, Milo wasn’t reacting as one would hope to the dark scowl I sent his way. He merely amped his smile so bright he practically oozed charm. No scowl stood a chance against the human equivalent of excited puppies romping in a meadow of tall grasses and wildflowers. I was destined to like him.

I stood reluctantly, my knees protesting the prolonged squat. “Hi, Milo. I’m Adam.”

His gaze darted from me to Brandon and back again. “Wait. I thought Gia said you were a photographer. Did she mean model? Because I needed to talk to the guy who owns the studio. Well, I suppose he doesn’t have to own the studio, but I prefer to promote local businesses whenever possible.”

Milo glanced at Hamlet, who had settled on a spot to lie down, and gave the pooch a little finger wave. Milo was too cute for words. I mean, really.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at Milo. Me, model? Maybe for the JC Penny juniors catalogue. I shook my head. “I’m both. Photographer and owner of the studio. What can I help you with?”

As Brandon rose to his feet, I fully expected him to make a break for freedom. Between my weirdness, and now the interruption, I figured he’d be vapor in seconds. He stayed. I was pleased. More than.

Milo wasted no time and launched into an eager ramble which boiled down to a business proposal of sorts. And since it was similar to agreements I had in place with other proprietors in the “gayborhood,” I agreed to discuss it further and scheduled a time to meet with Milo and his boss at the flower shop.

Once his spiel was complete, I thought he’d be on his way, but instead he crouched down to pet Hamlet. “Are you guys heading to Three Sheets tonight? I overheard some of the Oasis troupe say they were planning to have a few drinks and burgers after rehearsal.” He scrunched his nose and admitted, “I don’t really know any of them, but they seem like a fun crowd to hang out with. And if you guys were going and didn’t mind me horning in on your date, we could all go together.”

Date? What date?

Just as I was about to correct him, Brandon nudged his shoulder into mine and announced, “Sounds like a plan. What time?”

Wait. What?

“Great.” Milo bounced up. Swear to God, he bounced, then pulled out his phone to check the time. “They said seven o’clock. That’ll give me plenty of time to convince Will to come out with us.” His lips firmed, and his eyes took on a calculating gleam. “Okay, see you later.” He darted across the street and within moments he was out of sight.

Will didn’t stand a chance. Not a single one. None of us did.

I let my gaze travel to Bookmarked. It was highly unlikely that Mark had stuck around to watch; he had customers to assist. Which reminded me of my promise to send revised drafts to a graphic-design client before end of business hours, but I was reluctant to walk away. What if I imagined that zing of mutual awareness? What if the relaxed version of Brandon was only due to Milo’s presence?

That spurred an unpleasant thought. Did Brandon agree to the date in order to hang with Milo? I swung to face Brandon. “I have to get back to work. Will I see you later?” Smooth, right? Asking without asking. Feel free to take notes.

The left side of his mouth lifted in an amused curl. “Of course. We have a date.”

Generally I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but his sudden thaw required some sort of explanation. “What changed?” I had to know. If only so I could repeat whatever had caused it in the first place.

He scratched the side of his jaw and tilted his head. “Me, I guess. You presented a compelling argument to correct my hasty and unfair judgment.” He mused as he gently took hold of my bicep and we began walking with him acting as guide.

Huh? What did I miss?
“Argument? What argument?”

We stopped, his attention momentarily split between me and something else. “You really need to learn how to multitask.”

What was that now?
“Multitask?” When he urged me forward again, I refused to move.

He grumbled. “You’ll walk into the street without looking, but when it’s clear you stop.”

I glanced around and realized we were about to cross the street. My studio was less than thirty feet away. “Focusing isn’t always my strong suit.”
When I’m not working, and when a hot guy announces we have a date.

“This, coming from a photographer.” He snorted.

Okay, he had a point.

We walked up to the side door of the studio. On autopilot, I dug out my keys. There were thoughts and questions lining up and vying for top billing. Only one mattered right then. “What argument?”

“The one where you told me, ‘I’m an adult, I’m a self-employed and stable member of the business community, and I think you’re hot.’”

“That’s not what I said, or how I said it, I huffed.

With a wicked grin, he inched closer, grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt and tugged until I our chests were pressed together. Leaning in, he whispered, “Then there was something about sucking and assholes.”

My body and brain finally synced up in a chorus of hallelujahs.

His soft-bearded cheek glided against my smooth one, and in a husky undertone, he murmured, “You had me at ‘sucking.’” And he nipped my earlobe.

My dick twitched an impressive “amen.” The rest of me, however, finally caught on to his teasing and I burst out laughing in surprise. I loved it. This playful and unguarded side of Brandon was unexpected and only added another layer to his appeal.

