Cary blushes, like the reality of his own awesomeness embarrasses him. I try hard not to feel like a loser, twenty-eight years old and still living with a roommate, with a job that pays the bills but doesn’t exactly secure me any kind of future.
No, that’s not true. I’m working toward my future. Saving up money. I have to keep reminding myself I’m not some loser who’s just floating through life, despite what my parents and exes have said.
“Bas, who you met on the phone, convinced me I should use some of my accrued hours and take a real vacation. I mean, it’s Hawaii, right? And even if I might be living here soon, it doesn’t hurt to play tourist first.”
“Nope, it definitely doesn’t hurt. So what do you want to do? Give me a list and we’ll see about checking things off.”
Cary chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. “Snorkeling and surfing, I guess? And trying Hawaiian food. Oh, I read somewhere that Hawaii has the only royal palace in the entire United States. Wouldn’t mind visiting that.”
“Yeah, the Iolani. We’ll have to see if there are any openings on Sunday, since they have local Kama’aina specials those days. But the other stuff we can do anytime. In fact, we could probably take down surfing and snorkeling on the same day.”
“You know how to surf?” Cary asks. The impressed look on his face makes me grateful I took the time to learn.
“Sure. I’m not a pro or anything, but I have a friend who’s a surf instructor. He gave me some lessons.” Friend seems to be accurate, since it’s been ages since Leslie and I hooked up. We met through mutual friends at a Chinese New Year event downtown and tried dating for a while, but Leslie wasn’t really a relationship kind of guy. I enjoyed his company and still hang out with him on occasion. “Maybe I’ll call him up tonight and see if he has a spot open this weekend to teach you. Unless you already know how.”
A bark of laughter from Cary. “Hell no. But yeah, I’d like to learn. Oh, shit, that’s really starting to burn.”
I mutter a curse of my own, snapping up my tongs to flip over a piece of meat that had begun to char. Cary does the same with some other pieces that were smoking on the grill.
“I thought you were a pro at this, Fei,” Cary chides playfully, lifting a burnt piece of meat off the grill and setting it on his plate.
“My bad.”
“It’s okay. The char marks give it flavor.”
“Sure, let’s go with that.” We snicker at each other over the smoking grill and begin to eat.
* * *
Figuring Cary probably wants some alone time after a long flight, I drive him back to his hotel room when we finish with our lunch. I hesitate for a moment as we near our destination, unaccountably nervous.
“So about tonight,” I begin, my eyes fixed to the road. “I booked us a dinner reservation. Your friend said to choose someplace romantic, and… well, it’d be impossible to find a place on Valentine’s for dinner otherwise. I don’t want you to settle for fast food on your first night, but…” I cast a quick glance in Cary’s direction. “We could still grab you some take-out if you’re not up for it.”
I’m careful to keep my tone light, like I don’t care whether Cary chooses to go to dinner or not. And you shouldn’t care. It isn’t a real date. Doesn’t matter that it’s Cary Jackson.
Cary takes a few seconds to consider. I’ve convinced myself he’s going to turn me—this, not me, this—down when he answers, “Bas did pay to give me the date-slash-tour guide experience, right?”
“Yup,” I say. “Wouldn’t want to waste Bas’ hard-earned money,” I add.
At this, Cary gives a little chuckle. “Truthfully, Bas probably hasn’t worked all that hard to earn the money. He’s a trust fund kid.”
“Gay, I’m assuming?”
“Um, yeah. He’s gay too.”
I can see the question has made Cary uncomfortable somehow, much more uncomfortable than the prospect of a fake date with a guy. “What does this Bas guy look like, and is he ever visiting you?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s not good date etiquette to express interest in someone’s best friend. Just so you know.” The little mock-growl that comes from Cary shouldn’t make arousal zing through my veins the way it does. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and try to calm the fuck down.
