From Brussels, With Love

by Emy Calirel

  “Stop staring at me like that. You’ll make me blush.” Jerome swatted Trevor’s shoulder. “Come on, if you get up, I have breakfast, water, and painkillers for you.”

  Trevor pushed himself up with a groan, his hand to his aching head. “No breakfast, thanks. But I wouldn’t say no to water and painkillers.”

  Jerome reached to the half wall separating the bed from the rest of the room and handed Trevor an already filled glass and two white pills.

  “You were prepared. Do that often?” Trevor asked, gratefully accepting everything.

  “Do what? Get drunk or sleep with strangers?”

  Trevor paused. “Both, I guess.”

  Jerome shook his head and got to his feet, stretching with his arms high above his head. His gray shirt rose up, revealing a stretch of skin, and Trevor made himself look away. He wasn’t used to morning-afters or even sleeping all night with someone. Ronan had always refused to stay the night. He hadn’t even wanted to cuddle after sex. Four years of unrequited love. The sex had been good and Ronan was a friend, or had been, but Trevor had known from the day he fell in love that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. It still hurt.

  “Are you okay?” Jerome asked, pulling Trevor away from his thoughts. He had been unconsciously rubbing his chest, and he let his hand fall. “You looked sad. You’re having regrets?”

  “No. I was just wondering why this feels so easy and comfortable. Aren’t one-night stands supposed to be awkward the next day?”

  “Only if you don’t remember your date’s name or how you ended up in their bed. You remember me, right?”

  Trevor smiled. “Quentin?”

  Jerome laughed and threw Trevor his shirt, which had ended up on the ficus the previous evening. “Idiot.”

  Trevor looked around the wooden floor for the rest of his discarded clothes. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

  “Be my guest. Towels are under the sink.”

  WHEN TREVOR came out of the surprisingly large bathroom, his head still pounded, but he felt fresher. Jerome lived in a small one-room apartment. It was crowded but clean, with lots of green plants and a large bay window, giving the space a homey and bright feel.

  Jerome looked up from the paper he was writing on when he heard Trevor. “I made fresh coffee if you want some,” he said, motioning toward the coffee maker.

  The fresh brew smelled great, and Trevor was tempted, but he needed to leave before he overstayed his welcome.

  “I’m good, thank you,” he said, putting his shoes on.

  Jerome pushed a folded paper toward him. “Also, that fell from your pocket.”

  Trevor picked it up and groaned. “It’s the schedule Hannah made for me. Excursions and things to do around Brussels for each day. She went so far as to print it and everything.”

  Jerome’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward. “Yeah? What’s planned for today?”

  “Parlamentarium and the House of European History, apparently.”

  “You look thrilled. They’re quite good museums.”

  Trevor scowled at the list before putting it back in his pocket. “It’s not that. Playing tourist alone just isn’t really my thing. You don’t happen to have any tours today, do you?”

  “Not until next Tuesday, no. I rarely do tours outside of weekdays because I work every other weekend. I’m off today, though, so I could be your personal guide if you wanted.”

  Trevor’s pulse picked up. “Seriously? I would pay you for your time, of course, but you’re a great guide. You would make today so much nicer.”

  Jerome waved his hand. “Keep your money. I’m suggesting it because I love Brussels. And you’re good company,” he added with a wink.

  Trevor felt himself blushing. “You said you worked every other weekend. You’re not a professional tour guide?”

  “I am, but I also co-own a souvenir shop with Quentin. I’m in charge of designing the postcards and T-shirts, in addition to working there when I’m not on tour, and he deals with the paperwork side of things.”

  Jerome held the paper he had been working on to Trevor. A waffle waved at him in the drawing, the words From Brussels, With Love written next to it in what looked like melting chocolate. The construction lines were still visible, and not all the details were drawn yet, but it already looked amusing.

  “It looks good.”

  Jerome tapped a steady staccato on the table with his pen. “It’s not finished yet. If you’re interested, I can show you the shop later today, so you can see the ones I’ve already done. They’ll look better than this doodle.”

  “I would really like that.” Trevor handed the drawing back. “Do you want to come for brunch? We could go from there.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. Pretty sure you’re going to a place out of my budget, and I need to finish this. I could join you at your hotel around eleven?”

  “Perfect.” Trevor smoothed down his jacket and cleared his throat. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you in a couple hours, then.” He opened the front door and paused. “Which way is my hotel?”

  “Turn right when you leave the building, then first left and straight ahead. You’ll end up at the train station in about five minutes. You can find a taxi there. Or do you want me to look up the buses for you?”

  Trevor shook his head. “Taxi is fine. I’ll see you later.”

  TREVOR’S HEAD was still killing him, and the noise in the breakfast room didn’t help. The restaurant wasn’t big, but it was bright and cheerful with round white tables, lime-green chairs, and a buffet served in a converted yellow-and-white food van.

  “You look rough,” Hannah said, coming back to sit in front of Trevor after refilling her mug.

  Trevor raised his head, which he had been massaging between his hands. “Too much alcohol, not enough water.”

  Hannah brought her mug to her nose, breathing the steam in deeply. Trevor had never met anyone who loved the smell of green tea as much as Hannah did. “Worth it, though? Did you have a good night?”

