by Emy Calirel
He groaned and shook himself. After a quick detour by the bathroom, he grabbed his vest and left the room. Hooking up wasn’t his thing, but if he couldn’t have a nice dinner, then he would get a nice, strong, kickass cocktail instead.
Chapter 2—Jerome
JEROME RAN out of patience and excused himself from the table. His friend had set him up on yet another blind date, and if the food was amazing, the man he was eating it with wasn’t. Marvin was crass, not funny, and dumb as a rock. The full beard and incredible blue eyes didn’t do anything for Jerome when their owner was the complete opposite of what he was looking for in a partner.
Jerome walked around the brightly colored chairs and round tables, apologizing when he accidentally bumped into an older lady having dinner with her husband. The food served by the waiters looked amazing, but Jerome had lost his appetite right when Marvin had used the decorative carrot on his plate to make suggestive innuendos. Jerome wasn’t a prude, but the couple sitting next to them had avoided looking their way since.
He pushed open the heavy door to the men’s room, which was thankfully empty and didn’t smell so bad, and leaned back against the white and green tile wall. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, enjoying a second of peace and quiet before he took his phone out of his jeans pocket.
“Je te hais,” Jerome said as soon as Quentin answered. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but for everyone’s sake, you need to stop.”
“Dinner is not going well?” Quentin asked, his TV on so loudly, Jerome could hear the action movie playing in the background. Since he had separated from his wife, Quentin tended to spend his evenings either binging blockbusters or cruising the bars.
“No, it’s not going well.” Jerome paced the small space between the stalls and the urinals. “Seriously, where did you find him?”
Quentin paused. “Dating app.”
Jerome clenched his jaw. “I can’t believe you. I don’t care if you use them to find your sex dates, I don’t want to be on that kind of website and you know it. Take my profile down right the fuck now.”
“Marvin had really pretty eyes in his picture. I thought you would like that.”
“I do. You know what I like ten times more? Someone with a personality who can hold a conversation about more than rough sex.”
A short man wearing funky glasses pushed the bathroom door open and frowned when he saw Jerome. Jerome nodded and turned away from the urinals, resuming his pacing in front of the stalls.
“Noted,” Quentin said. “I’ll do better next time, but—”
“No,” Jerome interrupted. “No, no, no. No next time. There won’t be a next time. You have to stop. I’m serious, no more blind dates. They are your thing, not mine. I don’t want a new relationship. You know that, and I’m tired of trying for your sake. That’s enough.”
“Okay, no relationship, but maybe give Marvin a chance tonight. I’m not telling you to marry the guy, but when was the last time you got laid?”
“Quentin,” Jerome warned, his voice low.
“Don’t you miss being with someone? Brice was three years ago. It’s time you gave someone else a—”
Jerome hung up on him. The man with the glasses washed his hands and glanced Jerome’s way before leaving. Jerome dropped his head and groaned. He knew he needed to go back too. He couldn’t just stay hidden in the restaurant’s bathroom.
Quentin was right. He did miss being with someone, but he wasn’t ready to put his heart back on the line. And certainly not with someone like Marvin. Spending the evening with someone he liked would be nice, though, and maybe that’s why he kept letting Quentin set him up.
MARVIN BLATANTLY undressed Jerome with his eyes when Jerome made his way back to their table. It made Jerome’s skin crawl. Time to put an end to their night.
“I was starting to think you were waiting for me to come and join you in there.” Marvin leered.
“I wasn’t.” Jerome poked at his dessert. The ice cream looked delicious, but the thought of eating turned his stomach.
“Should we get out of here? I’ve got a room waiting for us.” Marvin put a plastic key card on the table between them.
Jerome stared at it for a second before he put his spoon down and leaned back against his chair, arms crossed. “No, we shouldn’t. I think we’re done here.”
Marvin frowned. “What?”
“I’m not going up with you. The meal was—”
“I don’t care about the meal. We came here to fuck.”
