Brief silence.
“I always knew I wanted to go to art school,” he went on, constitutionally incapable of staying quiet. “It’s the only thing I like. That I’m good at, really. But if Gavin hadn’t opened the bakery, God, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. Probably something hideous, like graphic design in some corporate marketing department. I would hate that.”
“You don’t mind that your art doesn’t last?” Mace asked, his arm bumping Danny’s shoulder as they walked.
“No, I kind of love that part, actually,” Danny said, smiling too widely because it was an actual conversation now instead of just him, running off at the mouth. “I like knowing I’ve made something that makes people happy,” he explained. “And then of course, the fact that it’s edible art means that I’ll always have the chance to make more, so that’s a plus.”
They’d reached his building, and Danny propped a hip on the edge of the brick planter in front of the steps. He kind of wanted to invite Mace up, but he wasn’t confident enough after the night full of mixed signals. Or, at the moment, a total lack of signals. Mace held himself maddeningly still as he listened to Danny prattle on about work. Design details about some of the recent orders he’d done, Gavin’s growing success with the online side of the business, a few funny stories about customers. Danny knew he was talking too much, but he couldn’t seem to stop, as if he could prolong the magic of the night if he just talked fast enough.
Mace didn’t act like he minded, but he also didn’t contribute much besides a couple more hard-won smiles and the occasional “hm,” and eventually, Danny started to feel all kinds of self-conscious about dominating the air waves when he wasn’t even entirely sure that Mace wasn’t just humoring him by sticking around.
“So, I suppose I should let you go,” he made himself say, nibbling his lip as doubts suddenly threatened to swamp him. He’d probably read way too much into the actions of a really nice, distressingly attractive but probably straight guy. Danny swallowed, adding, “But, um, thanks? For walking with me, I mean. And for the pepper spray, too. And, God, for letting me talk your ear off. Sorry, about that. I guess I got—”
Hopeful.
Excited.
Brainwashed by a lifelong addiction to happily-ever-afters and a stubbornly optimistic belief that someday, my prince will come.
“—carried away,” Danny ended with instead, his heart inexplicably pounding as Mace held his gaze. “I hope… hope I didn’t bore you.”
“You don’t bore me, Danny,” Mace said quietly, the words followed by another one of those slow-smiles that made Danny’s heart do a little dance and all that hope he kept trying to talk himself out of burst forth in full bloom, filling his chest to overflowing.
And really, how pathetic was it that after they’d said goodnight—Mace waiting until Danny made it inside his building before leaving—Danny kept right on repeating those five little words to himself, as if they’d been something entirely different.
As if they’d meant all the things he’d be a fool to let himself start believing in.
As if, just maybe, “someday” wasn’t as far away as it had always seemed.
6
Mace
“…at the comedy club downtown, you know, by Veteran’s Park? And then Sherri said…”
Danny’s voice washed over Mace like a balm, lilting and laughing and filling him with that heady buzzing sensation that he couldn’t seem to stay away from. Didn’t even want to try to. Basking in the brightness that was Danny had become his favorite part of the day, and although neither one of them had talked about it, so far, Danny hadn’t objected when Mace showed up at the bakery to walk with him each evening.
It was Monday, and since Danny didn’t work on the weekends, it meant that Mace hadn’t seen him for the past two days.
Two days of feeling restless and irritable.
Of missing the man that he had no claim on.
So far, Mace had tried not to think too hard about what Danny was to him, or what he could be, but it was becoming unavoidable. Danny was always on his mind. He’d only been in Mace’s life for a few weeks, but after years of being content—safer—with nothing more than his own company, Mace’s days now felt incomplete if they didn’t include some of Danny’s bubbling enthusiasm. He found himself thinking far too much about the other man when they were apart. Wondering what Danny was doing, or noticing little things that he thought Danny would like, or just… wishing. Wishing that things were different.
Wondering if they could be.
Mace wanted to touch Danny. Wanted to rest his hand on the small of his back, the way he’d seen the bakery owner do that time through the window. Wanted to brush up against him as they walked, or reach out and capture Danny’s constantly moving fingers, lacing them between his own.
And also to do other, less innocent things.
A part of him tried to shy away from those thoughts, too used to shutting down any hint of what would have gotten his ass kicked growing up, but Helen had been right. He didn’t live in that old neighborhood anymore, didn’t surround himself with the type of people who would give a shit if he were to let himself act on any of the thoughts that were increasingly hard to get out of his head.
And even if there were anyone around to care what he did and who he did it with, well… fuck them. Mace didn’t have to answer to anyone, and he sure as hell wasn’t scared anymore the way he’d once been when another bright, beautiful boy had burst into his life once upon a time. Frankie. But that was the past. Danny was the present and, in Mace’s dreams, at least, maybe the future, too.
“Have you eaten?” Danny suddenly asked, darting a hummingbird look at him as pink stained his cheeks. “Like, dinner, I mean?”
Mace almost missed the question, lost in his own thoughts as they arrived at Danny’s apartment building. “Yeah,” he answered without thinking. “Earlier.”