“Sorry, baby,” I reply, pitching my voice low and sultry, giving as good as I got. “I’ve only got eyes for you. You never have to worry about that, you know. Just look at you.”
And okay, so that isn’t exactly me just playing around. You really only have to look at Cary in that white T-shirt, which would look amazing wet and clinging to his abs, to forget anyone else even exists.
“Is this the date experience, then?” Cary asks huskily, blinking slowly at me like he’s never seen me before.
I dial up the fake charm, smarmy grin back in place. “Yup. But that’s just a taste. Gonna show you a real good time tonight. For our date.”
Cary laughs, dropping my gaze as his hand finds the door handle. “Looking forward to it.”
Chapter Three
Cary
I nap most of the afternoon. When I wake up I take another shower, then spend way too much time debating what I should wear to dinner with Fei.
Business casual? Fei said when I texted him about it. A nice button-down is fine. No jacket. Also no slippers—uh, flip flops—or board shorts or anything.
I choose a blue shirt Bas once told me looked killer with my eyes, paired with dark gray slacks. I even style my hair and spritz on a spicy cologne I only wear out on special occasions.
When the knock on the door comes, I hurriedly finish buckling my belt and go to answer it.
On the other side, Fei stands there looking like he’s stepped out of a fashion magazine, in a printed short-sleeved button-down and black pants. His hair is gelled and he smells citrusy, like he’s just eaten an orange. I want to lean in and kiss him, see if he tastes like oranges too.
Resisting the impulse, and to cover up how long I’ve been staring at him, I joke, “What, no more flowers?”
“You only had one vase in that tiny cupboard,” Fei says, shrugging. His eyes light up as he looks me over from head to toe, and he utters a soft groan. “You clean up real nice.”
“Yeah?” Heat creeps up my neck at the blatant appreciation in his tone. How many times after that encounter in high school had I thought about his dark gaze sweeping over me just like this?
“Yup.” Fei gives an emphatic nod, unashamedly checking me out. It feels good to be the subject of all that admiration. “Rolled up shirt sleeves, FYI, totally compliment your forearms. Which, kudos, man. You look just as buff as you did when you were on the football team.”
“You like football players, huh?” I blurt as I step out into the hall and follow Fei to the elevator. It was the wrong thing to say, because it only makes me think about one particular football player, and that isn’t what I want to think about right now, when we’re getting ready to go to our fake date. That, and Fei’s shoulders stiffen momentarily at my words.
He relaxes so immediately I think maybe I imagined it. “Yeah,” he says dryly, his back still to me. “My incurable attraction to jocks. It’s been known to backfire on me in the past.”
Okay. Subject broached. “I take it things didn’t work out with Dax?”
Fei slants a small smile in my direction. “I think the fact he took Carissa Jenkins to senior prom and the next day everyone knew they’d fucked kinda implied things didn’t work out.”
“Shit. I’d forgotten about that.” God, he must think I’m an asshole.
But Fei only looks even more amused. “Yeah. I don’t think it was ever really about him. Don’t think he was even gay. It’s just tough for a teenage boy to turn down a blowjob.” At this, Fei looks away, jabbing at the L button once we get into the elevator. “Anyway, he wasn’t the person I really wanted.”
Who did you want? I almost ask. Mostly I want him to tell me it was me. That
he wanted me the way I wanted him back at school. But it’s foolish to think that way, when Fei has never looked my way. I would’ve known if he had.
Still, the temptation to ask is great, which is why I almost breathe a sigh of relief when we arrive at the lobby and the elevator doors slide open.
We don’t reopen the conversation about high school and Daxton Hutch as Fei drives us to Roy’s, a high-end restaurant that, Fei informs me, has a good fusion of local Asian cuisine. It’s all much nicer than any date I’ve ever been on before, white tablecloths and dim, tasteful lighting, with rose petals scattered on the tables in honor of the holiday.
“Bas is paying for all this?”
Fei inclines his head. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth, man.”
