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Surely Joq’s reason wasn’t Chris-related, was it?
It didn’t seem to be.
Closet?
Chris shuddered, he couldn’t stand those guys. But that didn’t seem right either.
Bad break-up was most likely, but even that was debatable given he was sleeping around with random guys a year ago.
He kicked his chair out, put his hands over his stomach and tapped his fingers as he kicked his legs up on the desk.
The intercom blared to life. “Brendan line one. Todd line two. Your mother line three.”
“Put Todd through,” he replied. His broker was the most pressing. His mum was probably just calling to mock him again for landing on the GQ most eligible bachelor list at number three. And Brendan was being Brendan.
Maybe he could ask Joq, he thought as he confirmed his short and hung up.
But then what if Joq asked him?
He winced.
Maybe he should just keep getting laid and stop thinking.
That sounded like the safest plan.
But then what had Joq said at the coffee shop? “It’s not like I’ve got a boyfriend.”
And he’d said it like he’d slept with other guys while having a boyfriend. Chris might be a fuck-them-and-leave-them type, but he wasn’t down for cheating. Nor did he like the idea of the person he was sleeping with banging someone else at the same time.
In fact, all of this was making him feel like shit. If he didn’t like the sex with Joq so much, he’d call the whole thing off.
As it was, he thought he might need to ask at least a few questions.
Chris was already seated in a secluded booth at the back of the restaurant under dim lighting when the maître d’ led Joq to their table. Joq looked good—navy suit with a white shirt, no tie, the first buttons popped, tan dress shoes—and his blonde hair skirted the top of his eyebrows as he pushed it back with long fingers, took a seat and thanked the maître d’ at the same time as he smiled over at Chris in greeting; it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You look good,” Chris said.
Joq’s smile turned sardonic. “You know what I look like.”
Chris grinned. “I think the customary response is to tell me I look good too.”
Joq opened his menu. “You strike me as the kind of guy who knows he looks good.”
“Ah, so you think I’m good-looking,” Chris replied.
“What made you think I didn’t?” Joq flicked his eyes up.
Chris shrugged. “You never said.”
“I think I said it with my dick,” Joq replied and before Chris could respond around his choked laughter, a waiter appeared to take their drinks order.
Chris ordered a bottle of red for the table, to which Joq agreed with a less than effusive, “Sure, whatever you like,” and Chris asked for more time with the menu.
“You do like red wine, right?” Chris asked.
“Of course,” Joq closed his menu and sat back. “Just, no need to get me drunk, I’m a sure thing. That’s kind of the point.”
Chris smiled nervously, shook his head and mirrored Joq’s position in an effort to make himself relax. He slid his foot forward so it nudged up against Joq’s and smiled, teasing. Joq knocked his foot back, left it there.