“Oh,” Danny said, his smile dimming for a minute before he rallied. “Right. I mean, of course you have. God, it’s late. And I know you have to work in the morning, so—”
“But I’m getting a little hungry again,” Mace lied, cutting him off as he realized what, maybe, Danny had been getting at.
“Oh! You are?”
Danny lit right back up like sunshine, and Mace had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for him. He couldn’t stop his lips from curving up though, just a little, when Danny launched into one of the breathless rambles that never failed to charm him.
“Well, if you want… I mean, I always eat late because of work, right? So I was thinking, I mean, not that I really cook, but you could come up if you wanted. And I could make something for us to eat. You know, like dinner. Well, not necessarily an actual meal—did I mention I don’t cook all that much?—but like food, at least? That we could eat. Together. Since… since you’re hungry, too.”
Danny paused for breath, nibbling on his lower lip and looking up at Mace uncertainly, as if he actually thought there was a chance in hell that Mace would say no.
Mace honestly couldn’t imagine ever wanting to say no to Danny.
“Sounds perfect,” he said, knowing he was smiling again but unable to help it. The man was like a drug for him. Danny was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt, and not just outside—although most definitely that, too—but beautiful with an inner light that spilled out with his every word, every gesture, as if there was an endless well of optimism inside him that couldn’t be contained.
And nothing was better than the moments when Mace managed to give him something to smile about… but as soon as that thought surfaced, he had to tamp down an ugly surge of jealousy that followed hot on its heels.
Mace definitely wasn’t the only one Danny smiled for.
He’d seen him with the bakery owner—Gavin—a few times now, and each time it was obvious how close the two were. Danny’s stories were peppered with the other man’s name, and no matter how friendly Danny was, Mace couldn’t avoid
the obvious conclusion about Danny’s relationship with Gavin.
He followed Danny into the apartment building and up a set of stairs, letting himself drink in the sight of the graceful man’s willowy body. Wondering again what it would be like if he had the right to touch it. Wondering how to ask. And he really had to ask, because if Gavin and Danny were as close as Mace suspected, he was going to have to find a way to stop.
Stop wanting.
Stop hoping.
Just… stop.
But if they weren’t—
Mace clamped down on that thought hard and fast. No point hoping for things he might not—probably wouldn’t—be able to have. Beautiful things had never been for him, not to have and to hold and to keep. Well, at least, not before. The flowers he cared for were different, and a part of him wanted to believe Danny could be different, too. But hope… hope was a painfully dangerous thing.
Mace just needed to know.
He cleared his throat. “Do you live alone?” he asked as they stopped in front of what must be Danny’s apartment.
Danny looked looking back over his shoulder at Mace, nibbling that lip again. “Yes,” he answered with a self-conscious laugh, swinging the door open. He took in the colorful room on the other side with a sweep of his hand. “This is all me.” His cheeks turned Mace’s favorite shade of pink, and before Mace could do more than blink, he darted inside and across the room, obviously intent on tidying up the few things that were out of place. “I mean, obviously, right?” he added in a hot rush. “I know it’s a little much.”
Mace raised an eyebrow, taking in the space. It wasn’t too much, it was… Danny. An explosion of color and energy that filled the small room with life. The walls were covered by paintings, some of which bled off the canvas and right onto the boldly painted walls behind them. There were layers of things on every surface, cloth things and colorful things and knick knacks and beauty, all spilling over each other in vibrant profusion. The entire effect was welcoming and wonderful and a little bit dazzling.
“So… yeah. It’s just me here,” Danny said, twisting a soft-looking pastel blanket that had some sort of cartoon woman in a big dress on it between his hands before smoothing it over the back of the plush sofa. “I mean, can you actually imagine anyone else putting up with all this? Plus, God, I’m such a diva. I’d be horrible to live with.”
“No you wouldn’t,” Mace said. Mace had lived with every version of horrible that existed. Danny would be… the opposite.
And Gavin didn’t live with Danny. Whatever they were to each other... well, it was time to find out. Mace’s feet carried him across the room without any conscious volition, drawn toward Danny like a magnet and only stopping once he was close enough to reach out and touch the man that he couldn’t seem to stay away from. He didn’t, of course, not until he found out if Gavin already had a claim on him, or if… if Danny might welcome it.
“Mace?” Danny asked, his eyes going wide and his body going still. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, not nibbling it this time.
Staring up at Mace.
Waiting.
Mace’s ears got hot and his pulse sped up. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “I thought you might have lived with someone,” he said, pausing to clear his throat again and realizing he needed to be a little clearer. “You and your… Gavin.”
“Gav?” Danny’s laugh was explosive and he rolled his eyes, the expectant tension draining out of him. “God, no. I love the man, but just… no. I mean, we’ve definitely thought about it—we almost moved in together back when he opened the bakery—but luckily we both came to our senses. Do you know he goes in every morning at four a.m.? Four o’clock! In the morning. Which means he gets up at like, three. I couldn’t even. I would probably kill him if he ever woke me up that early.”
Mace held himself still, feeling like he’d been gut-punched as the tide of Danny’s words rolled over him and made him feel like he was drowning. He told himself he’d expected it, and he had—someone like Danny would never be for him—but for some reason, that didn’t seem to help.
He clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax it, doing his best to keep anything from showing on his face. He should have known better than to get his hopes up, and Danny deserved to be happy. Which he was. He loved Gavin. He’d confirmed it. And Mace… well, he wasn’t surprised.
But that didn’t stop him from being any less fucking disappointed.
“Are you… are you still hungry?” Danny asked, sounding breathless as he blinked up at Mace, one hand hovering right in front of his chest and making Mace wish, with everything he had, that it would come to rest on him, just for a moment.
“I’m still hungry,” Mace said even though his throat felt tight with his disappointment.
He took a step back. Danny was taken, and he wouldn’t try to interfere with that. He’d never been one to take what wasn’t his, and he knew all too well how it felt to be the one from whom something was taken. He wouldn’t be that guy, not ever. There were lots of things he wanted in life that he’d never be able to have and he’d survived enough disappointment to prove that it wouldn’t kill him.
As long as he remembered that, he’d still be able to enjoy Danny’s company.
They could still be friends.
Mace followed him into the kitchen, trying and failing to stop himself from noticing the graceful way the other man moved, the pulse that beat at the base of his throat, the little strip of pale skin that showed when he reached up to pull dishes out of one of the cupboards, making his shirt ride up as his voice ebbed and flowed around Mace like a warm tide, filling the small, colorful space with everything Mace couldn’t ever have.
Fucking fuck.
Mace couldn’t look away. He’d been trying not to notice Danny that way ever since he’d met him, but apparently, now that he knew for sure he’d never have him, his brain was rebelling.
Looking.
Wanting.
Imagining.
The whole time, letting himself see what hadn’t ever been there.
If Mace hadn’t known better, he could have convinced himself that Danny wanted him, too. The way the other man’s eyes constantly tracked him, the way his pupils dilated whenever Mace came near, the way his breath hitched and his hands sometimes almost-reached for him and that mouth of his… pretty and tempting and always in motion, calling Mace like a siren.
“Mace.”
Danny was staring up at him, his pale eyes looking more green than blue at the moment, sparkling with that irrepressible happiness that Mace wanted to drown in. His name had escaped Danny’s lips on a little exhalation that it was all too easy to imagine leaning down to taste. Without even realizing he’d moved, Mace had done it again, crowded close to Danny without realizing it, drawn as inescapably as a bee to nectar.
“Um, you…” Danny’s voice trailed off in a breathless little laugh.
He flattened a hand against Mace’s chest—finally, finally—making him suck in a sharp breath as that constant buzz of awareness he always felt around the bright, beautiful man pooled under the point of contact, burning into him and then shooting straight down to his cock, so hot and fast that he almost forgot himself.
“Mace,” Danny said again, his breath quickening as he licked his lips before going on.
Mace wanted to lick them, too.
Taste them.
Suck on them
Savor them.
“Okay, um, I’m just going to go ahead and ask you,” Danny said, his voice causing Mace’s eyes to jerk away from temptation.
“Yes,” Mace said, not sure what the question was. But… anything.
Danny’s hand was still on him, fingers trembling as his cheeks went pink. “Well, the thing is, sometimes you look at me like, um, like you want to—well, like now.” He huffed out a breath, then squared his shoulders, staring up at Mace intently. “Do you want… I mean, are you... God, maybe I should just ask if you’re even g—?”
Oh,
shit. Mace jerked away before Danny could get the question out, running a hand over his face and hoping like hell Danny didn’t notice the raging hard-on he was now sporting. Was that why he’d asked? He’d figured Mace out. Could tell Mace wanted more than Danny was offering. And fuck. Mace couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be around Danny without wanting what wasn’t his. Because the answer was yes. He may not have been sure about “gay,” if that was what Danny had been about to ask—was he when he’d been with Keslie and other girls?—but he definitely wanted. Whatever it was Danny had started to ask about, yes, Mace wanted it.
But he couldn’t have it.
“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t… I need to go.”
Danny looked stricken and Mace had to fight the desire to fix it. It wasn’t his place, and he would end up causing more harm than good if he tried. Danny loved Gavin, and if Mace stayed, he doubted he’d be able to stop himself from pushing for what he was finally ready to admit he wanted. What Danny had just called him out on.
And that… well, that would ruin whatever was still between them.
Friendship.
Sunshine.
The kind that, with Danny, Mace needed like air.
“Sorry,” he said again as he backed away, praying that it wasn’t already too late, because even if he couldn’t have Danny the way he wanted, he didn’t think he was strong enough to give him up completely. And maybe, hopefully—even if hope was proving to be dangerously addictive and always hurt in the end—if Mace left now, he could at least still have that.
The greenhouses at Woodward Park were a lush haven, warm and moist and bursting with life, and Mace had always liked spending time in them. But this time, he wasn’t paying attention to the profusion of new plants spilling from every surface, because in the middle of all of it was Danny.
It wasn’t the first time Mace had dreamt of Danny, but it was the first time the dream had given him what he really wanted. In the way of dreams, there were things Mace simply knew without them having to be spoken.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 8