String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  Jax swallowed. “I need to do it if I’m going to go back and finish. But it’s… hard. It keeps bringing up unpleasant memories. Well, actually, most of the memories are good, except that then I remember Grayling is dead and I’m a failure—”

  “Jax—”

  “Yeah, I know, blah blah, not my fault, whatever.” He huffed. “The good news is the freezer is full?”

  “As long as you’re not going to make seven kinds of cookies again.” Hobbes patted his stomach. “I’m still working off the last ones.”

  “No cookies,” Jax promised. Maybe zucchini bread. Banana muffins? “Actually, speaking of stuffing myself—”

  “Please don’t.”

  Jax stuck out his tongue. “I wanted to let you know Ari and I have a date on Monday. So you’re on your own for dinner.”

  “Yeah? Nice, kid. No sweat, though. I was going to go to Naomi and Kayla’s. They’re having that thing for Naomi’s birthday.”

  “Oh, yeah, the potluck. Naomi mentioned it.”

  “So, a date… I take it this is serious?”

  Oooh, he didn’t like how Hobbes asking that made him feel. Like he was talking to a parental figure, but it was also Hobbes, the best friend he had a weirdly codependent relationship with and who until recently he’d sometimes thought about naked. Jax never had daddy issues before Grayling died. Just one more way Covid had screwed him over. “Cautiously optimistic yes?”

  “Wonders never cease.” Hobbes looked at him shrewdly. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”

  Like was certainly one word for it. By now Hobbes had heard enough stories of Jax’s misspent youth—and seen his phi tattoo, which had begun life as a Y for Yolanda—to know all about Jax’s habit of falling in love too hard, too fast. “I do,” he admitted. “And for once, we seem to be on the same page.”

  “Yeah? Glad to hear it.” Then he cleared his throat and put on an authoritative voice. “You just make sure he treats you right and has you home by ten.”

  Well, if the intentional dad impression didn’t kill off any lingering sex feelings, nothing would. Jax shuddered internally, but he couldn’t let on that some part of his brain was screaming augh, no and reaching for the bleach, so he batted his eyelashes instead. “Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to get to bed early.”

  He was gratified when Hobbes groaned and tilted his face skyward. “Can’t believe I walked into that one.”

  ARI HAD only just changed into his good clothes—dress pants he’d been reliably informed showed off his assets at their best and a wine-red cashmere sweater—when Jax knocked on the door.

  Jax looked positively delectable in a blue button-up the same shade as his eyes and gray slacks Ari wanted to peel off with his teeth. Jax gave him slow elevator eyes. “Yum.”

  “The sentiment is reciprocated,” Ari said. Then he pressed a sensual kiss to Jax’s mouth.

  Jax was tangling his fingers in Ari’s loose curls when Ari pulled back. “As much as I would love to rip you out of these,” he murmured, “we did talk about doing a proper date this evening.”

  With a groan, Jax stepped back and straightened his clothes. “Okay, right. Date. Not starting with the bed.”

  “I made a reservation at Pepitas. If we leave now, we should arrive within plenty of time.”

  Ari guided Jax from the apartment with a hand to the small of his back and led him to the sidewalk. “I thought it might be best to walk. It’s only five minutes.”

  Jax waved for him to lead the way. “So how did you manage to get a reservation at this place on such short notice?”

  Pepitas was one of London’s hottest restaurants. “I know a guy.”

  “Being mysterious, huh? All right. I can wait.”

  Jax asked after Ari’s family as they wound their way to the restaurant. Not wanting to talk about the awkward meal he’d spent with them on the weekend—Afra had invited Theo—during which his parents cast unhappy looks in Ari’s direction but refused to discuss the tension in front of a guest, Ari shrugged and said they were fine.

  Jax accepted the answer and, to Ari’s relief, didn’t ask any more questions. Instead he launched into the story of the time he met Hobbes’s parents for a home-cooked meal, which took them the rest of the walk.

  At the restaurant, Ari gave his name, and Hello, I’m Sophie gave a cheery grin.

  “Right this way, Mr. Darvish. As I’m sure you’re aware, the chef’s table is located in the kitchen.”

