Photographing Memory: A Friends To Lovers Romance

by Bates, Aiden

  He jumped when a stack of folders landed in his in box. He followed the tall column of paperwork up until he found Chad’s grinning face at the top.

  Alex had loved that face once, back in college. They were better off as friends, but Alex had resented the way Chad had broken it off with him at the time. Now he just resented the reams of paper Chad dumped into his life.

  Not that he had any right to resent them. Chad had been instrumental in Alex getting this job, and if he hadn’t helped Alex to get this promotion, he’d eat his shoe. “Hey, Chad. Thanks for those. Any deadline?”

  “Not really. The sooner the better, like always. You never know who’s watching.”

  He propped himself up on the edge of Alex’s desk and checked his watch — a Breitling, one that cost more than three months’ rent for Alex. “It’s just about lunchtime. Did you have any plans?”

  Alex shook his head and looked balefully at the pile in his in box. “I’d figured I’d grab something from the cafeteria and bring it back. The usual.”

  Chad’s grin shifted to a smirk, just for a second, and he chuckled. “You can probably afford to step away from your desk for a second or two. I’m pretty sure that’s allowed.”

  He leaned closer and wagged his eyebrows at Alex. “Come on, I happen to know they don’t actually chain you to your desk here.”

  Alex laughed, remembering an offhand comment Jordan had made back on their date Sunday. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I was here for an awfully long time last night. I should probably move around a little, just to keep myself awake.”

  He closed his laptop and put it into a drawer, locked the drawer, and followed Chad out of the Institutional Investing area. Chad led the way down to the cafeteria. Not many companies still had a cafeteria anymore, and fewer still had one as great as Charles River Bank’s.

  They asked a lot of their employees, and they knew it. In return, they made sure they offered fantastic benefits, not all of which were tangible. The cafeteria offered better food than Alex had found almost anywhere else in Boston, and did it at cost.

  He got himself a salad special and waited for Chad, who was getting something from the sandwich station, before they found seats near the back of the dining area. Chad smiled over at Alex.

  “So the higher-ups were pretty impressed with the way you just powered through those plans I asked you to set up. I don’t think they were expecting you to get through them quite so fast.”

  Alex blushed. He’d always thrived on praise, especially from Chad. This was no different.

  “I wanted to make sure there was time to fix them if there were any errors. You know how it is, especially when you start a new job. I’m not new to the company, but I’m new to the role. It’s kind of intimidating.”

  “Of course.” Chad tucked into his sandwich. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. That’s why I brought them to you. I know exactly how conscientious you are — how you’ve always been.

  “So what’ve you been up to these days? I know you’ve been burning the midnight oil here, but what else have you been doing with yourself?”

  Alex huffed out a little laugh. Chad, of all people, had to know there wasn’t time for anything else when you worked for Charles River Bank. If employees found time to squeeze a workout in, they were lucky. “Commuting, mostly,” he said. “I did have a date on Sunday.”

  Chad’s blue eyes widened, and for just a second, his generous mouth puckered into a sulky kind of pout. Then he laughed. “You did? Seriously? Where did you find the time to meet someone?”

  Alex snorted. He must have imagined Chad’s little pout, or else Chad had been kidding. Chad wasn’t that guy, and even if he had been, Chad had been the one who’d dumped Alex.

  “Ah, my roommates were giving me a hard time, you know? Ragging on me about how much time I spend at work, how I’m watching my youth slip away entirely, that kind of thing. You know how guys can be.”

  Chad gave an eyeball that would be worthy of an Oscar for Best Drama. “Yeah, okay, sure. I don’t see them complaining about your take-home pay, or your bonus, or any of that, though.”

  Alex laughed, and some of the tension he’d been carrying between his shoulder blades eased away. He’d known Chad would get it. “Right? I know they mean well, but it does get irritating after a little while.

  “Anyway, my one roommate, Devon, he gets it a little better than the others do, because the hours he works are so weird. He kind of dared me to go on a blind date. Mostly to prove I wasn’t becoming some kind of drone who was going to die at his desk.”

