Playboy For Hire

5. Ryder

5

RYDER

W hat the hell had I done wrong?

Well, okay, that wasn’t an entirely fair question. I knew what I’d said that had upset Quinn, but I hadn’t realized it was going to bother him that much. Who gets mad about being complimented? Who gets huffy about being told that people aren’t lying to them?

Quinn, evidently.

I stared at the patio door that he’d stormed through and sighed. I’d fucked up. Even if I hadn’t meant to. And even though I was still pretty sure I was right, I didn’t like hurting Quinn’s feelings. Not just because he was a client, and I was supposed to make sure the evening went well. I actually liked Quinn.

I felt strangely comfortable around him. Or maybe it wasn’t strange. But I’d expected to feel a little uptight about tonight. I’d never had to pretend to be a guy’s boyfriend before. But instead, I just felt easy and relaxed—well, when he wasn’t snapping my head off, anyway.

It must have been because I didn’t feel any competition with him. He clearly wasn’t going to be interested in any of the girls I liked. He wasn’t an opponent on the soccer field. And he wasn’t a business major, competing for the same jobs I was. He was older, and had an apartment, and a job, and a life of his own. If anything, he should have looked down on me.

I’d just been trying to make him feel better. But clearly, I’d stumbled onto a touchy subject. I sighed. I supposed if I’d had relatives making me feel shitty my whole life, I’d be suspicious of compliments too.

As it was, my physical appearance was just about the only thing anyone did compliment me on. But that wasn’t relevant now. I needed to go find Quinn.

I walked inside and scanned the room for him. It was crowded, with people talking, laughing, and moving through the space in little clusters and huddles, eddies and swirls. Quinn’s grandparents hadn’t just invited their extended family. They’d invited friends, old coworkers and neighbors, and half the members of the church they used to go to in DC.

Swingy jazz music filled the room, with bright trumpets and trombones punctuating the guests’ conversations. I couldn’t see farther than ten feet in front of me, so I began to weave through the crowd. I was almost on top of Quinn before I realized I’d found him.

It was his mom, Barbara, who saw me first.

“Ryder, sweetheart,” she called out. “Come over here. We were just talking about you.”

She snagged my sleeve and tugged me gently towards Quinn and Robert, his father. I shot a nervous glance at Quinn. They’d been talking about me? Was he going to tell his parents we were breaking up or something?

“Well, that explains the burning in my ears,” I said with a grin. “I can only assume you were discussing my roguish good looks and devil-may-care attitude.”

“We were actually asking Quinn more about this bocce league,” Robert said. “He’s never been interested in sports before. I used to take him to Orioles games as a kid, and he wouldn’t even look up from his book.” His dad laughed. “Now, when he was high school valedictorian and graduated summa cum laude from Penn, I wasn’t complaining. Top of his class in his JD/MLS program too.” He clapped a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Couldn’t be prouder of my boy. But still—bocce?”

Quinn looked vaguely uncomfortable, and despite his earlier anger, the look he shot me was a clear plea for rescue.

“There’s actually a lot of strategy in bocce,” I said. “Sure, aim matters, but so does being able to switch between offensive and defensive play and predicting your opponent’s moves. I’d say it’s as much psychological as physical. And Quinn’s the smartest guy I know, so…”

I held my hands out and gave a helpless, endearing smile.

“So that’s how you two met?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. He still seemed uncomfortable. “Ryder kicked my ass the first time we played each other.”

“Purely through luck,” I said. “We were on opposing teams, and yeah, my team won, but by the end of the night I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted to know who the cute guy in the glasses was who treated each round like it was a chess game. So I walked over and asked if he’d tell me what was in the notebook he’d been holding all night. Turned out it was statistics and player histories, and honestly? I was smitten.”

Quinn flushed, and I continued. “I don’t need to tell you guys this, obviously, but you have an amazing son. I feel very lucky.” I looked over at him. “Sometimes I mess up and say stupid stuff. I know I don’t deserve him, but I’d rather apologize to him than be with anyone else, you know?”

Would Quinn understand what I was getting at? I was laying it on a little thick for his parents, but I hoped I was getting my point across.