  “Not kissing and telling, boo. You know that.”

  “No asking for details, sprout.” Hannah smirked at his nickname, like she always did. “Although, I do want some on this mysterious man.”

  Trevor shifted and couldn’t help a small smile. “I had a great time. I met the guide from the walking tour at the bar. We got to talking and….” Trevor motioned with his hand.

  “Yeah, yeah, rumpty-tumpty between the sheets. Tell me about him.”

  “If you stick around until eleven, you’ll see him.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened, but Trevor spoke before she could.

  “Don’t! He just offered to show me around the city, and he’s a very good guide. He’s funny and full of anecdotes. That’s all.”

  Hannah didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. “As long as you’re having fun.”

  “What about you? How was your evening?” Trevor asked, glad to divert the conversation from himself.

  Hannah blushed and squirmed. “Eric was there.”

  Hannah had been crushing on muscular, blond, perfect-smile Eric since they met at another conference two years ago.

  “Did you ditch me to go have dinner with your dentist?”

  “No!” Hannah defended. “I didn’t know he would be there. I swear I didn’t know. But then he was, and we were sitting next to each other, and I lost track of time. And hey, it’s a good thing I did, since you found your guy.”

  “Which you didn’t know at the time,” Trevor pointed out.

  “He got divorced,” Hannah said quietly. “And he’s invited me to dinner tonight.”

  She was looking down at her scrambled eggs, but Trevor knew her well enough to know she was feeling conflicted.

  He sighed. “You should go.”

  “I dragged you all the way to Brussels. It’s not cool to bail on you two nights in a row.”

  “You’ve fancied him for years, and he’s finally available and interested. I’m not gonna come between you
and the opportunity. I hope it’ll lead somewhere.”

  “God, me too.”

  They continued eating their breakfast in comfortable silence. Trevor glanced out the window when an ambulance drove by, and he dropped his piece of toast into his coffee before cursing. Hannah looked up in surprise and followed his line of sight. Jerome was early, leaning against the wall across the street and playing with his necklace as he talked on the phone.

  “Is that the tour guide?” Hannah asked.

  Trevor nodded, mopping the mess he had made on the table with his napkin.

  “Damn, you pick them well. Don’t get me wrong, Ronan is good-looking, if a complete jerk, but this is next level. Hope he’s not an asshat too.”

  “He’s nice,” Trevor muttered. “Even if he wasn’t, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just some company for the weekend and nothing more.”

  “Maybe it’ll get you out of your funk.” Hannah tilted her head toward the window. “You should go. He’s waiting.”

  “He’s thirty minutes early, and you’re not done yet,” Trevor said, even if he was impatient to join Jerome. Whether they would end up having sex again or not—but Trevor hoped they would—he was looking forward to his day.

  Hannah waved him away. “Just go. I need to call Eric to tell him yes for tonight anyway.”

  Trevor stood up and smoothed his shirt down before putting his jacket on.

  “You look like sex on a stick. Just go already.”

  Trevor kissed her cheek on the way. “Have a good day, and keep me posted on Eric, okay?”

  THE SMILE Jerome gave him when Trevor walked out of the hotel warmed him and made him all tingly. He wasn’t sure if he should kiss him, hug him, or shake his hand, so Trevor settled for putting his hands in his pockets as he waited for Jerome to finish his phone call.

  “Hello again,” Jerome said when he hung up. “You’re ready to go? I was thinking we could walk around today since it’s sunny. Most of Brussels can be done by foot if you’re willing. Unless you would prefer we respect Hannah’s schedule and go to the European quarter?”

  “I’m trusting your judgment, and walking is fine. Lead the way.”

  Chapter 4—Jerome

  TREVOR HAD clearly been unsure how to act as they started walking, which Jerome found strangely endearing. For someone who looked like he was perpetually going to a business meeting, Trevor wasn’t as confident as he wanted to appear.

  “So, I thought we could follow Rue Royale, detour by the Cathédrale Saints-Michel-et-Gudule, then go to the park, where we can have lunch. Mont des Arts, the Palace, then I can show you around les Marolles. We can swing by the flea market there if it’s not too late.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Trevor finally took his hands out of his pockets and matched Jerome’s pace. “You have things to say on all those places?”

  “You’ll beg me to shut up. There’s so much to say about Brussels, its history, and its scandals. The Cathedral is from the seventh century, so it’s a good place to start.”

  Unable to resist, Jerome brushed his fingers against Trevor’s, smiling when, after a slight hesitation, Trevor took his hand. Jerome loved physical touch, and Trevor was only there for the weekend, so Jerome wanted to make the most of it. Pretend for two days and take his fill without consequences. This was the perfect no-strings-attached opportunity. No exchanging phone numbers or emails, no risk of falling in love and getting hurt, no keeping in touch past Sunday. Or Monday morning, if Jerome’s plan for as much sex as possible was to happen.