  “Wait, this was a blind date?” Chad hooted with laughter. “Oh, come on, Alex. If that was what you were willing to settle for, you could have done online dating, at least.”

  Alex heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t about that. I don’t have time for dating yet. At least, I didn’t.”

  “You still don’t, Alex.” Chad leaned forward, face deadly serious. “A hookup here and there is one thing, but you’re young. The choices you make now will make or break your career, your whole life. You need to prove you’re serious about making it in banking and finance. There’s plenty of time for romance and dating later on.”

  Alex bit the inside of his cheek. “I know that, Chad. Did you miss the part where I said I’d do the date just to make a point to Devon?”

  “Sure. Just make sure you keep your eyes on the prize, kid. Don’t forget why you’re here.” Chad sat back, chewing on a potato chip like the answers to life and the universe were inside it or something.

  Alex looked away. Chad was right, and he knew Chad was right, but it still set his teeth on edge for him to put it that way.

  Alex hadn’t been uncomfortable with Chad’s guidance before. He’d only been uncomfortable since Sunday. Funny how that worked.

  “Well, anyway, I show up to this blind date, and who’s the guy Devon set me up with but the guy I had a crush on in middle school?”

  Chad’s jaw dropped, and after a second he managed a weak laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Wasn’t that back in, like, Midwest Hell or something?”

  “Ohio,” Alex confirmed with a little laugh. As far as Chad was concerned, anything west of Worcester was Midwest Hell. “And yeah. His family moved here not long after mine moved to Texas, and he and Devon know each other through … some weird combination of social circles.”

  Alex barely remembered to self-censor the details. Chad found even the mention of left-wing activism repulsive. Alex didn’t so much want Chad to like Jordan as he wanted to avoid setting Chad off on a rant. “I actually have no idea how they met, but they’re friends and have been for years.”

  “Small world, huh?” Chad shook his head in disbelief and toyed with his sandwich. He’d stopped eating it, and now he was making little snowballs from the bread instead. “So you saw him again for the first time in, what, ten years? Nine?”

  “Nine seems about right. It was good to see him. A little weird, though. You know, the guy you thought you were going to be when you grew up, and the guy you are, they’re rarely the same person.

  “Except for Jordan — he actually did exactly what he planned when we were kids. He decided he was going to be an artist, and now he’s doing exactly that. He must be doing pretty well, too, because he’s making enough to live on his own. No roommates or anything.”

  “Must be nice. Or he’s running drugs on the side.” Chad sat up a little straighter and turned his attention to the lettuce from his sandwich.

  “What?” Alex laughed out loud. “Where did that come from?”

  “Come on, Alex. You know better than to think someone, especially someone your age, is going to be able to earn a solid living through art. There’s got to be some other way, something he’s not willing to tell you, for him to supplement his income. And you know it.”

  Chad wagged his finger at Alex. “Mark my words, he’ll pop up with a rap sheet a mile long.”

  “Oh my God.” Alex wadded up a piece of his napkin and tossed i
t at Chad. “Would you listen to yourself? His parents are both artists too. They could help him get started and make introductions for him, just like your dad was able to do for you in banking. It’s no different!”

  He laughed as his impromptu missile hit Chad straight between the eyebrows and fell into his lap. “No, it’s just funny. Jordan was absolutely shocked to find out that I’m working here, you know? When I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist too.”

  “You?” Chad scoffed. “No way. You’re about as artistic as a mule. I’ve never seen you so much as doodle in the margins during class.”

  “Probably because I was busy paying attention, Chad. But yeah. Sometimes things don’t work out the way you thought they would when you were a kid. I’d almost forgotten I used to draw, you know? And Jordan reminded me of it.”

  “Then you need to stay the hell away from him.” Chad’s eyes bored into Alex. “I’m serious. You can’t let anything distract you from your goals.

  “I mean it. You’ve worked too hard to get sidetracked now. How much are the guys you knew in college making? How much are the guys you share that hovel with making?”

  Alex nibbled on the end of a string bean from his salad. “Yeah. I get it, I’m making more than they are. And I work damn hard to do exactly that.”