Quinn smiled sheepishly. “We can both be idiots at times. I’m not always the easiest person to get along with. I can be kind of quick to judge. But Ryder reminds me to keep an open mind, and I’m grateful to have him in my life.”

I heaved an inward sigh of relief.

“If that isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Barbara. She smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re pulling Quinn out of his shell a bit.” Then she looked over at him. “This one’s a keeper, honey, you got that?”

Quinn shuffled his feet in embarrassment, but nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

There was something almost sad about the way he said it. Before I knew what I was doing, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. He looked at me in surprise, and I flashed him a smile, squeezing his hand one more time before dropping it.

The evening transitioned into dinner soon after that. I found Quinn and myself seated at a table with his cousin Layton and Layton’s wife Amanda, his cousin Julie and her boyfriend Brandon, and Emily and Chuck Miller, the children of Quinn’s grandparents’ former neighbors. Everyone was friendly enough, but Quinn seemed subdued.

Julie laughed and pointed at a bunch of tables close to the front of the room. “All our parents are up there being fancy,” she said, “and we’re stuck back here. I feel like we’re at the kids’ table at Thanksgiving. They must have put all the non-married people together.”

“Speak for yourself, Jules,” Layton said in mock offense. “You might be living in sin, but Amanda and I are married.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have kids of your own,” Julie said. “Which makes you still a child in this family’s eyes.”

Brandon laughed. “Anyway, we might not be living in sin for too much longer.”

Julie swatted at him playfully. “One of these days, you’re going to have to put up or shut up. You can’t keep teasing a girl about proposals like this without making her go crazy.”

“Maybe I just like you crazy,” he said. He pulled her in for a deep kiss, one that lasted longer than any of the rest of us wanted.

“Get a room,” Chuck said.

When Brandon finally pulled back, he waggled his eyebrows in Chuck’s direction. “You’re just jealous because some of us can actually get girls.”

“Oh, you’ve got girls, do you?” Julie said. “And who might they be? Because I know you’re not talking about me. I am a woman .”

“And more than enough woman for me,” Brandon said, nuzzling her ear and giving her another kiss—this one much shorter, to everyone’s relief.

Conversation moved on after that, but I couldn’t help noticing how quiet Quinn was. The whole time Brandon had been talking, Quinn had been stiff as a post, his eyes fixed on a pillar on the far side of the room. And when Brandon had kissed Julie, Quinn had suddenly become very engrossed in staring at a wine stain on the tablecloth. It was sort of the shape of a turtle, but it wasn’t that interesting.

I glanced over at Brandon and Julie, who were now talking about plans to go to Rehoboth Beach in April. What was going on there?

Quinn only grew more withdrawn as the evening progressed, and when the band began to play music during dessert, I stood up and took his hand, trying to pull him out of his seat and onto the dance floor.

“I really don’t dance,” he protested.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll teach you.” I shimmied and grinned at him, not releasing my grip on his hand.

“But I don’t actually want to.”

“That doesn’t matter either.”

I swung my hips back and forth—hard enough to make a woman at the table next to us say, “Ooh, I like this show.”

I glanced over my shoulder. She looked old enough to be my grandmother. I shook my hips some more. “I accept tips in the form of cash and chocolate cake.”

“Can I tuck it in your waistband?” she asked, her grin matching mine for lasciviousness.

“You can tuck it anywhere you want.” I winked, then turned back to Quinn, who still looked pained.

“Come on,” I wheedled. “It’ll do you good. Work off some of the calories from that dinner.”

He shook his head emphatically and opened his mouth to protest again, but I didn’t give him the chance. Quinn might have had an inch on me, height-wise, but I was way more muscular. I caught his other hand with my own and physically pulled him out of his seat. He had the choice of either falling on his face or following me to the dance floor.

“That’s better,” I said as we slipped into the sea of couples. “Now let’s see, how do we do this?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn said, sounding aggrieved. “I told you, I don’t dance.”

“Lucky for you, I do. And I can teach you.”