“Then you’ll be disappointed,” Jerome said, holding his gaze. “There’ll be no fucking tonight.” The man sitting next to them coughed pointedly, but Jerome ignored him. He felt a bit bad about his neighbor’s romantic evening being ruined, but Marvin hadn’t tried to keep his voice down during dinner. There was no way Jerome could shock or make them even more uncomfortable.
Marvin’s eyes narrowed. “Come with me and see if I’m disappointing, you tease.”
“Let’s be real.” Jerome tilted his head and forced a smirk on his lips. “You’ll be disappointing. You must lack skills and have a tiny dick if you need to talk about it so much.”
Marvin’s mouth contorted in anger, and for a second Jerome thought he might have pushed the line too far.
“I already paid for the meal and the room.”
“I appreciate the meal, but the only action you’ll see on that fancyass bed will be with your right hand.”
Marvin’s face turned bright red. He got up, pushing his chair back so hard it toppled over. If that hadn’t been enough to attract everyone’s attention, the string of colorful insults he yelled at Jerome before storming out of the restaurant did the trick.
Jerome waited until Marvin rushed past the window before he uncrossed his arms. What a disaster. At least he didn’t have to pay for the meal this time.
He stood and went to pick up the fallen chair just as their waiter arrived, looking tired and uncomfortable.
“Problem, sir?”
“No. Sorry for the show.” Jerome’s phone rang just as he was putting his jacket back on. “What?” he asked, his voice defeated.
“Do I need to come over and rescue you?” Explosions and gunfights had stopped blaring from Quentin’s end, and Jerome relaxed his shoulders. At least he knew he could always count on his friend, even if Quentin kept putting him in impossible situations.
“No, I’m fine. I’m about to leave the restaurant now.”
“Okay. Sorry it didn’t work out tonight. I’ll choose better next time.”
Jerome opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind. There was no point arguing with Quentin when they both knew Jerome would lose that battle.
“Good luck opening tomorrow,” Jerome said instead.
“Maybe Penelope Cruz will come by.” Jerome could hear the smile in Quentin’s voice, which relaxed him further. “If she does, I’m closing the store for an hour.”
“An hour?” Jerome teased. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
“Hey now, don’t underestimate your best friend’s sexual abilities.”
“And we’re done with this conversation. Seriously, though, I don’t have plans tomorrow so call if you need me.”
“Will do. Enjoy your weekend off.”
Jerome hung up and pushed past the white drapes separating the restaurant from the bar. He froze on his way toward the door when he recognized someone at the counter. Chiseled jawline, short black hair, and strong shoulders, Trevor was wearing the same light blue shirt and dark blue slacks he’d had on Jerome’s tour earlier. Not only was he damn good-looking, he had also stood out. Jerome was more accustomed to backpacks and shorts than business casual in his groups.
Their eyes met, and on a whim, Jerome joined him.
“Trevor, right?”
Trevor smiled and finished the pink cocktail he had been drinking. “Jerome, the best tour guide in Brussels.”
“Have you done many tours?” Jerome slid onto the black s
tool between Trevor and a woman playing on her phone.
Trevor shook his head. “Just yours, but I was tricked into it, and you made it interesting and fun. I was in a better mood afterward.”
“You didn’t seem happy when you left.” Jerome remembered the way Trevor’s face had fallen when his phone rang.
“Yeah, well, that’ll be work for you.” Trevor raised his glass as if to take another sip before he realized it was empty and put it back on the bar. He stood up and smoothed down his shirt.
“Care for another one?” Jerome asked before Trevor put his jacket on.
A small frown appeared between Trevor’s brows, and he bit his lower lip. “I shouldn’t. I’m already feeling a bit tipsy.”
Jerome shrugged and smiled despite his disappointment. “Your loss. A guy in a suit tipped me fifty euros today, so tonight I’m drinking on him.”
Trevor looked down at himself. “I wasn’t wearing a suit.”
