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He dropped his arm, put a careful space between them and went to the room in silence.
Things did not improve in the room. Joq took the glass of champagne the waiting attendant poured them, and went straight out onto the deck, the ocean lapping all around them, the private beach stretching behind them a short walk away via the little stretch of a quaint wooden jetty, lush rainforest closing them in from the world.
It should’ve been paradise, but looking at Joq standing out there, his whole demeanour closed off and screaming at Chris to stay back, well, Chris thought this was what hell must’ve felt like. Maybe he deserved it after what he did to all those guys.
Still, he hadn’t done anything now, he was pretty sure.
Fuck it.
He went out. Joq downed his champagne in one go.
Chris was about to ask what happened but what came out was, “I’ll get you another one.”
He took the glass and dutifully did so. As he handed it back, Joq met his eyes, his expression blank except for that haunted look Chris had seen once before.
“I need to tell you something,” Joq said.
“Okay,” Chris replied, his heart pounding.
“Only, I’m afraid when I do, you’ll want me gone. So, I can change my flight if you give me the booking number; it’s okay if they downgrade it,” Joq swigged on the champagne.
Chris wished he’d insisted on the jet rather than conceding to first class—Joq felt the jet was too much just yet; but if Joq needed to go home, the jet would be better. He could arrange one. Then he caught up to the rest of what Joq was implying—that Chris would want him gone? Why?
“Of course, I can fly economy,” Joq finished.
“Did you fuck someone else?” Chris blurted.
Joq flinched, but his gaze was incredulous. “No, why do you always think that?”
Chris shrugged. His dad fucked around on his mum constantly, it was his very painful go to. He wasn’t saying that. Besides, it hadn’t been until he got himself a boyfriend. Now, between his fears over his bloody problem and low-key worrying he was getting cheated on, he was a bit of a wreck. Joq’s calm demeanour normally soothed him, but right now, Joq wasn’t calm, he was so far away Chris wondered if he’d ever reach him.
“It’s my biggest fear,” he said. “You’ll meet someone else, someone you want straight away.”
“I wish I hadn’t met you,” Joq replied, “never mind meet someone else.”
Chris raised both eyebrows. How in the fuck was he supposed to take that?
“That come out wrong,” Joq shook his head. “I mean,” he blew out a breath and looked at the ocean, “you’ll get what I mean. Back there? In the lobby? That was my ex.”
Chris frowned. “The sporty looking guy?”
“Yeah, George, George Creed, he’s an AFL player, was,” Joq went on. “And that was his husband with him.”
“Who?” Chris didn’t see another guy but he was beginning to remember why he recognised the guy at the counter; he knew who Joq was talking about—they’d been all over the news a year ago when they came out and got married.
“You dated that guy?” Chris asked.
Joq scoffed. “I fucking lived with him for over ten years.”
“But,” Chris was confused, “you must’ve been broken up for a while. When we met, you were on that app. You were looking for a hook-up.”
Joq looked at him then, squinted. “I can’t believe you remember this apparent day so well.”
“Of course I remember, I went back looking for you, even looked for you on the app but you must’ve blocked me,” Chris was still embarrassed by the memory.
“If I met you and blocked you it was because I liked you,” Joq replied evenly.
“What?”