I pressed my lips together, thinking for a moment. I’d danced with plenty of women over the years—some who weren’t even clients. I could do the foxtrot, the Charleston, even a halfway-decent tango. But we didn’t have to do anything that complicated tonight.

I took Quinn’s left hand in my right, holding it out slightly, then put my left hand on his hips. He was taller than most women, so his hip was higher up than I was used to, but my hand fit there perfectly.

Quinn looked around like he was afraid people were watching us.

“Just put your other hand on my shoulder,” I instructed.

He did, but said, “I meant it when I said I don’t know how to dance.”

“And I meant it when I said I’d teach you. Don’t worry, we’ll start simple. Just sway your hips a little.”

“I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

I glanced around. “Quinn, absolutely nobody is staring at you, or me, or anyone other than the person they’re dancing with. I promise, no one is judging you.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled. “You look good doing this.”

“I do, don’t I?” I said with a laugh. I had the urge to spin him around once, but suppressed it. I didn’t think Quinn was ready for that.

I was honestly surprised by how natural this all felt. I moved us slowly across the floor—partially because it was so crowded, and partially because every time I moved, Quinn stepped on my feet. But it was really no different from dancing with a tall, somewhat clumsy woman. I’d thought it would feel strange, holding a guy like this. But I still had a hand clasped in mine, a body in my arms, someone’s eyes to look into.

It felt good. It felt right.

“You could dance with someone else, you know,” Quinn said after a moment. “I wouldn’t be jealous or anything. And I don’t think any of my family would find that weird. They know I don’t dance.”

“Yeah, but that would defeat the purpose.”

“What purpose?” he asked suspiciously.

“Getting you away from our table before you have an aneurysm.”

“What?” He blinked. He’d been paying so much attention to our conversation that he’d forgotten to step on my feet for the past fifteen seconds—a new record. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” I told him. “But I know something’s bothering you, and I think it has to do with Julie and Brandon. You’ve spent the past thirty minutes conspicuously not looking at them, which is impressive for a round, eight-person table.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. I’m not saying you have to tell me why. I’m just saying, I noticed that you seemed uncomfortable at our table, so I thought dancing might be a good idea.”

“So I can be even more uncomfortable?”

I laughed in spite of myself. “Something like that.”

Quinn looked away, his gaze traveling around the dance floor. I saw the moment he caught sight of Brandon and Julie. I felt it, too. His posture went rigid, and he froze, stamping on my right foot.

I turned us so Quinn was facing the opposite direction. “So, I never got to ask. What do you do in your free time? I’m assuming it’s not dance classes.”

“Definitely not.”

“So what do you do instead?”

He looked down. “Nothing too exciting. My life is pretty boring, really. And nerdy.”

“I can work with nerdy. Nerdy how? Are you a member of your grandma’s book club too?”

“No, but I do read a fair bit. I like hiking in Rock Creek Park. I got kind of into birding during the pandemic, and I still do a bit of that. I like crosswords. I play bridge with Auntie Thea and her friends.” He shrugged. “Basically, if it’s something an eighty-year-old would enjoy, I probably do it too.”

“That’s cool.”

He made a face. “It’s the opposite of cool, actually, but I don’t mind it. I work a lot, so I like my free time to be low stress.”

“What kind of law do you practice?” I asked. “Are you out there in the courtroom every day? ‘ Your honor, I rest my case ,’ and all that?”

He laughed. “God, no. I’m a law librarian. As far away from the courtroom as you can get.”

“Wow. You must have had to go through a lot of school for that.”

“Undergrad and law school. Well, a joint program where I also got my masters in library science. Just to add to my nerddom,” he said with a rueful smile.

“If you’ve found something you like, who cares if it’s nerdy?”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been called a nerd in his life,” Quinn snorted. “Anyway, enough about me. What are you gonna do when you graduate?”

Heat flooded my face, but I kept an easy smile plastered onto it. “Oh, I don’t know. Some boring business job.”

“You must be doing lots of interviews right now. I remember how stressful it was, making sure you had something lined up after graduation.”

Sweat broke out on my brow, and my stomach twisted, the way it had all year, any time someone brought up applications and interviews and job prospects. Because I had been putting in applications, but I hadn’t gotten a single interview. Most places didn’t even write back to thank me for my interest.

