by Ariel Tachna
Biking sounds great if the weather stays good.
He tucked his phone back in his jacket pocket and went back to the e-mail he’d been writing, a smile on his face.
Chapter 13
PASCAL CAME out of the kitchen on Thursday night with an order for an early table and checked automatically to see if he had any new customers. They didn’t have a lot of reservations, either because of the storms that had blustered through town off and on all day or because it was Thursday, but they usually got decent referral traffic from the surrounding hotels on nights like this. The free shuttle was a big draw when the weather was bad. To his surprise, Martine, Hélène, Camille, and Nicole had come in while he was in the kitchen. He delivered the meal in his hand with his best professional smile in place, then turned toward his ladies, his smile morphing into a smirk.
Hélène looked up as he started across the room and met his smirk with one of her own. She was wearing red lipstick tonight, a change from her usual muted palette. He wondered what had inspired the change. He’d have to be sure to compliment her on it, regardless of the reason, because the bright color complemented her black hair perfectly.
“How’s our favorite waiter?” she asked when Pascal moved within earshot.
His smile slipped despite his efforts to keep it in place. He didn’t even bother hoping they wouldn’t notice.
Camille pushed out the extra chair at the table. “Want to sit down and tell us about it?”
“I shouldn’t,” Pascal said. “I have other tables besides yours tonight. I didn’t see your names on the reservations.”
“We didn’t make a reservation,” Martine said. “We had reservations for next week, but an event came up at the last minute, and I wouldn’t have been able to make it, so we took the chance on coming in tonight. And you don’t have to sit down now, but you do have to tell us about it. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”
He doubted they could help even if he told them every last detail, but that wouldn’t deter them. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“With why you aren’t still over the moon in love with your boy like you were the last time we were here,” Nicole said, “but you can think about it while you bring us a round of cosmos. You’ve been so happy lately. We hate seeing you sad now.”
That brought a real smile to his face, even as he reeled from the rest of her statement, because he couldn’t hear them talk about how much they cared and not smile. They had been with him through so much. “Four cosmos coming up. Think about appetizers and dinner while I’m getting those.”
He placed their order at the bar and retreated to the restroom for a moment. Anywhere else and someone might come up to him with a question. Normally he relished his role as head waiter and the chance it gave him to mentor the younger waiters, but he needed to breathe—and think—without interruption long enough to put his thoughts in order.
Love. Nicole had used the word love to talk about Mathias, but Pascal had been in love before, and it hadn’t felt like this. He and Robert had their ups and downs, of course, but he’d never questioned whether they belonged together or whether they could make things work between them. He’d questioned whether Robert could beat the cancer that had eventually killed him, and he’d questioned how he was supposed to go on without his lover, but never if they were right for each other.
With Mathias he couldn’t stop asking that question. He took a deep breath and washed his hands before he returned to the restaurant floor. He still didn’t know what he was going to tell his ladies, but he couldn’t delay any longer without taking an official break.
Their cosmos were ready at the bar, so he loaded those onto the tray and carried them to the table. “I told Nick to make up a pitcher so he’d have them ready when you wanted more,” he teased as he set the glasses in front of each of them.
“You could just bring the pitcher to the table,” Hélène replied. “But bring a glass for yourself if you do that.”
Pascal laughed. “What did you decide on for dinner?”
They ordered quickly, and he went to place the order with the kitchen. As he came back out, the display martini glass that would easily hold three or four liters of liquid caught his eye. He snagged it as he passed and headed back to the table. “I brought a glass,” he said as he sank into the chair Camille had pushed out for him earlier.
His ladies erupted into gales of laughter, and just like that, the tension beneath his lungs evaporated. He couldn’t sit there with them, surrounded by laughter, and not feel buoyed by it.
All four of them lifted their glasses to clink against the one in his hand. “What are we drinking to?” Martine asked.
“Or what are we drinking to forget?” Camille added.
“Things with Mathias have gotten… complicated.”
“Why is that?” Nicole asked.
Pascal shrugged. “We’re just so different.”
“You’ll never be bored,” Martine quipped. Pascal grimaced. “Joking aside, opposites attract is a staple in romance for a reason, you know.”
“Maybe, but reality isn’t as simple as your books.”
“How are you different?” Nicole inquired. “The important ways, not things like he has blond hair and you have black.”
He knew where she stood on the matter of differences in a relationship. Even if he hadn’t known about her husband, her books almost always featured couples from different cultures.
“I wasn’t going to list that. I do have some sense.” He took a deep breath and tried to decide where to start. “I don’t think we want the same things.”
“At all, or is there something particular that’s bothering you?” Camille said.
Pascal tried to put into words the sense of unease that hadn’t completely left him since he’d woken up with Mathias still in his bed the day before. “I remember what it was like to be twentysomething, when all it took was the first hint of interest and I was raring to go.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hélène teased. Pascal wasn’t surprised the comment came from her. While Hélène’s books always resolved romantically, it wasn’t unusual for her characters to start their relationships on a purely sexual level before developing deeper feelings for each other.