I was still chuckling as I unlocked and opened the door, revealing the staircase leading to my apartment.

Hamlet poked his head around my knee and inched forward until the leash held securely in Brandon’s hand pulled taught. “Sorry, bud, no time for a visit today. It’s time for you to head home.” To me, he asked, “Should I meet you here or at the pub?”

Once we settled the logistics, we traded numbers and agreed to meet where we stood and head to the pub together.

With one last glance at the duo, I bolted up the stairs to my apartment. Once safely inside, I froze in the middle of the open space and replayed the last thirty minutes. The largest, dopiest grin had taken over my face. My cheeks hurt. What I did next came as natural as breathing.

I called Mark. The moment he answered, I blurted, “You’re fucking brilliant.”

Four

My bed was a disaster. There were clothes strewn everywhere, discarded in clumps on the floor, and I was a sweaty mess. Can you say wardrobe crisis? With only thirty minutes to spare, I darted for a quick shower and dressed in the original outfit I had chosen in the first place. With one last look in the mirror to check my teeth, I tied up my boots and shot off a text to Mark promising to let him know how it went.

Exiting my apartment, I had a moment’s hesitation about leaving my bedroom in such a state of disarray. What if we came back to my place? I snorted to myself. There wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d let a dirty bedroom be a roadblock to naked time with Brandon. The rest of the apartment was neat and organized, with plenty of walls to pin me against if he was so inclined. Then there was my luxury bathroom. So we had options. And clearly I had a monster helping of hope for the evening.

***

Three Sheets is a chill gayborhood pub. They cater to an eclectic crowd, offering a wide selection of brews ranging from standard to seasonal, and their menu is simple but solid—all of which made it a favorite hangout for me and Mark.

The walk from my place to the pub was spent with me answering Brandon’s questions about the studio and my work as a graphic designer.

We caught sight of Milo and his companion chatting with the doorman. As we walked up, I noticed Milo feeling around his pockets, muttering, “Give me a sec, I have it.” He patted and searched his jean pockets before moving on to checking his jacket. “It’s here somewhere.” His cheeks flushed, and he glanced miserably at the man standing off to his right. He gasped, and his face brightened. “Aha! Here it is. I always forget the inside pocket of this jacket.”

I couldn’t help but be amused by Milo’s antics. His rambles were growing on me. Milo excitedly introduced us to Will, the owner of Bloom Box. When Will wasn’t aware, Milo watched him with soft eyes and a gentle curve to his lips, thoroughly smitten.

Adorable.

My amusement lasted until the doorman asked for my ID. I handed over my driver’s license and muttered, “At this point I’ll be retired before people stop carding me.”

Beside me, Brandon chuckled. “I get the feeling this is a recurring theme.”

I grumbled, “That would be an understatement.”

He gave me a once-over and nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything further. That pleased me; I hated when someone tried to placate me, or worse, chastise me for being frustrated by something they considered a gift beyond measure. Yeah, I got it. I really did. My libido, however, did not. It wanted me to get manhandled by a big toppy guy.

The pub was packed when we entered, more than what was typical midweek. The Oasis troupe had come en masse. I recognized quite a few faces and made a point to introduce Milo and Will around. Before long they were swallowed by the crowd.

I turned to check Brandon’s progress at the bar and found him holding two drafts while speaking to an older couple I recognized as owners of the nearby Heartsville Animal Hospital.

He caught sight of me, excused himself, and headed my way. “There’s an open booth.”

After we were finally seated in a booth situated away from the more boisterous patrons, Brandon slid a draft across the table. I took a sip and shot him a curious look as I swallowed.

“Pumpkin ale,” he provided. “I didn’t know if you had a drink of choice. Do you like it?”

Nodding, I took a deeper draw before sucking at the foam on my upper lip. I never would have selected it for myself, but it was quite tasty. Mark would be so impressed with my trying something new. Of course, I hadn’t done so intentionally, but there you go. “I’ve never had it before.”

Silence descended, and all of a sudden I felt awkward as hell. Now what? I scrambled for something to say. “How many animals do you have?”

“None,” he answered easily, but didn’t elaborate further.

Okay. His one word response confused the heck out of me, but I’m a tenacious guy. I wasn’t giving up at the first hurdle. I thought for a few moments, searching for a question that couldn’t be satisfied with a single-word answer. “What’s the story with the different animals?”

He took the first sip of his draft and smacked his lips a few times like he was trying to decide if he liked it or not. He shrugged slightly, then volunteered, “That’s unusual.” He was referring to the drink, but I read it for what it was—buying time.