  “You do, and you’re well rewarded for it.” Chad gave Alex a hard look. “Look at my dad over there.” He jerked his head over toward the Executive Vice President for Global Services.

  “Do you think he got to his position by sitting around and sketching? No. He got there through hard work, sacrifice, and networking. No one’s going to want to network with someone who thinks of himself as an artiste.”

  He adjusted his tie. “And Alex, no one’s going to want to network with someone associated with anything even remotely sketchy. Everyone loves to talk about artists, but only the dead ones, you know?

  “No one wants to admit to knowing them when they’re alive, because frankly, they’re all a little weird and they’re all on drugs. And if you’re involved with one of them, they’re going to avoid you like they’d avoid someone with rotting skin.”

  “Oh come on, Chad. I’m a peon here. No one actually cares who I date.” A knot of fear took shape in Alex’s stomach.

  “On the contrary. Our whole job, our whole thing in a bank, is to make other people feel safe and confident in where they put their money. They want to see people who look trustworthy.

  “That’s why we show up in suits and ties every day, even when the temperature is in triple digits. That’s why we don’t get to do face tattoos and funky hair, even if we’re in IT.”

  Chad set his jaw. “I’m surprised I have to spell all this stuff out for you, Alex. I mean, seriously. We get fingerprinted, just in case someone gets the idea to make off with something.

  “Do you really think our character isn’t cause for concern? If you start running around with some sleazy so-called artist who hangs around with drug dealers and hookers, you can kiss your promotion prospects goodbye. I’m serious.

  If you have to be with someone, if you have to start seeing someone while you’re this young, do a dating app. Start seeing someone from the Young Republicans, or something. But give this Jordan guy a wide berth if you want your career to take off.”

  Alex smiled nervously and changed the subject. It was way too early to think seriously about his relationship with Jordan, but he couldn’t believe what Chad was saying. Was Charles River Bank that draconian about their employees’ personal lives? Was it just something unwritten?

  Why would Chad lie, though? Chad had been a good mentor to him ever since they’d broken up, even helping him to get his job at Charles River Bank. He’d grown up immersed in the culture here. If he said something was off limits, Alex should take him seriously.

  At the same time, it had just been a date. And Alex wasn’t about to walk away from someone he’d missed for close to a decade just because Chad had something weird against artists.

  6

  Alex met Jordan for dinner late on Sunday night. He’d been hoping to get together earlier, but Jordan had had some kind of a discussion or presentation over at the Institute of Contemporary Art. Alex hadn’t failed to notice that the ICA was closer to Jordan’s house, and that it would be much easier for Alex to meet him there, but Jordan had demurred.

  “Look,” he said, “I appreciate that you’re willing to go that far for me, but you’ve got to get up early for your job, and I don’t have any clients scheduled until a lot later. So we’ll meet up near your place. It’s fine.”

  The consideration, the kindness, meant the world to Alex.

  They got dinner at a little place on Glenville, tucked away where not a lot of the undergrad crowd tended to go. It was pricier than Alex usually liked, but he could deal with it. “So how was the discussion at the ICA?” He nibbled on his mussels, trying to stretch them out.

  “Oh, it went pretty well. It was me and this other guy, Karl. We were talking about getting good shots in the heat of the moment, like during a fight or a riot or a protest. It’s kind of hard to do, you know? People aren’t about to stop and pose."

  He paused and scratched at his adorably disheveled brown hair. “I mean, sometimes they do, don’t get me wrong, but then everyone around them trips and they get mad at you, not at the dimwits who stopped in the middle of a million people to take a damn picture.”

  Alex had to laugh at that. “I’ll bet. So you were giving the talk, not in the audience?”

  Jordan beamed with a kind of quiet, humble pride. “Yeah. It was pretty good publicity, right? And honestly, it was fun, too.”

  Alex reached out and took Jordan’s hand. It was hard to ignore that little jolt, that spark of electricity that moved from Jordan to Alex, but he had to try. “I wish you’d made that clearer. I’d have loved to come and hear you talk.”