“It wasn’t when I was in my twenties and with Robert and we both wanted the same thing,” Pascal agreed.
“What does he want that you don’t?” Martine said.
Sex, Pascal almost said, but that wasn’t true. He wanted to have sex with Mathias. He had just wanted to wait for their relationship to support it. “I don’t know, but it always feels like he’s ten steps ahead of me, rushing into everything, rushing into a relationship, rushing into bed, just rushing.”
“He is young. That’s pretty normal, I’d think. How long did it take you and Robert to fall into bed?” Nicole said.
Pascal shrugged. “I don’t remember. Probably not as long as it should have.”
“Why should it have taken longer?” Nicole asked. “If you loved each other—and you obviously did—why would waiting have made a difference?”
“Because I’m not sure I knew I loved him when it happened,” Pascal replied. “And no, I’m not such a prude that I think you should only have sex with people you love, but I’m not a big fan of sex for the sake of sex either.”
“How does Mathias feel about it?”
He looked away, unable to keep Nicole’s gaze with the weight of that question hanging in the air. “You haven’t seen the way he flirts at the bar.”
“I’ve seen the way you flirt here,” Martine said. “You flirt with us the entire time we’re here. You’ve never taken any of us home with you.”
“That’s because I’m gay and you’re married.”
“Not the point. Just because he flirts to keep the customers happy and make better tips doesn’t mean he’s sleeping around or even that he wants to sleep around. Give him a little credit.”
“I’m trying, but I’ve
already had my great love story. I had my soul mate. Isn’t that what you call them in your books? The one fated person you were meant to love above all others.”
Camille, seated closest to him, patted his hand. “Soul mates are made, not fated.”
“And a second chance at love is the second oldest cliché in the book,” Hélène added.
“What’s the oldest?”
“Love at first sight,” they said in unison.
He laughed. “I dodged that one, at least.” He stood up. “I need to check on your appetizers and my other tables. I’ll think about what you said, though, and I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Pascal,” Hélène said as he started away. He turned back to look at her. “Did you have sex with Mathias?”
He nodded.
“Did you want to have sex with him?”
He smirked at her. “What kind of question is that?”
“Okay, let me phrase it this way. Did you intend to have sex with him when you did?”
That drew him up short. “No, I didn’t.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t want it to mean less to him than it did to me,” he said so softly he wasn’t sure they could hear him.
“Then maybe you should tell him that.”
Pascal nodded to show that he’d heard her, but he couldn’t answer, not with the realization surging through him of what he’d just said and all that it implied. He went through the mechanics of serving their appetizers, bringing the bill for his early table, and checking everything in the back to make sure all was running smoothly, not that he’d have noticed anything short of a grease fire. His mind was reeling, and he couldn’t seem to pull himself back together. Despite all his worries and fears, he’d started falling for Mathias, which only made his fears worse. If things didn’t work out, if Mathias left him…. He pushed the thought aside. He’d promised Benjamin he wouldn’t doom their relationship before it had a chance to start. He could do this. He could talk to Mathias on Saturday like an adult, and they could work things out. If it turned out they didn’t want the same things, he’d deal with it somehow. And if it turned out they did want the same things, maybe he could finally stop feeling like Damocles waiting for the sword to fall.
Chapter 14
MATHIAS ROLLED out of bed groggily on Saturday morning. He and Pascal had exchanged a few more texts since Wednesday’s invitation to go biking, enough to establish that they both had late nights on Friday and that they shouldn’t try to wake up early to go out. They’d agreed to meet at one and go from there. His clock informed him it was eleven fifteen, which gave him plenty of time to take a shower and get ready to meet Pascal. He pushed open the drapes to see what the weather was like, only to be greeted by curtains of rain in the generously labeled “courtyard” outside his apartment. So much for biking. He reached for his phone to text Pascal about what they should do instead, but he changed his mind halfway through typing the message. He hated the hesitations he couldn’t get rid of, but he’d made such a mistake the last time he tried to take the initiative with Pascal that he felt paralyzed now. He set the phone back down and went into the bathroom. Whatever they ended up doing, he needed a shower before they did it. He could do that and hope Pascal had texted him by the time he finished.
He ran through the things he needed to say to Pascal in his mind as he turned the water to hot and waited for it to warm up enough to flip the water flow from the tub to the shower nozzle. He needed to apologize, first and foremost, to make sure Pascal understood he wouldn’t make the same mistake of taking silence for consent again. Then he needed to make sure Pascal had enjoyed it, even if he didn’t want to do it again anytime soon. And then he needed to see where that left them. He’d understand if Pascal was done with him, although hopefully his suggestion of doing something besides just talking meant that he wasn’t ready to kick Mathias to the curb just yet. What would be the point of planning to bike through the park if he intended to break up with Mathias? Of course that wasn’t a guarantee, but he clung to the hope as he shampooed his hair and washed away the smell of sweat and alcohol that lingered from his shift last night.
