Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set
Page 97
I heard every other word as she led me briskly to him. “So funny…here all the time…”
“Cassie, how are you?” Miles hugged his friend then turned to offer a quick introduction. “Grant, this is Cassie. She’s always so helpful. I’m just getting a gift card today and maybe a couple of treats. But I need Grant’s opinion.”
Cassie nodded profusely and inched away from the table. “Okay. If you need me, just holler. And—do you mind if I ask if you guys are…you know?”
I hated invasive questions like that, but I figured since she was Miles’s acquaintance, he could field it. I stared off into space and waited for his “roommate” spiel while I formulated a strongly worded “let’s get the hell out of here” speech for him in my head. When a strained silence went on a moment too long, I cocked my head curiously as I noted a slow-moving flush color his face a deep shade of pink. I fought a smile but eventually gave in because damn, he was really fucking cute.
I grinned and bumped Miles’s shoulder. “Yeah, we are.”
Cassie squealed and then fanned her face dramatically. “You win the Best Couple in the Universe award. Wow. So cool. Congrats. I’ll let you shop around. You know where to find me if you need my help, Miles. Oh and Grant…so nice to meet you!”
“You too. Thanks.” I turned back to Miles and snickered. “Your face is red. I’m talking tomato red. Ow! What was that for?”
Miles scowled when I rubbed my bicep then huffed and glanced down at a pile of lacy thongs. “Why did you let her think we were up for Best Couple in the Universe?”
“According to her, we already won it. By the way, what are we doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered distractedly as he turned away from me.
“Why are you cranky all of a sudden?”
“I’m not cranky. You are,” he said without heat.
“No, I’m just curious about”—I fingered a piece of lace and quirked my brow—“this stuff.”
“I would have thought G-strings would be a no-brainer.”
“On a guy, sure. But this is a women’s store. Are you really a regular here?”
Miles huffed. “You sound like an old fart. Welcome to the twenty-first century. Does it really matter if a man shops for lace or a woman shops for a tie? I’m a regular because I’m a mall rat. I love bopping around all the stores and seeing what’s new. Is that wrong?”
“Of course not.” I moved into his space so close I could smell his aftershave. “Are you buying something…for you?”
“Maybe.” He picked up a red thong and held it up for me to inspect. “What do you think of this one?”
I ran my fingers over the lacy material then looked into his eyes. “Who’s going to wear this?”
“Me. It’s an option anyway,” he added before sifting through the pile and holding up a leopard-skin print. “Or this one. Can you picture me in it?”
I gulped. “Well…it looks uncomfortable. Maybe a little too tight.”
Miles shrugged then picked up a few more for my inspection. “Not if I get the right size. Do you like any of these?”
“Are you into lace and stuff? Because I know a shop in the Castro that sells this kind of thing, but it’s meant for guys. And drag queens.”
“I know that place,” he said nonchalantly. “Have you ever bought anything there?”
“No. I’m not into specialty underwear. For myself. But if you are, I’m cool with that.”
Miles beamed, clearly enjoying himself. “Hmm. Seems funny that someone who used to model underwear is so shy about it now.”
“I’m not shy about underwear. But this isn’t underwear. It’s butt floss, baby.”
Miles threw his head back and laughed. “But it’s sexy.”
“Then buy it. Or I’ll buy it for you.”
He bit his bottom lip and flared his nostrils like he was trying to hold in his mirth. “You’d buy me butt floss?”
I chuckled then sidestepped for a young mom jockeying her stroller down the narrow aisle. “Sure. It’s the least I can do for the other half of the ‘most awesome couple in the universe.’ ”
“Ha! I think we just got ‘the best.’ Which pales slightly in comparison to ‘awesome.’ Personally, I think we should aspire to something even better like, ‘the super coolest most freaking awesome best.’ Sound good?”
“Hmph. How many of those are you getting?” I asked when he moved on to the boyfriend-style lace undies on the next table.
“Well, it’s a better deal if I buy three. Red, black and…you choose the third.”
I gave him a blank stare he seemed to think was hysterical. When his laughter drew the attention of a few shoppers in the vicinity, I picked up a white pair and marched toward the register. Miles hurried after me and nudged my elbow when he stood beside me in line.
“White? You don’t think it’s too virginal? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he whispered.
I rolled my eyes. “Too late, Mi. I know you’re not a virgin.”
“But I could be ‘Like a Virgin,’ ” he teased. On cue, he hummed the Madonna classic softly.
His bubbly excitement and good cheer were contagious. I chuckled at his slightly off-key rendition, but when he turned up the volume, I ordered him out.
“I’ll buy these. You figure out where we’re eating. I’m hungry,” I commanded, angling my head toward the exit.
Chapter 10
Fifteen minutes later, we were seated next to a window overlooking Market Street. The twinkle of headlights and street lamps from six feet below lent a romantic quality to the simple bistro setting. We ordered soup and a pizza to share and made small talk while we sipped iced teas and waited for our food to arrive.
“I never thought I’d be up for commuting to work via helicopter, but I love it,” Miles said, squeezing lemon into his drink. “It was a bumpy ride this morning, but Eric pointed out that it helps to liken hitting air pockets to a boat riding the waves.”
