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“We might as well come home together, after training,” George said defensively.
“Makes sense,” Joq nodded.
George let out a long breath. “Yeah.”
Then he went upstairs and Joq ignored the flutter of nerves in his stomach.
9
It was closer to seven thirty when Joq heard the front door open, the sound of unfamiliar laughter beside George’s deep voice.
Joq took a deep breath, exhaled and turned as he felt them come into the open plan kitchen-dining-living area.
“Hey, babe,” Joq said. It sounded awkward. He didn’t understand why he said it.
Finn was smiling at him but it faltered. George looked affronted and surprised.
“Hey,” George said. “You remember Finn.”
Joq screwed his face up. “Uh, yeah,” he rolled his eyes and went forward to shake Finn’s hand.
Finn smiled, returned the handshake politely as George said, “And you remember Joq, from surveillance.”
Joq felt that like a slap. “Bit more than that,” he grinned. It felt strained.
An odd silence followed. Joq waited for George to fill it. He didn’t. Finn took his hand back and looked around. Joq saw the blush radiating up from his clavicles, moving up his throat and heating his face under the tan.
“This is nice,” he said.
“Like you haven’t got nicer in Byron,” George tapped him on the ass as he went for the fridge. “You want a beer? Joq gets the low cal stuff,” George smiled at Joq.
Right, Joq knew this George. This was George putting on a good publicity display and shoving all other feelings down. He could do it in the face of the most outrageous media questions, he could do it at strained family dinners with his Catholic family, and apparently, he could do it when his boyfriend accidentally outs him when he thought that’s what they were supposed to be doing here.
Joq smiled back. George maintained the media smile before turning to Finn’s laughter.
He took the beer George handed him and clinked their bottles together. “True, Byron’s pretty nice, eh? But this is still pretty sweet.”
Joq watched them as they stood together at the open door, admiring the pool, the garden, the cabana. They were both freshly showered, damp hair curling at their collars, and while George had changed back into his team training gear, Finn was dressed in a nice polo shirt and tailored shorts, like he’d brought the clothes with him especially for the dinner.
“I’ve never been to Byron,” George said.
Finn bumped his shoulder. “You’ll have to come visit. It’s actually the best, I’m just tryin’ to be nice.”
George laughed and bumped him back. Joq stood there, eyes fixed on their backs as they got into a playful hip checking match, traded joking insults, and laughed together.
“BBQ,” Joq said, too loudly.
George and Finn startled and looked back at him.
“I’ve got to cook the BBQ,” Joq said.
“Hey, no, I can do that,” George said and came into the kitchen. “Finn can help, try and get some meat in his hippy ass.”
Joq’s eyebrows went up. George grinned at him as he took the meat tray, and Joq felt like he was smiling back, while Finn laughed. Right, just the usual homophobic jibes these guys used as the glue to build a team dynamic.
The salads were already made, so Joq busied himself with taking them out, getting the plates and utensils, and every time he went out he listened and stole glances at the pair at the BBQ. He didn’t think he’d seen George smile this much, laugh this much, in years. It was clear he had an easy rapport with the kid, which should’ve made Joq pleased for him—having his super star rookie in hand would make his life much easier. If only that’s all this was. And Joq couldn’t figure out if it wasn’t, but something in the little shoves, the quiet smiles, the gazes held a moment too long made every nerve stand to attention on Joq’s body.
By the time they brought the cooked BBQ over, Joq had polished off half the bottle of wine. He expected George to give him shit for it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He was giving Finn a friendly bump in the direction of the seat to his left at the head of the table, and then sitting and beaming at Joq to his right.