It had been insanely busy, which was good for tips, but he’d had more than the usual number of handsy customers, and that left him feeling doubly dirty. He wouldn’t have minded if those hands had belonged to Pascal, but he’d had enough of strangers groping his ass. He’d still wear the tight jeans and the shirts that rode up to expose a hint of skin, and he’d still smile at them, one step short of inviting, because that’s what was expected in a place like Le Salon, but the little thrill he’d gotten when he first started at the thought that he was attractive enough for someone to want to grope him had long since worn off.
If Pascal wanted to grope him, on the other hand….
Mathias stopped that thought before he could complete it. He’d already pushed the limits of acceptable behavior with Pascal once. He wouldn’t do it again. He’d wait for Pascal to bring it up if it killed him.
He shut the water off and reached for his towel, refusing to dwell on the memories of how good it had felt to have Pascal’s hands on him. It didn’t matter how good they’d felt. He’d have to do without.
When he was dressed, he picked up his phone to check out of habit, not that he expected to have a message from Pascal yet. It wasn’t even noon, and they weren’t supposed to meet until one. To his surprise, Pascal’s name appeared at the top of his text record.
No biking today, I’m afraid. Come upstairs whenever you’re ready. We can have lunch and talk.
Whenever you’re ready…. Mathias wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, but that was a different problem.
I have to shower and get dressed. I’ll be up in about half an hour. That would give him a little more time to get his thoughts together and wouldn’t make him seem too eager to see Pascal. The thought hurt, because a week ago, he’d have jumped at the chance for a little more time, but he’d blown that when he couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Take your time. I’ll be here.
Mathias set his phone aside and paced the length of his bedroom. He’d bought himself time, but now he had to fill it. He could eat, but Pascal had mentioned lunch. If he ate something now, he wouldn’t be hungry for lunch. He didn’t know what Pascal had planned since they had talked about going biking, not having lunch, but even so, it would be rude to refuse.
He ran his hand through his hair and wondered if he should style it. He’d have to do it before he went to Le Salon that night. It would save time later if he did it now, but he’d come from the bar on Tuesday, all tight clothes, spiked hair, and out-of-control libido. Maybe it would be better to stay as far from that persona as possible for the next while, certainly until he knew where he stood with Pascal.
He went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. That would help pass the time, and the caffeine would wake him up more. He was already jittery, but he didn’t figure it could get any worse, caffeine or no caffeine. When the coffee was ready, he made himself sit at the table and sip at it until half an hour had passed.
He set the cup in the sink to deal with later, pulled on a pair of shoes, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. His pulse pounded in his ears as he knocked on Pascal’s door and waited. He stuck his hands into his pockets, trying for nonchalant, although with his luck, it made him look like a kid. He certainly felt like one.
Pascal answered the door promptly, looking as put together as ever in a simple long-sleeved shirt and gray slacks. Mathias bit his lip, a reminder to himself to stay in control.
“Come in. How was work last night?”
“Busy,” Mathias said. “Not that I’m complaining. I make more money that way.” He stepped inside so Pascal could close the door behind him. “What about you?”
“Thursday was slow because of the weather, but we had a crowd last night. I didn’t get home until after one.” Pascal gestured for Mathias to precede him into the living room. Mathias took a
seat in the armchair, not sure Pascal would want to sit next to him on the couch. The tension in the room built until Mathias couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’m sorry about Tuesday night,” he blurted out. “I was out of line. I didn’t even give you a chance to say no.” It wasn’t the most elegant apology he could have given, but at least it got everything out in the open.
Pascal looked surprised at that. “I seem to remember your ass in the air, not the other way around. You hardly forced me into fucking you.”
Mathias’s cheeks burned at the blunt words, his skin too tight over bone. He remembered all too clearly how it had felt to have Pascal behind him, reaming him until he couldn’t breathe with it. He shifted on the cushion. “Maybe not, but I didn’t exactly ask before I started pulling your clothes off either.”
Pascal shrugged. “What’s done is done. We had sex. It happens.”
Mathias’s stomach sank. He hadn’t imagined the conversation would be easy, but he’d hoped for… something besides this casual indifference. “What happens now?”
Pascal sighed and ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in a way Mathias would have found irresistible in any other circumstances. “I don’t know. That’s why you’re here. So we can figure it out. At least I hope that’s why you’re here.”
“Yes, of course.” Relief surged through Mathias, speeding his pulse and stealing his breath. Pascal might not have answers, but he wasn’t ending things either. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want that. After I….”
“After you barged in with sex on your mind when you knew I wasn’t ready for that to be on the table,” Pascal finished. He held up his hand when Mathias started to apologize again. “You didn’t force me into anything. I could have stopped you and I didn’t. That’s not the issue.”