“Yeah, more or less,” I said, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep my face relaxed.

“I’d be curious to learn more, if you want to talk about it,” Quinn said. “After all the first dates I’ve been on, I’m an expert at pretending to care about people’s jobs. And I actually like you—” He broke off suddenly, looking horrified. “I mean, I don’t—not like—you know what I mean.”

He was so flustered, it was cute. And distracting from my own worries.

“I just meant, I like you as a person, so I wouldn’t be pretending to care,” he finished, still looking embarrassed.

“How many first dates have you been on?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh God, I don’t even know. In the past month? At least six.”

“How many turned into second dates?”

“None. I mean, obviously.” He looked away.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to be obvious about it. That if he’d been on a second date with someone, he wouldn’t have had to hire me? Or that his self-esteem was so low that he thought it was self-evident why no one would want a second date with him.

I wanted to ask, but didn’t want to start another argument. Instead, I said, “Is gay dating the same as straight dating?”

Quinn looked at me in surprise. “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

“Good point.”

He tilted his head to the side. “But in my world, dating and hookups aren’t necessarily the same thing. I’m not sure it works that way for straight people.”

I snorted. “Yeah, no. That’s not so common for us straights. A lesson I’ve learned the hard way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eh, nothing in particular.” I tried to laugh it off. “I’ve already pissed you off once tonight. Don’t need to do it again.”

“What would you say that would piss me off?”

“Nothing.” My stomach felt squirrely again. How did he keep zeroing in on the topics I least wanted to talk about?

“No, seriously.” Quinn stopped dancing and took his hand off my shoulder. “What lesson did you learn?”

The look he gave me was wary, like I’d just announced I was personally responsible for melting the Arctic ice cap. Dubious, but leery all the same. A couple twirled by us and the woman stared at the two of us, frozen still.

“Okay, okay,” I said. We didn’t need to start a rumor that we were on the outs. “I’ll tell you. Just put your hand back. Look like you’re having a good time.”

He did put his hand back on my shoulder, but his eyes narrowed. “Are you a murderer after all? You kill women after hooking up with them or something?”

He added a short laugh to the question, to show he didn’t really mean it, but I could still see the worry in his eyes.

“Not a murderer, I promise. I just…” I trailed off. “I’ve just learned the hard way that unless you’re super clear with people that you’re not looking for a relationship, you can end up hurting someone’s feelings without meaning to.” I frowned. “Sometimes you are super clear that you’re not looking for anything serious, and you still hurt them. And rejection sucks, even when it’s not personal.”

Quinn looked astonished. “Don’t tell me someone’s actually rejected you. I won’t believe it.”

I looked at him with remorse, and his eyes widened.

“Oh. Of course. You meant it the other way around. You’re the person doing the rejecting.”

“It’s not rejecting,” I said. “I just like to keep things casual, you now? I don’t do relationships.”

“Oh my God, is my fake boyfriend a playboy?” Quinn’s voice was amused. “A love-them-and-leave-them ladykiller?”

“Ladykiller?” I blinked. “Just to be clear, I haven’t actually—”

“It’s just an expression,” he broke in. “It just means you’re like, a Don Juan type of guy.”

“Don Juan?” I was feeling dumber by the second.

“Oh God, you’re really not helping me feel less nerdy. All my references are for octogenarians.”

“I don’t think you’re a nerd. I think I’m just a dumbass.”

“At least you’re a hot one?” Quinn said.

He seemed like he was in a much better mood now, so that was nice. But I couldn’t help wishing he’d contradicted me just now. It would be nice for someone to tell me once that I was smart, instead of good-looking.

Still, at least he thought I was hot. Not that it mattered. I didn’t care whether other guys found me attractive, after all. But it was nice to have it confirmed anyway.

“So when’s your next first date?” I asked.

Quinn sighed. “Monday.”

“Wow, don’t sound so excited.”

“I’m not not excited. I’ve just kind of given up on getting my hopes up. I save the excitement for date two.”

“Which according to you, never happens.”