  Jax jerked and looked over at Ari with wide eyes. “Chef’s table? Someone wanted to impress tonight.”

  “Perhaps.” He shot Jax a sly look. “I know I promised to show you off, but… would you think less highly of me if I admitted that it was the only table left?”

  Jax tapped his chin. “Nah. Just more charmed.”

  Sophie led them into a hot, busy kitchen and guided them to a corner and a slim countertop with barstools behind it.

  “Here you are.” She motioned for them to have a seat and poured two fresh glasses of water. “I won’t be asking your drink order because Chef can be picky about that. She’ll be with you in a moment.” She gave them one last smile, wished them a pleasant dinner, and ducked back out of the kitchen.

  A fortyish woman with crinkled eyes and a bright pink ponytail mostly hidden by a wrap stepped up to the table. Paloma finished drying her hands and flung the towel over her shoulder. “So you made it, I see.”

  “Of course, Paloma. I said I would.”

  “Yes, you also mentioned bringing a date.” She gave Jax a long up-and-down look. “But you didn’t mention he was so handsome. You sure you want to waste your time with this idiot?” she asked Jax, jerking her thumb at Ari.

  Eyes wide, Jax grinned. “Pretty sure. His is the best offer I’ve gotten so far.” He winked at Paloma, ever the flirt.

  She barked a laugh. “Is that so? Well, I own this restaurant, handsome, and could afford to keep you well-fed.”

  “Judging by the smell in this kitchen, that is a highly tempting offer.”

  Her kitchen always did smell heavenly. Ari couldn’t blame Jax for being tempted.

  “I like you.” She patted his hand. “So, any requests or food aversions I should know about before I start seducing handsome here with my amazing food?”

  “None for me,” Jax said agreeably.

  “You know I will eat whatever you make for me, Paloma,” Ari said. He knew better than to argue.

  “Good. Stay where you are, and I’ll bring an appetizer and something to drink.” She rapped their table and shuffled away.

  Jax watched her go, then turned to Ari. “All right, please tell me everything.”

  “Everything? Everything I know does encompass rather a lot—”

  “Everything about her,” Jax laughed. “How do you know her?”

  Ari inclined his head. “She’s an old friend of Afra’s.”

  “Oh, I see.” Jax’s grin turned wicked, suggesting he did indeed see, and all too well. “Has she known you since you were in diapers?”

  Ari’s nose twitched. “Not quite, but very nearly. Her family moved here shortly after I began school.”

  “And she and Afra would have been, what? About to start high school?”

  Ari hummed. “Grade six, I think.”

  Still smiling, Jax propped his chin on one hand and eyed Ari almost sleepily. “I bet you were an adorable kindergartener. All those curls and big doe eyes.”

  “Oh, he was as cute as a button,” Paloma said as she settled two small glasses of white wine and a plate in front of them. “Of course, all of Afra’s friends were absolutely smitten with him. We didn’t exactly have to be talked into babysitting. Probably because he was just so agreeable.” She nudged the plate of food forward, then followed it with a linen-covered basket. “Imported manchego cheese, and a selection of house-made preserves—candied tomatoes, pickles, and olive tapenade. With fresh bread, of course.”

  She swooped away, and Jax turned sparkling eyes on Ari. �
��Agreeable, eh? What happened?”

  Ari picked up a piece of cheese by its toothpick skewer. “I can be agreeable when I want to be.” He shot Jax a look and then unloaded the cheese onto a slice of bread, topped it with the tomato, and bit. He’d forgotten how delicious Paloma’s creations were.

  “Apparently I just need to learn how to butter you up?” Jax raised an eyebrow over his wineglass, but he couldn’t hide his smirk.

  “What else is a date for?”

  The wine was perfect—crisp and dry but a little fruity—a nice complement to the tapas. Jax made rapturous noises over the tapenade, to the point where Ari just pushed the little ramekin toward him and let him go to town.

  “At least try one bite,” Jax protested, loading up a slice of bread with spread, manchego, and the last tomato. “Here. The sweetness of the tomato and the bitter salt of the olive and the richness of the cheese….” He held it out for Ari.