He looked so dumbfounded Jerome couldn’t help but laugh. “All you had missing was the tie.” At ten euros a beer, it hurt his budget, but at this point Jerome couldn’t leave without ordering when the bartender came over. Trevor sighed, and a second later, he was back on the stool next to Jerome.
“What the hell, let’s drink on that bloke.” He turned to the bartender. “Two.”
“No more flashy pink cocktail?” Jerome teased.
“That flashy pink cocktail is rum and vodka, so unless you want to carry me back to bed, I’ll stick with beer from now on.”
Jerome raised an amused eyebrow and made a show of checking Trevor out. Not that it was a hardship, because he was eye candy. A faint blush crept onto Trevor’s cheeks, making Jerome chuckle.
“You wouldn’t need to push me too hard. But honestly, I just want a drink and good company. Tonight was a bust.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
Jerome was about to avoid the question, but Trevor seemed genuinely interested, and before he knew it, Jerome was answering. “My friend Quentin keeps setting me up on blind dates. I had dinner here tonight, but it was horrible. The food was good, but this”—Jerome pointed at the fancy round pendant lights, comfy red chairs, and white drapes hanging from the ceiling—“isn’t my usual setting.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed from the leather jacket and jeans,” Trevor said. Jerome shifted self-consciously, but before shame could settle, Trevor put his hand on Jerome’s arm briefly. “I’m just teasing. You look great, and your date was an idiot if he didn’t think so.”
“Oh, he thought so.” Jerome nodded his thanks to the bartender for his beer. “Problem was, he didn’t think of anything else. He spent the whole meal talking about sex, and let me tell you, not in a sexy way. He wasn’t enticing, he was being plain gross. I don’t know where Quentin finds them, but it’s getting worse. I thought I had hit rock bottom with the previous one, but no. Next, he’ll find me a serial killer.”
“Or worse, a lawyer,” Trevor deadpanned.
Jerome choked on his beer, his coughing attracting people’s attention. “That would be my limit. Wait,” he said, his eyes widening, “you’re not a lawyer, are you?”
Trevor shook his head and took a drink, his clear eyes dancing in amusement. “Project manager for Sidelux. What was the problem with the previous date?”
“He was deathly boring. Extremely good-looking, but he spent the whole time telling me how classic Hollywood movies and the French new wave were the only cinemas worth it. I’m a Marvel and action movie fan. I love a good blockbuster, so we didn’t really connect.”
Trevor held his glass out for Jerome to clink his against. “Team Iron Man.”
“I was caught in a hard place on that one. I would have been with Tony Stark, but Hawkeye? I’ll always follow Hawkeye.”
Trevor tilted his head and smirked. “It’s the Renner charm.”
THREE HOURS, two beers, and a change of bartender later, Jerome was feeling nicely warm and relaxed. His evening had highly improved, and the company was excellent. Trevor was clever and funny, and not at all as snobby as his wardrobe suggested. The light reflected in his blue eyes, and Jerome was entranced by his accent and the way he talked. How his full lips moved and how his tongue darted out after every sip of his beer.
Jerome finished his drink, and maybe it was alcohol giving him courage, or maybe it was just Trevor putting him at ease, but he spoke before he could second-guess himself.
“Want to get out of here?”
Trevor stopped midsentence, his glass halfway to his mouth. His focus dropped from Jerome’s eyes to his lips before he finished his beer in one go, his Adam’s apple working as he swallowed. He carefully put his empty glass down on the coaster before he licked his lips.
“Yes.” He motioned for the bartender and showed his room key. “On my tab please, room 405.”
Trevor took Jerome’s hand and pulled him out of the bar and through the lobby. His grip was strong and confident as he led Jerome down the street and around the building. Before he knew it, Jerome had his back against the wall and Trevor’s mouth against his own. Trevor’s hands on his cheeks were gentle, contrasting with his bruising lips. With their height difference, Jerome felt completely surrounded. He passed his hands under Trevor’s jacket, the soft fabric of his shirt bunching in Jerome’s hands. He pulled it out of Trevor’s pants to reach skin.