I grin, scanning the cocktail menu the waiter left us. “Not planning to. These drinks look good.”
“Have as many drinks as you want.” Fei urges. “You’re on vacation, and you’ve got a designated driver right here.”
“You’re not gonna have one drink?”
I don’t really want to be drinking all by myself, and Fei must see my dismay, because he shrugs, snatching up the other cocktail menu.
“Maybe just one.”
Fei keeps his promise, nursing his one merlot for half the meal and refusing another when the waiter comes to get me a refill on my Jack & Coke.
“Damn, you’ve got to try this,” he says at one point, leveling a forkful of something on his plate at me. Feeling daring, I open my mouth and lean in to take a bite directly off his fork.
Fei beams at me, candlelight making his eyes sparkle. The scent of his cologne is just discernible over the aroma of our food, the citrus a bright accent to the other flavors. “Good, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling back. “Food’s amazing.” The company’s even better.
We spend the entire evening talking about everything and nothing. I tell Fei about meeting Bas in college and getting my first job, moving steadily up in the ranks at the marketing firm which currently employs me. I feel gratified every time one of my ad-gone-wrong stories elicits a laugh from him.
Fei, in turn, entertains me with dating mishaps. The stories are funny enough I don’t even get jealous at the thought of Fei with other guys. It helps they were all fake dates.
Like this is a fake date.
I really need to stop wanting it to be more than that. Because that’s creepy and sad and just stupid.
“M’gonna have another drink,” I tell our waiter when he comes by next. Fei doesn’t stop me, just watches with amused tolerance as I down my third drink of the night.
I’m still slightly tipsy by the end of the evening, which is what prompts Fei to park his car in the hotel garage instead of dropping me off out front in the lobby.
“Gonna give me a goodnight kiss as part of the date experience?” I joke as he leads me to the elevator.
He blinks his long lashes, silently laughing. “Sure, whatever you want. Let’s just make sure you get to the right room first, huh?”
I’m a big guy, and I had to do a lot of drinking with advertising clients in the past six years. I hold my liquor well enough that by now I’m barely tipsy. I could tell him all this. Instead, I let him lead me all the way to my room.
I get the door unlocked and lean against the doorframe as Fei stands in front of me, fond amusement softening his brown eyes.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, rather formal. “Hope it didn’t turn out too badly.” I catch a touch of vulnerability in his expression, which makes me want to reach out to him, reassure him that yes, goddamnit, this was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
Creepy and sad and stupid, remember?
I heave a sigh. "I have a confession."
Fei tilts his head expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
I steel myself, taking a deep breath before announcing: “I'm gay.”
Silence for a few beats, and then Fei’s mouth opens. “I … didn’t expect that. Is this, like, a coming out for you? Are you coming out to me?”
“Yes. I mean no.” Shit, I’m fucking this up. Should’ve owned up right from the start, but it was easy to let assumptions be, at first. “I mean I’ve been gay for… well, I guess all my life. But I’ve been out for a while. Since college.”
“Oh,” is all Fei says.
I lean into the door frame and hide my face against my forearm. “Yeah, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you right away.”
Fei, to my surprise, chuckles. “Because it's kind of awkward, right? You've seen me with my mouth around another dude's dick. Weird if you’re a straight guy, but as another gay guy?”
“Right,” I croak. “That.” That was the reason it was so difficult to own up to my sexuality with Fei. Because admitting that would be admitting what I saw might’ve been… stimulating for me. And that is just. Man.
“It’s okay,” Fei assures me. “It’s a gay thing.”
“Huh?”
Fei makes an expansive gesture. “You know. Having to come out to yet another person.”
Yeah, I guess we all understand that. God, Fei’s being so kind, even after I so awkwardly left out some key information about myself.
He’s determined to continue being kind, apparently, because he laughs, reaching up to clap me on the shoulder. A gesture of camaraderie. “Don’t look so nervous, man. It’s fine. Although now I kind of judge you for not jumping my bones as a teenager.”