  Ari jolted, realizing Jax might actually mean for him to bite the bread out of his hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that level of intimacy with another person present, even if Paloma was mostly busy, so he carefully held Jax’s wrist steady with one hand and plucked the piece of bread from him with the other.

  Jax was right; the combination worked perfectly, like three-part harmony. Four, if you counted the bread.

  “I think it’s a hit,” Ari heard, but he still had his eyes closed, savoring the flavors. When he opened them again, Paloma was back, this time with another plate.

  “Grew the tomatoes myself, even.” She traded out their antipasto plate—empty—for one of artfully folded sliced cured meat with a lovely fatty layer. Ari’s stomach growled.

  “Did you grow the pig too?” Jax reached eagerly for his fork.

  She laughed. “No. It’s jamón ibérico—imported. And this….” She produced two more wineglasses, red this time. “Is my personal favorite rioja.”

  Oh—damn. Ari had forgotten about Jax’s alcohol restriction. The glasses were small so that they could be paired perfectly with each dish, but still, he wouldn’t be able to taste all the wines.

  When Paloma left again, Ari murmured quietly, “I’m sorry. The chef’s tasting menu comes with drink pairings. I forgot you’re only allowed two.”

  Jax lifted a shoulder, unperturbed. “It’s all good. I don’t mind having a sip of each. You can finish them off since neither of us has to drive.”

  At least the wine wouldn’t go to waste.

  Still—“Excuse me,” he said, and slipped away from the table to beg a favor from Sophie under the guise of using the restroom.

  Ten minutes after his return, Paloma brought the next course and two wineglasses once again. But she then turned around and produced a large martini glass filled with something pink and fizzy. “I heard you’re a bartender,” she said conversationally, sliding the drink in front of Jax. “Certified virgin cocktail. Though I’m not sure I caught the name of the beverage…?”

  “That’s—thank you.” Jax took it, flushing slightly, and glanced sidelong at Ari. “The version I make him’s called a Sparkling Conversation.”

  Paloma laughed. “That’s fabulous. I might have to bribe you out of your recipe. But what would you call the no-alcohol version?”

  “Hm.” Jax tried a sip. “A Diverting Discourse?”

  “Needs work,” Paloma noted, but she left them to their next course.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Jax murmured.

  “I wanted to.”

  He wanted everything to be perfect.

  “THIS IS the nicest first date I’ve ever been on,” Jax commented as they walked back toward Ari’s apartment. The original plan had been to take a walk after dinner, but the forecast called for rain. The sky was rumbling, and the winter chill had finally arrived.

  “I’m glad,” Ari answered, squeezing his fingers. “I was nervous.”

  Something warm fluttered in Jax’s chest. “Yeah? I’m kind of a sure thing, you know.”

  Even without looking, he could feel Ari’s wry side-eye. “Perhaps. But I… it may shock you to know that I’m not actually very good at dating.”

  This information caught Jax so off guard that for several seconds, his mouth hung open and nothing went in or out of it. At length he managed, “Well, you’re faking it very well as far as I’m concerned. A chef’s table for a private tasting menu? With wine pairings?”

  “Wine pairings I forgot you wouldn’t be able to enjoy,” Ari pointed out.

  “Still impressed.”

  A moment of comfortable silence passed before Ari volunteered, “In fairness, it’s not usually the actual dates that are the problem.”

  Jax glanced over, but he couldn’t glean anything from Ari’s face—not enough light, and the man could play professional poker if he wanted to. “No?”

  “It’s a lot of things. People sometimes find me a bit cold.”

  What? Jax thought of the softness of his eyes, the way he said Jax’s name, the tenderness of his touch, and the passion he put into his music. “Have these people met you?” He rarely felt as warm as he did under Ari’s focused intensity.

  “Unfortunately a different me, I think.” Ari tugged on their hands, consciously or not, and Jax stepped closer, until their shoulders were brushing. “I don’t always find it easy to connect with people. I often express myself through music instead of words or actions.”

  Okay, that made sense, and Jax could maybe forgive some of these hypothetical past lovers for missing the larger picture. Maybe. “But not with me?”