“That sounds like something he’d say.” I chuckled as the server returned to set our meals on the table. I waited until we were alone again to continue.
“Mmm. This looks good. Are you going to have a slice of pizza?”
“I’m going to have five slices,” I assured him.
He stirred his soup and smiled. “Thanks for meeting me here tonight.”
“My pleasure. I’m not much of a mall guy, but I couldn’t wait to get away from the office tonight.”
“Rough day?”
I frowned as I ran my fingers through the condensation on my glass. “Weird day. Do you remember Tom from the EN Tech party at Conrad Winery a couple of months ago?”
Miles went still and gently lowered his spoon. “Yes. Chad’s high school buddy. Ugh. Why?”
“Turns out he’s the artist our client strongly suggested we use for their renderings. He showed up for a meeting this afternoon at the office. It was so out of context that it took a minute to get over my surprise.”
“Whoa. That is weird,” he commented, lifting his spoon to his lips.
We ate in silence for a few moments. I had no idea what was going on in Miles’s head, but I was having trouble keeping up with my own thoughts anyway. It seemed unwise to divulge any details of the meeting with Tom. Especially the one about letting Stockton and my father think there was something between us. I couldn’t decide if the whole thing was harmless or really fucking stupid.
“I doubt I’ll see him much. He’s already done the bulk of the drawings. He just has to make them pretty and turn them over to us. Talia can handle that,” I said. Yeah. See? I just needed to think it through while I spoke. And now that I’d worked it out, I realized I’d blown it up. This wasn’t a big deal.
“Doesn’t the developer usually take care of the renderings? Why would the real estate firm have a say?” he asked.
“Part of the contract we’re hoping to win will allow us to build out a few premier units ourselves. We’ll use the developer’s floor plan but
implement our own designs. It’s actually one of my favorite things to choose materials, lighting, and fixtures, and then stage a few models. We need a renderer to get our ideas across for the developer to sign off on and if we win the contract, we can use them to sell the condos.”
“I bet you’re good at that. Your townhouse could be in a modern home magazine. Did you ever think about studying interior design or architecture?”
I narrowed my gaze then dabbed the corner of my mouth. “Aren’t you going to ask me about Tom? It’s weird. Don’t you think so?”
“Of course I think it’s weird! Hey, I want to believe in fairies and magic as much as the next good gay, but I draw the line at coincidence. Especially when it comes to a guy I made a fool of myself in front of more than once. But what can I do? I have a reputation of being a wild card when I get bent out of shape over circumstances beyond my control. I don’t think asking him why he’s suddenly doing business with my roommate-slash-fuck buddy is such a great idea.”
“Hey!”
Miles looked momentarily taken aback. “Contrary to what the staff at Victoria’s Secret thinks, we aren’t boyfriends. The worst thing I can possibly do is worry about that smarmy creep trying to get in your pants.”
“Would you please lower your voice?” I hissed angrily.
He huffed then picked up his spoon again. “Fine. If you don’t want an honest answer, don’t ask what I think next time.”
“Look at me.” I waited for him to comply before I spoke. “He’s not getting anywhere near my pants. You’re special to me, Mi. And if you want us to—”
“No,” he said sharply. “There’s no need for drama. I don’t want to get in the way of your deal. If you want me to step aside, just tell me.”
I knitted my brows and leaned in. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. I have zero interest in Tom.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay?”
“I didn’t accuse you of being interested in him,” he replied in a casual tone.
“Maybe not, but you’re shutting me out because I told you something you didn’t want to hear. Admit it.”
“Fine. I admit it,” he conceded unhappily. “And that makes me sound like a jealous twit, so let’s change the subject. Fast. What do you like about interior design?”
I took a moment to admire his steely resolve to push this aside for now and move on. No doubt Tom brought to mind his ex and the man who’d replaced him and everything about that bothered me. I wracked my brain for topics that would keep him in the moment. With me. When I couldn’t think of anything new, I decided to follow his lead and start with design.
“Modern design is my favorite. I like clean lines and muted colors. I always have. Even when I was a kid, my room was the neatest and tidiest in the house. My shoes were perfectly lined in my closet, and my clothes were organized by color,” I admitted with a laugh.
“Nothing much has changed there,” he teased. He pulled a slice of margherita pizza onto his plate then cut into it with a knife and fork. “Were you always interested in fashion too?”
“I was more fascinated than genuinely interested. In a way, poring through ads in Vogue was my version of your trips to the mall. The extravagance and glamor were so far removed from my world. I used to buy GQ and Harper’s Bazaar and spend hours daydreaming about places I wanted to go and things I wanted to see. I was always looking for a way out.”
“Is that why you decided to be a model?”
“Partly,” I replied vaguely as I pushed my soup bowl away and reached for the pizza. “Truthfully, I didn’t decide to be a model. I ran away and…shit happened.”
Miles paused with his fork mid-air. “Ran away? Like ran away from home?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it, or should I shut up and eat?”
I shot him a lopsided grin then bit into my pizza. I chewed and swallowed while I thought about how much was too much to share. But I quickly decided it was old news, and Miles most likely wouldn’t judge my younger, stupid self for making rash decisions…so I spilled my guts.