“Yeah, but not for lack of enthusiasm on my part,” Quinn protested. “It just never works out. Once a guy sees me in person…” He gestured to his cheek. “It always fizzles. But it’s an excuse for another iced oat milk almond mocha, anyway. I think I’m single-handedly keeping Bar Onze in business these days.”

I opened my mouth to ask whether his date would be at Bar Onze, but the music cut off suddenly, and everyone stopped dancing. A spotlight appeared in the center of the dance floor, and Quinn’s grandfather stepped into the light, microphone in hand.

“I hate to interrupt the dancing, folks,” he said. “But I just had to take a minute to thank you all for coming here tonight.”

“Free dinner,” said a voice on my left. I looked over to see that an older woman in a motorized scooter had pulled up beside me and Quinn.

She was wearing a shiny green suit with truly gigantic shoulder pads that had to be vintage Claude Montana. My eyes went wide. I’d never seen anything of his in real life, but there was no mistaking the tailoring.

“Have to be a fool to turn down a free dinner,” the woman continued. “Besides, I couldn’t pass up a chance to meet my grand nephew’s boyfriend, could I?”

She winked up at me.

“Auntie Thea!” Quinn said when he realized who was next to us. He sounded delighted, but he lowered his voice when people around us turned to look. His grandfather was in the middle of thanking the hotel and restaurant staff.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” he hissed, giving her a reproving look.

“I’ve been around,” Thea said airily. “And I don’t need a babysitter. I brought my roomba tonight.” She tapped the controls of her scooter and grinned. “People know better than to get in my way in this thing.”

“Should I be checking for vehicular homicide victims?” Quinn whispered.

“Not so far,” Thea said primly. She hadn’t lowered her voice at all. “But I haven’t run into Marie yet either. I make no promises. But enough about that. Introduce me to this handsome young man.” She nodded up at me.

“Oh, right.” Quinn shook himself. “Auntie Thea, this is Ryder. Ryder, this is my Auntie Thea. I’ve told you a little bit about her.”

“All good things,” I said to Thea.

“Well, I know that’s a lie,” she said. “Because if he were being honest, he’d have told you I’m a sharp-tongued harpy who you’d better watch out for.”

“I—he didn’t—I mean…”

“He’d be right of course.” She cackled, still not lowering her voice. “I am.”

I grinned. “Well, now I’m even more pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“...want to say one more thing, before I let you get back to your dancing,” Julius was saying when I turned my attention back to him. “Tonight is a celebration of a marriage—my marriage—to my beautiful wife. Delia, where are you, honey? Come on up here.”

There was a stir in the crowd across from us, and as the ripple of movement reached the edge of the circle, Quinn’s grandmother stepped out of the crowd, flushed and fluttery, waving a hand in front of her face.

“You know I don’t like being the center of attention,” she said to Julius—close enough for the mic to catch it. She looked like she wanted to melt back into the crowd. “There’s no need to make a fuss.”

“There absolutely is,” he said, taking her hand with a broad smile. She rolled her eyes, but let him pull her close.

For a moment, I was reminded of Quinn’s hand in my own, and I had a sudden image of taking his hand not to dance, but to pull him into the center of a crowd and tell everyone how lucky I was to have been married to him for fifty years.

I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine what that would be like, and I’d never know. I’d been mostly honest when I told Quinn that I’d learned about rejection the hard way. I knew for certain it was best for me not to get too close to anyone.

“Delia, you are the love of my life,” Julius said, facing his wife with eyes full of adoration. “It’s been fifty years, and not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for making me the luckiest man alive. You’re not just my life. Not just the mother of our four children. Not just the grandmother to nine more. You’re an angel. And you’re my best friend. We’ve been together fifty years. What do you say—want to do fifty more?”

Delia had covered her face with her hands as Julius was talking, but now she dropped them and her eyes sparkled with tears. She smiled up at him, then tugged at his lapel, pulling him down for a kiss. The crowd cheered.

The music had just started up again, a few bars of piano music floating through the air, when there was a loud tapping on the microphone, followed by a new voice saying, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.”