  “Also with you,” Ari corrected. “But you understand the music, I think, and….”

  Jax’s pulse beat high in his throat. “And?” Why was he holding his breath?

  “And unlike anyone else, you’re worth putting in the effort to remember words and actions too.”

  There was that warmth Jax was talking about. It practically flooded through him as they reached Ari’s building.

  Jax cleared his throat. “You know, I’m not actually great at dating either. I mean, sometimes it’s not my fault. Just because when I’m not in a relationship I’m a promiscuous pansexual doesn’t mean I’m a cheater, but try telling that to assholes. Maybe that’s why, ever since I was a kid, get me in a relationship that doesn’t suck, and I….”

  Ari waited patiently, tugging Jax’s hand again until they faced each other in the glow of the streetlamp.

  It was harder to say this while looking straight at him. Jax cut his gaze away and looked down the block at the quiet street. “I just go all in way too fast, you know? My sister says I fall in love at the drop of a hat.” His voice broke a little on that all-important word, and he quickly added to cover it up, “It freaks people out.”

  Sometime in the past twenty seconds, his hands had gone clammy. He hoped Ari didn’t notice.

  “It’s just really nice,” Jax went on, babbling helplessly with no way to stop himself, heart pounding, “to be on the same page for once.”

  Ari dropped his hand. In the dim light of the streetlamp, his eyes were very dark and velvet soft. He raised his palms to Jax’s cheeks and held his face gently as he kissed him slowly and toe-curlingly deep.

  When he broke away, it took Jax a moment to gather enough spare vocabulary from the couch cushions of his brain to make a sentence. He licked his lips, chasing Ari’s taste. “So.” His voice came out in a warm rasp. “Do you put out on the first date?”

  Ari hummed. “For you? Definitely.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  JAX WOKE the next morning feeling pleasantly used. A glance at the clock said it was past eight already.

  He shuffled into the bathroom for a pee and to brush his teeth. They had showered last night after getting thoroughly dirty. Of course, they did get dirty again in the shower, but the water was handy.

  In Ari’s bedroom, Jax slipped on his boxers and then, after some consideration of last night’s trousers, raided Ari’s closet for soft pants and a T-shirt. Maybe he should st
ash a couple of items here for mornings after.

  Yawning, he went into the kitchen, poured himself a mango juice, and took his pill.

  After another sip of sugar, Jax looked around and realized he’d walked right past Ari, who stood next to his piano with his electric violin under his chin, running the bow roughly over the strings. He was frowning, pressing the bow in rough jerks.

  Not wanting to interfere, Jax clutched his glass and waited.

  Ari yanked the bow away with a discordant sound, and for a moment, Jax thought he might throw it across the room.

  Instead he dropped both arms and let out a gusty sigh. The instrument almost looked sad, hanging limply from his grip.

  “Having trouble?”

  Ari jerked and turned toward Jax. He smiled, his gaze tender and then heated as he took Jax in. Not doing much to hide his pleased smile, Jax sipped his juice. Ari cleared his throat and turned to put away his violin.

  “So,” Jax said when Ari stepped toward him. “Trouble?”

  Ari shook his head. “Composing has not come easy this morning. But that is not unusual.”

  “Ah. Writer’s block. How did you shake it the last time?”

  The poker face was back. Ari gave nothing away, even as he leaned in to kiss Jax. “It’s nothing, I’m sure. Only I have been incredibly spoiled recently and forgot what a difficult piece feels like. Now.” He ran one hand down Jax’s arm and threaded their fingers together. A sense memory of last night flashed through Jax. He squeezed back. “How about we get you some breakfast.”

  “Breakfast sounds great,” Jax agreed and followed Ari back to the kitchen.

  Ari pulled fruit, cheese, and eggs out of the fridge, and a loaf of bread—some sort of baguette?—out of the cupboard. It struck Jax that Ari was feeding him yet again, and maybe he should even that score, though Jax’s roommate, and Ari’s lack thereof, made dates and sleepovers somewhat impractical. He’d have to think on it.

  “What can I do?” He set his glass aside.