It’s clearly meant as a joke, but my mind is already on all the instances when I wanted to do just that. Or maybe it’s just on that one particular instance. “Did you want me to?” I choke out, feeling my face go red again.
“Is that a trick question?” Still in that teasing tone of voice. Slow blink of his eyes and the upward curve of his full lips. Everything telling me he wanted it. Wanted me.
I clear my throat, so thick with nervous anticipation my fingers tingle with it. “Does the date experience really come with a goodnight kiss?”
He’s staring at me with wide eyes, like I’ve suddenly begun speaking some foreign language he doesn’t really understand. Then, after another long, slow blink of his dark eyelashes, he nods. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
His words are whispered, and so I whisper back as I lean in, one hand still gripping the doorframe tight. “Okay, then.” The other hand lands on his shoulder, to steady myself, or maybe to steady him. The movement forward seems to last for ages, our eyes locking, our breaths mingling for long moments before I pause just short of contact.
I wait, not wanting to close that last bit of distance without getting explicit permission first.
Just as I’m about to pull away again, Fei moves, meeting me the rest of the way.
And we’re kissing.
Chapter Four
Fei
Bad idea. This is such a bad idea.
The thought pings around in my head, making it buzz. It doesn’t seem to stop me from tipping my head that last tiny inch. Cary’s lips are warm and dry and perfect, slotting against mine like we’re two puzzle pieces that just fucking fit. A deep press, and then one or either of us open our lips, and the kiss gets wetter. Hotter. Cary tastes so good, like the minty chocolates we were given with our check at the end of the evening. There’s something else there, too, the faintest hint of something like… whiskey.
Shit. See? Bad idea.
I pull back, licking my own lips to chase the flavor of his mouth, even as guilt tackles me. Cary mumbles something about oranges, and I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “You’re still drunk.”
How could I forget that very significant detail? I’ve been the designated driver for countless dates, and I’ve never once taken advantage of a guy like that. Never once just assumed it was okay to—
“Not drunk.” Cary’s hand comes up to touch his mouth, an adorably slack-jawed expression on his face. “Little buzzed, maybe? But not drunk.”
“Good.” I refuse to let myself feel be
tter about this. Especially not when Cary’s kiss-swollen lips are still right there, distracting me from my own thoughts. I take a step backward, putting some distance between us so I can’t just reach out and haul him down for another kiss. “I’d better go before they close down the freeway.”
Cary frowns, but he stays right where he is. Which is good, because apparently I can’t be trusted to act like a professional. “Right now?”
“There’s overnight construction from nine till morning.” Which isn’t a lie. “Always fucks up traffic getting home.” Considering how close I live to Waikiki, road work on the freeway doesn’t really affect me. But Cary never has to know that.
“Oh,” he says, disappointment clear in the way he swallows, his eyes lingering on my face. “Okay. Um. Drive safely.”
“Have a good night, all right?” I say, trying not to hate how resigned Cary sounds. Trying not to be disappointed myself he doesn’t insist I stay. “Drink lots of water.”
He gives a half-hearted eyeroll. “I told you. Not drunk.”
“Nevertheless. Please humor me.”
He nods, his blue eyes taking me in for a moment. “Good night, Fei.”
“Good night, Cary.”
* * *
When I get back to the apartment after a drive spent berating myself for fucking up so badly with Cary, Bridget is on the couch watching The Bletchley Circle. I make straight for her, crawling under the blanket with her.
“Tough day?” she asks as I lean against her, my head on her shoulder.
I grunt. “That lucrative four nights paid, sight-unseen gig I had for this weekend?”
“Yeah?” She reaches for the remote and pauses Bletchley Circle. We debated the pros and cons of accepting the booking, since it was unusual for a client to pay for so much time all at once.
“His best friend booked it as a prank.”
Kissed in Paradise: Valentine’s Inc. #9 Page 3