I looked toward the voice. Brandon, Julie’s boyfriend, had taken the microphone from Julius’s hand. Julius looked surprised, and he and Delia had taken a step back.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Brandon said again, smiling apologetically at Julius. “I’ll only take a few more minutes of everyone’s time, I promise.”

I shot a look at Quinn. He was standing stock still. His mouth was open in a small ‘ o ’ of surprise. His hands were clenched into fists. I wondered if he was even aware of it.

“I just wanted to say again how much I appreciate Julius and Delia inviting all of us to celebrate their love.” Brandon smiled at the couple he’d upstaged. “Their love is something all of us can aspire to. Their marriage is one I’m sure all of us want to have. And speaking of marriage…” He paused, scanning the crowd. “Julie, would you join me, please?”

There was a gasp from the crowd as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-covered box, then opened it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

“Show off,” Thea whispered, but for once, she was quiet enough that I didn’t think anyone else heard.

Quinn looked horror-struck. Not just at the social faux pas of making someone else’s anniversary all about you, but at something deeper.

The crowd parted around Julie as she walked forward, joining Brandon in the middle of the circle. Brandon dropped to one knee and looked up at her, proffering the ring with one hand, holding the microphone with the other.

“Julie, baby, these past months are the happiest I’ve ever been. You are an amazing woman, and I can’t imagine a day without you. I want to still feel that way in fifty years. Julia Denning, will you marry me?”

Julie clapped her hands to her cheeks, letting out a high-pitched squeal. She nodded frantically and extended her hand so Brandon could slide the giant diamond onto her finger. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said when he stood and pulled her into a hug.

I looked over at Quinn again, and my eyes went wide. He had disappeared.

I looked at Thea. “Did you see Quinn leave just now?”

Worry threaded through my stomach. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but Quinn had been acting weird all evening, and now he was gone.

“I was too busy wondering where on earth that boy got the idea that he should propose in the middle of someone else’s party.” Thea shook her head. “But if he’s gone, you’d better go find him, boyfriend .”

I was already moving, pushing back through the circle, then scanning to corners of the room. I didn’t see Quinn anyway and hadn’t really expected to. He’d been upset by what had just happened. I still didn’t know why, but I didn’t think he would have stuck around.

I checked the men’s room, the hotel lobby, even the other bar for Quinn, but couldn’t find him anywhere. And then, crossing the lobby for the second time, I decided to check outside. I pushed through the revolving doors and found Quinn standing five feet down the hotel sidewalk, staring out at the darkness, his hands jammed in the pockets of his blazer.

“There you are,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“What?” He blinked. I didn’t think he’d noticed me ‘til I’d spoken. “Oh. Nothing. It’s fine, just go back inside.”

“No.” I gave him a level look. “I won’t make you talk about it, but I’m also not going back inside like some asshole. If you’re upset, then I, as your boyfriend, am staying with you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend,” Quinn said bitterly.

“No. But I can still be your friend.”

I realized, as I said it, that I meant it. I liked Quinn. He was different from my soccer friends. Different from the kids in my classes. Different even from my housemates, despite sharing a common interest in men. Quinn reminded me of stepping into a used bookstore, with nooks and crannies and hidden corners and halls that went on forever. He had depths I’d barely scratched the surface of. I wanted to get lost inside him.

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

I didn’t bother contradicting him. It didn’t seem like it would do any good. But I decided right then that I wasn’t done with him. I wanted to be his friend.

We stood next to each other in the darkness, just staring out at the night and the occasional passing car, inhaling second-hand smoke from another guest’s cigarette twenty feet away. I wished Quinn would talk to me, but if the best I could offer was to stand next to him, that’s what I would do.

Behind us, the revolving doors spun. I turned, hoping it wasn’t another smoker.

It wasn’t. It was Brandon and Julie, laughing and talking and kissing, clearly a little drunk.

“Quinn!” Julie exclaimed when she saw him. “Did you see my ring? Isn’t it to die for?”

She tugged Brandon over to us and thrust her hand out. I took a quick look—it really was a giant rock—and then looked at Quinn. His eyes went from the ring to Julie’s face, and his features realigned into something I was sure was supposed to be a smile. It looked more like a grimace.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “Congratulations.”