  “Nah, I’d have gotten all flustered.” Jordan met his eyes and waved his free hand. “Can you imagine? It would have been such a mess. ‘Hi, my name’s Jordan Davenport, I’m an artist, and holy crap that’s a great set of eyes.’ Folks love that.”

  Alex laughed and blushed. “Ah, come on.”

  “No, really. You’re a pretty distracting guy. I think all the guys in your office must be straight, because damn. I don’t see how they get any work done. Not that I’m complaining." Jordan got back to his meal.

  Alex didn’t want to admit how much he liked the praise, but truth be told, he loved it. Jordan’s words made him feel beautiful, and he liked feeling beautiful. Everyone did, really, but right now it was Jordan making him feel beautiful.

  Jordan had formed all Alex’s ideas about what made someone attractive or masculine. That suddenly seemed a lot more interesting and important than a bowl of mussels. But Alex was paying for those mussels, so he was going to eat every last one of them, damn it.

  When they finished eating, Jordan walked Alex home like the gentleman he was. Part of Alex found it a little ridiculous, since he was a grown man in his own neighborhood, but he wasn’t ready to part ways with Jordan yet. Maybe Jordan wasn’t ready, either.

  They held hands as they navigated the damp, narrow streets, and Jordan kissed him twice under the streetlights. It almost flustered Alex, to be treated like this. He felt beautiful, cherished, and loved. He felt wanted.

  They got back to the house Alex shared with his roommates, and in a rare stroke of fate, Alex had the place to himself. He had to shovel a pile of junk off of the couch, which would normally infuriate him. Today, he just tossed it all onto the floor in one fell swoop. “Can I get you anything? I can get you a beer, or put a movie on, or whatever.”

  “I really just want you.” Jordan wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulder and touched his lips to Alex’s.

  The whole world went quiet. Alex couldn’t hear anything from the outside world — not the train yard, not the usual symphony of varying sirens, not the fraternity brothers shouting “Whoo!” in the streets. All Alex could hear w
as his own heart, racing in his ears.

  He opened up eagerly to Jordan’s kiss, giving the other man everything he had. A small — pathetically tiny — part of him lectured in his head about how he shouldn’t be doing this in the common area, and no one wanted to see people playing tonsil hockey or whatever. That voice got dimmer and dimmer as he drank in Jordan’s slight patchouli scent.

  Jordan’s hand slipped under his shirt, and Alex let out a little moan. Sure, he’d had a few hookups here and there, but nothing quite held up to the touch of someone who knew him, someone who cared about him.

  He pulled back to give Jordan access to anything he wanted, and Jordan seemed more than happy to take anything Alex wanted to give. His artist’s hands traced every curve, every line, every muscle and hollow.

  Alex needed to know those spaces on Jordan, too. He climbed on top of him and grinned as he felt Jordan’s hard cock pressing against his own. At least he wasn’t the only one having a problem.

  He rocked his hips, just a little bit, and was rewarded with a moan from Jordan’s generous mouth. Alex wasn’t far behind him, because even this limited contact felt incredible.

  “I’ve got to touch you,” Jordan gasped. “Please, please let me touch you.”

  Alex allowed himself a moment of pride. Here was Jordan, beautiful Jordan, begging him. He nodded. “Yeah. Yes, please. Touch me all you want.”

  Jordan unbuckled Alex’s belt impatiently, like it had personally offended him. He was a little bit gentler with his fly, but not by much. A few seconds later, blessed cool air enveloped Alex’s superheated cock.

  Jordan stared at it for a second. “Oh God." He wrapped a hand around it, and Alex had to grab onto Jordan’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

  Jordan’s hand felt too good on his skin. Alex had no idea how he’d manage to last.

  Jordan jerked gently at first, and Alex knew he’d died and gone to heaven. This wasn’t real. There was no way the guy he’d had a crush on since childhood was here, doing this, and feeling so good while doing it. Alex had endured some terrible hand jobs, but Jordan knew just how to touch him so that every stroke brought bliss.