“The short version is, I met someone when I was seventeen and fell in love. Or lust. Or whatever it is when you can’t think about someone without getting a boner. He was an American student at the University of Toronto but when he graduated, he was going home to LA. He suggested I go with him and even offered to buy my ticket. So I went. I left a note for my folks—”
“Whoa. Back up. That’s not like you. You’re not the type to leave like that. No way. You love your family. Something happened. What was it?”
My mouth went dry. I sipped my iced tea, hoping it would chase away the taste of sawdust. How did he do that? How could he know me by just…looking?
“I came out.”
“Oh.”
“Oh. It didn’t go well. I wasn’t ever going to tell them. I knew it wasn’t what any of them wanted. A gay son was a death knell to a macho guy like my dad. But I struggled to keep it to myself after I met Troy.”
“Troy,” Miles repeated. “Sounds like a typical gym bunny name.”
“Since he’s a man, I think the term is ‘gym rat.’ Kind of like you being a ‘mall rat.’ ”
“Hmph. What’s with you and the gym studs? Do you always date muscle men?”
“Until you…yeah, I guess so,” I replied.
“We aren’t dating,” he snipped sharply.
“Right. Do you want to hear this story or not?” I waited for his nod before I continued. “Anyway…Troy was my first everything. First kiss, first hand job, first—”
“I get the picture,” he said irritably.
“He was twenty-two, tall, blond, and yes…muscular. The man was an Adonis with charisma to spare. I couldn’t believe someone like him looked twice at someone like me.” I paused with a wink, hoping he’d notice it was the same phrase he’d used to describe us weeks ago. Miles rolled his eyes and motioned for me to continue. “I couldn’t see the attraction on his side but fuck, I wasn’t going to question it. I wanted to soak up some of his joie de vivre and his mind-boggling confidence. I spent every spare minute I had with him and of course, my parents noticed. The day of reckoning came when I skipped out of a family party to be with him. They were angry. My father demanded to know what the hell I was doing and who that man was to me. So I told him, ‘I’m gay and he’s my boyfriend.’ And all hell broke loose.”
“I take it they were upset,” Miles prodded gently, setting his hand over mine.
I released my death-grip on my spoon and let it clatter noisily against the bowl.
“Upset is putting it lightly. I don’t want to go through the whole thing in brutal detail, but I wish I had a crappier memory sometimes. My dad was stunned and then furious and then…nothing. He wouldn’t speak for days. To anyone. At seventeen, it seemed like the math was simple. I’d fucked up at home. I’d brought shame and unhappiness. I was as miserable there as they were. But with Troy…I was a better version of myself. I had my bulimia mostly under control and even though I was a little too thin, I was happier.”
“I understand. You were a selfish bastard who was getting laid on the regular and took the easy way out. Is that right?”
I huffed derisively then gave a reluctant shrug. “Maybe so. But give me a break. I was seventeen, and I’d grown up in a very insular world. I was scared shitless of going against what was expected of me. I took my father’s silence and my mother’s incessant praying and cooking as a sign. I tried to talk to my dad before I left but…he said he wasn’t ready. He asked me to leave. I don’t think he meant, ‘Leave the country,’ but…”
“So then what?”
“I went to LA. Troy’s sister worked for a modeling agent, and thus began my mostly low-profile modeling career. I was lucky. Troy’s family was good to me. We lived in a converted apartment over his parents’ garage. They opened their home to me and offered encouragement. His dad suggested that I apply for college, and the rest is history.”
I burst into laughter. “I’m brilliant, asshole.”
“Really? I mean…I’m sure you are,” he said in a condescending tone. “But really…how did you get in?”
I took a bite of pizza and studied my handsome companion. I loved the way even subpar recessed café lighting turned strands of his auburn hair into gold. His eyes sparked with curiosity and outrage. He was so impatient. Always barreling headfirst into conversations and situations, on a mad quest to know everything possible.
“I was a math and business major. I’m good with numbers,” I said, flashing a wide grin.
“Ah. And the BF and the parents?”
“Troy and I broke up my freshman year in college. We weren’t cut out for a long-distance relationship. I thought about giving up my education and sticking with modeling, but my parents intervened. I stayed in contact with them when I went to California. I didn’t want them to think I disappeared. Later on, I found out they sent money to Troy’s folks for my room and board. They came to see me a couple of times, and when I told them about Stanford…they were happy for me. Really happy.
“Sixteen years have gone by and I won’t claim it’s been smooth sailing, but we’ve come a long way. My parents are good people. They worked through their religious issues and macho ideology to accept me for who I am. And in return, I’m doing my best to make them proud. And maybe atone for being a horrible teenager.” I gestured at my uneaten pizza and gave him a faux dirty look. “Now you do the talking for a while, so I can eat something. Did I mention I’m starving?”
Miles pursed his lips and glanced out the window. He clandestinely brushed a tear from the corner of his eye then turned back.
“I really admire you. And your parents. I hope you know how lucky you are to have so much love in your life. Even when it threatens to suffocate you…it comes from a good, loving place.”