  BY THE time they made it to Place Poelaert five hours later, Jerome’s throat was scratchy from talking so much and his feet sore from all their walking. He had thought Trevor would get tired of listening to him eventually, but every time Jerome stopped, Trevor would ask questions or for more details. For the first time in a long time, Jerome had to dig deep into his memory to remember more than the basics he gave tourists. He told Trevor things his mother had taught him, things he never got the opportunity to really share on tours. Seeing Brussels through Trevor’s eyes was like seeing it in a different light.

  Thankfully, the graffiti-covered glass elevator was working that day and they took it up to the square. Jerome told Trevor about how he had never seen the courthouse without its scaffolding, and about Joseph Poelaert, the hated skieven architect, before they went to the balustrade. From there, they had a view of the whole city below, and like every time, Jerome took it all in. With the sky almost cloud free, they could see all the way to the Atomium. Jerome pointed out some places before he finally stopped talking to just enjoy. The sun warmed his skin and his arm was against Trevor’s, their fingers linked together as they leaned against the fence, side by side.

  “I’ll be honest,” Trevor said, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “I wasn’t sure you would come this morning, but I’m really glad you did.”

  Jerome frowned and turned his head to look at Trevor. “I told you I would be there.”

  “Sure, but last night you only expected a one-night stand, so I figured you might change your mind after coffee.”

  “Actually, I was expecting a dinner date last night. Life’s full of surprises.”

  Trevor smiled. “Some are pretty good.”

  Jerome looked back at the panorama and sighed. “I should have shown you the view from the library. It’s amazing too.”

  “I think the view I’ve got is great.”

  Jerome glanced at Trevor, and warmth spread throughout his chest. His lips slightly parted, Trevor was focused on Jerome instead of the city.

  He bumped his shoulder against Trevor. “Stop flirting.”

  Trevor opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone pinged, and he let go of Jerome’s hand to take it. His whole attitude changed in a second. As he read his text, Trevor went from relaxed and smiling to closed off and tense. His shoulders straightened, and sadness flickered in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said after clearing his throat. “I need to go back to the hotel.”

  “Now? But it’s Saturday, and I thought you were on vacation.” Jerome reached out to Trevor’s hand, but Trevor stepped back.

  “No rest for the wicked.” He met Jerome’s gaze and winced. “I had a great time, but my client is apparently displeased with a proposition we made her. I’m the project manager. I can’t… I need to deal with it.”

  “Okay.” Jerome nodded, slipping his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let me bring you back to your hotel then. We’ll take the tram.”

  THEY MADE the trip back mostly in silence. Jerome tried to engage Trevor in conversation, but it was clear Trevor’s mind was somewhere else, so he eventually gave up. He knew it was stupid to be that disappointed for their time together to end, but Jerome had genuinely enjoyed it. Their day had been a breath of fresh air in a chaotic life he felt he was losing control over.

  Jerome stopped in front of the black building. “There you go. Hope your work thing can be fixed.”

  Trevor nodded and bit his lower lip. “You could come in with me,” he said, his voice unsure. Jerome hesitated, looking up at the hotel. “Hannah won’t be there and calling Valentina won’t take me long.”

  When Jerome looked back at Trevor, he seemed so hopeful and sad, all Jerome wanted was to make him smile again. “I could use the opportunity to rest my feet, I guess. And I’ll admit, I’m curious to see what a room here looks like.”

  Trevor visibly relaxed, reassuring Jerome in his decision.

  THE HOTEL room was incredible. Almost as big as Jerome’s apartment, it had two king-size beds, a plush green carpet, and soft green curtains. A big flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall above the desk, and in front of the large window were two comfy-looking white chairs and footrests. A suitcase spilling women’s clothes was open beside one of the beds, and designer lamps completed the picture.

  Trevor walked around the room like he owned the place, throwing his vest on the bed closest to the window, and Jerome wondered
what Trevor had thought of his place that morning.

  “Make yourself at home,” Trevor said, sitting at the desk and opening the laptop resting on it. “Do you want something from room service?”

  Jerome took his shoes off and settled in one of the seats, sighing when he put his feet up. St Marie’s Church was visible from the window, giving him an idea.

  “I’m good. Can I borrow a pen and piece of paper, though?”

  Trevor handed them to him. “I won’t be long.”

  Jerome hummed in agreement, already focused on sketching a new postcard. He listened distractedly as Trevor spoke in a mix of English and Italian before silence fell in the room, only interrupted by the clickety-clack of Trevor’s keyboard.

  “FUCK, I’M sorry. I didn’t see the time!” Trevor exclaimed.

  Jerome looked up in surprise before glancing at his watch. They had been back at the hotel for two hours already.

  “That’s okay. I didn’t pay attention either.” Jerome carefully folded his piece of paper and put it in his pocket. “Are you done?”

  Trevor snorted. “I’m never done.” He swiveled in his chair to face Jerome. “I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. We can go to the hotel’s restaurant or wherever you want.”

  “What about your friend?” Jerome asked, already knowing the hotel’s restaurant was out of the question. Marvin had spoiled the place for him forever. Spending the evening with Trevor, however, was very tempting.

  “She’s having dinner with her crush. But even if she didn’t, she bailed on me last night. I wouldn’t feel too bad doing the same.”

  Jerome licked his lips and got up, slowly making his way toward Trevor. “Will she be back to change?”