Trevor startled when Jerome touched his back with his cold fingers, and Jerome used the distraction to make them switch places, pushing Trevor against the brick wall before he deepened their kiss. Trevor pulled away as soon as their tongues touched, though, and it took Jerome a second to understand why Trevor looked confused. When he did, Jerome stuck his tongue out, showing Trevor his rainbow piercing. Trevor’s eyes lit up, and he pulled Jerome back into a kiss, his fingers tangling into Jerome’s hair. Jerome shifted closer, pushing his leg between Trevor’s. Trevor’s erection grew against his own quickly hardening cock.
“I’ve hoped for this since beer number two,” Trevor said when they separated.
Jerome kissed along Trevor’s jaw to his neck. “Then bringing me out here wasn’t your best move. I’m not into public sex. Let’s go up to your room.”
“Can’t.” Trevor sighed, trailing his hands down Jerome’s back. “Hannah will be there.”
Jerome froze, his blood running cold, and he pushed away from Trevor.
Hurt and confusion crossed Trevor’s face. “Wha—”
“I don’t do cheaters,” Jerome interrupted sharply, rearranging his clothes. “If you want a good time behind your girl’s back, find someone else.”
“What? No!” Trevor reached for him, but Jerome took a step back. “Hannah’s not my girlfriend. She’s my best friend. We share the room because she’s attending a work conference and she tricked me into coming here with her. Except tonight she bailed on me to go have dinner with her colleagues, and that’s why I was at the bar by myself.”
Jerome looked up, trying to see if Trevor was telling the truth or bullshitting him. Trevor had stepped away from the wall, his shirt still untucked and his expression earnest in the dim yellow light from the streetlamp.
“She tricked you into this weekend,” Jerome said slowly. He couldn’t believe the reason for Trevor’s presence in Brussels hadn’t come up earlier.
“Yes. She woke me up in the middle of the night, and before I was fully aware, I was in a taxi to the airport.”
Silence fell between them, only interrupted by cars driving by on the main road. Trevor’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. He reached for his shirt to fix his clothes.
“Don’t.” Jerome stepped closer and grabbed Trevor’s wrist. “You may be about to make me the biggest idiot in this city, but I’m not done with you yet.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“And I’m still not into having sex in the back parking lot of a fancy hotel.”
Trevor tentatively put his hands on Jerome’s hips, and Jerome took another step closer, rais
ing his head to look at Trevor.
“I could see if they have a room available for the night?”
“Or,” Jerome said, hyperaware of Trevor’s hands on him, “we could call a cab and go back to my place.”
He didn’t bring people home often. Hadn’t since the awful rebound fuck following the end of his last serious relationship. But he wanted Trevor, and it wasn’t like Trevor was in Brussels to stay anyway.
Trevor nodded. “I’ll go ask reception to call one.”
Before he could step away, Jerome slid his hand behind Trevor’s neck and pulled him down for a slow, deep kiss.
He smiled at the pure lust in Trevor’s eyes when they separated. “Hurry up.”
Trevor tucked his shirt back into his pants as he walked away. When he disappeared around the corner, Jerome let himself lean back against the cold wall, his eyes on the archway and hot air balloon fresco in front of him.
“What am I doing?” he whispered.
Chapter 3—Trevor
“WHY DID you let me drink so much?” Trevor moaned. Jerome was moving around the apartment, but Trevor kept his eyes closed and pushed his head into the pillow. It smelled like Jerome and sex, and the souvenir of their night sent a thrill through him. Light flooded the room as Jerome opened the shutters, and Trevor threw his arm over his eyes.
“I didn’t let you drink anything. You paid.” Jerome scratched Trevor’s head lightly. “You didn’t seem that drunk either.”
“I wasn’t,” Trevor mumbled. “Alcohol always hits me hard the next day.” The bed dipped as Jerome sat next to him, and Trevor opened his eyes. One-night stands weren’t supposed to look so good the next day, and yet here he was, staring at the handsome man who had blown his mind.