Then his eyes darted to Brandon, and for a moment, they were filled with so much naked pain that it hurt to look at them.

“Congratulations to both of you,” Quinn said, and suddenly, I got it.

The pain in Quinn’s eyes, the strain in his voice, the way he was barely keeping it together. I was looking at heartbreak. And Quinn wasn’t interested in Julie. She was a woman, and his cousin besides. Which only left one person to have caused Quinn all this pain.

Julie didn’t seem to notice any of this. She just squealed again and said, “I had no idea what he was going to do. He’d joked about proposing so much that I thought it would never actually happen.”

“I’m just lucky she said yes,” Brandon said. His words were warm, but his smile was cold and distant. “I’m sure you’ll be lucky like me someday too.”

The way he said it, it was like he’d slammed a door in Quinn’s face. I couldn’t take it anymore. Julie’s happiness, Brandon’s coldness. It was too much for me, which had to mean it was unbearable for Quinn.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said brightly. I tugged Quinn’s hand to make him look at me. “I feel pretty lucky every day, just having you.”

With that, I leaned in and kissed him. Quinn froze as my lips hit his, but I slid an arm around his waist, and felt his body give a little against mine. His lips were softer than I’d expected, supple and full, and I was surprised again by how normal it all felt. My eyes were closed, and if I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have been able to tell I was kissing a guy.

Quinn sighed softly, and his lips parted. My tongue pushed into his mouth, gently at first, then more boldly as he kissed me back. It felt good, which was weird, but I didn’t have time to think about that now, because I was keenly aware of Julie and Brandon watching us from two feet away.

I placed my other hand on Quinn’s chest, feeling the contrast of his body heat against the cool night air. He hummed softly in the back of his throat. I nipped at his lower lip, only pulling back when I judged our audience to be thoroughly uncomfortable with how much affection we were showing.

Quinn looked slightly dazed when I broke the kiss, and to be honest, my chest felt a little funny. Like I couldn’t quite get a full breath of air. It was a good kiss. Better than I’d expected.

But maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Quinn was a friend, after all. Kind of, anyway. And I liked making people happy. Of course it felt good to make a friend feel better.

I turned to Julie and Brandon and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess we ought to get a room too.”

“That’s what we’re about to do,” Julie said with a laugh. “We decided we’d taken up too much attention inside. Time for us to go back and—oh, look, our car is here!” She pointed to a black sedan that had just turned into the hotel’s front drive. “See you guys later. Quinn, let’s get drinks soon, okay?”

With that, she headed for the car. Brandon followed after her. He didn’t say anything at all, but he did give Quinn an inscrutable look before sliding into the backseat. Quinn and I watched in silence as the car pulled through the driveway and back out onto the street.

“What was that?” Quinn said, once the car had disappeared down the block.

“I think that was an Audi? Though I didn’t look too closely.”

“Not the car,” Quinn said impatiently. He flicked his finger back and forth between the two of us. “What you just did.”

“Oh.” I laughed. “Well, that’s called a kiss. Sometimes, when two people like each other very much—”

“I know what a kiss is, asshole. I mean, what the hell possessed you to kiss me? I told you that you didn’t have to do any of that.”

“I’m sorry?” I meant it, but I was a little confused. “I know what you said. But clearly there’s something going on between you and Brandon—”

“There is nothing going on between me and Brandon.”

“Maybe not now, but there definitely was in the past. And you were obviously upset, and I thought, well—I thought maybe if I kissed you and made it look like I was head over heels for you, Brandon would think—”

“I don’t care what Brandon thinks of me,” Quinn said, his words so quick and angry that he might as well have scrawled ‘ LIE ’ in bright pink highlighter underneath them. “And I don’t need your pity.”

“It wasn’t pity. It really wasn’t. I was just trying to help.”

“Look, just…go home, okay? I want to be alone, and you don’t need to stick the party around if I’m not going to be here.”

“Are you sure?” I frowned. “I don’t mind hanging out a little longer, if you just want to go and—”

“Just leave me alone, Ryder, okay? I don’t need your help anymore. It was nice meeting you and all, but you’re off the hook now. Date over. I’ll see you around.”

He stalked off into the night, leaving me wondering, yet again, how the hell I’d managed to fuck up so thoroughly.

I was still wondering about it on Monday, three days later.

I knew I wasn’t wrong about Brandon and Quinn. I didn’t know the details, obviously, but something had clearly happened between them, and it had ended badly.

I’d seen that look in people’s eyes before. Usually girls who I was letting down easy. Which made me a little uncomfortable. Was I a Brandon, in a world full of Quinns? I hoped not.

But I was careful to be clear with people upfront about what I wanted. Ever since things had ended with Molly, I’d been careful to keep things nice and casual. And somehow, I didn’t think what had happened between Quinn and Brandon was casual.

I was still worried I’d offended Quinn, though. I’d thought he said we didn’t have to kiss because he was trying to save me from discomfort. But if he was trying to save himself instead, and I’d just barged in with my lips and messed that up, I felt awful. What if I’d violated him?

I wanted to reach out and ask if we could meet up again. But that was strictly against policy. No contact after an appointment unless the client initiated it. Besides, if I really had invaded Quinn’s space, I was probably the last person he wanted to see.

But I still itched to apologize.

“Stop pacing,” said Raf from the couch. “You’re ruining the game.”

Raf was one of my housemates, and he was ridiculously invested in the Wizards. He was watching a game he’d recorded last week.

“I’m nowhere near the TV,” I said.

“Yeah, but your nervous energy is making me nervous, and I’m worried enough about the game already.”

I looked at the screen. The Wizards were down twenty points and the third quarter was almost over. “You already know how it ends,” I told him. “How can you possibly be in suspense?”

“Yo, Ryder, wanna come to the gym with me?” asked Amir, my other housemate, bounding down the stairs in basketball shorts and a cut-off tank top. It was frigid outside today, but he’d probably leave the house in nothing more than that.

“Oh my God, please,” Raf said. “Get him out of here and give him some stimulation so he’ll chill the fuck out.”

“Oh, I can give him stimulation,” Amir said with a lecherous smile. “I can give him all kinds of stimulation.”

He licked his lips suggestively, and I laughed. Amir was bi and he delighted in flirting with everyone. He’d flirt with the Dalai Lama, just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. Just doing his part for problematic bisexual representation, he liked to say.

I took Amir’s flirting about as seriously as I took the Wizards’ chances of winning this game.

“Much as I’d love to help you, I have to decline,” I said. “It was leg day this morning, and I don’t think I’ve got anything in the tank after that workout.”

“Jesus, you’ve already been to the gym and you’re still this antsy?” Raf complained. “What the fuck is up, dude? You’ve been on edge all weekend.”

I wanted to protest that I had not been on edge, but that would just make me sound childish, and besides, Raf was probably right. I couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn and our kiss.

“If you’re not going to hook up or spot me at the gym,” Amir said, heading for the front door, “I guess you’ll just have to drink yourself into insensibility. It’s the only option.”

“I cosign that,” Raf said. “As long as you don’t come home and puke on the kitchen floor again.”

“That happened one time ,” I said irritably, “a year ago, and I—”

I stopped mid-sentence, an idea occurring to me. Maybe I should go get a drink. Maybe I should go down to Logan Circle and just happen to get thirsty and just happen to stop into Bar Onze, and just happen to see if Quinn was there.

That was where he’d said his date would be, right? He hadn’t mentioned the time, but that was alright. It was almost four o’clock. I could bring my laptop, maybe even get some schoolwork done if I had to hang around for a while. There was nothing criminal about that, right?

“Earth to Ryder.” Amir’s voice broke through my train of thought. “You alive in there, or did some alien just body-snatch you?”

“You are a genius,” I told him, heading for the kitchen, where my laptop was charging on the counter.

I wasn’t breaking any rules if Quinn and I just happened to be in the same place, after all. It would be pure chance. And maybe, if I saw him, I’d be able to apologize again for that kiss. And maybe then I could stop thinking about it, and everything could go back to normal.

I just had to see him one more time, and it would all work out.