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Jay is nowhere to be found when Gus and I arrive at the busy hotel bar, but eventually he texts to let me know he got tired of waiting and moved on to a bar a couple blocks over.
While I work on tracking down Jay, Gus rests his hand on the small of my back, shamelessly reading my texts over my shoulder. I don’t stop him. Stopping him would force him to move away from me, and I like having him planted at my side. Possessive. Territorial. I imagine we make a gorgeous pair to anyone seeing us. We’re dressed to the nines and both unaffected by our luxurious surroundings like we’ve seen and done it all before.
We probably look like a real couple.
The temptation to indulge in the fantasy becomes overwhelming when he takes up a gentle touch. His fingertips dance over my bare back, and I imagine him caressing me tenderly in a hundred different places. Parties. Galas. Weddings. Any one of my father’s events. What would it be like to bring Gus? He’s so affectionate, always touching me when he has a chance. I’m sure he’d be by my side all night, unwilling to separate for even a minute. I’d love that.
Stop it.
“We can meet Jay there,” I suggest and motion for Gus to follow me to the hotel’s front desk. “I can get a cab.”
“We can walk,” he interjects, nodding his head at the main entrance.
Surprised, I pull back my head. Does Gus…does he even walk places?
“We don’t have to if it would hurt your feet,” he goes on, glancing at my heels. “But it’s a nice night and the bar is only five minutes away.”
“I love that idea,” I admit.
A small grin plays across his lips and he positions my hand on his bicep so he can escort me. “I knew you would. You love being outside.”
He remembered. And there it goes again, my stomach lighting up with glitter and fluttering wings and other new, shimmery stuff that confuses and excites me all at once.
The short walk from the hotel to the bar where we’re meeting Jay gives us a peek into a Saturday night in Vienna. It’s nearly springtime, so tourism is starting to ramp up. The streets are crowded with locals and visitors alike braving the brisk evening for a night on the town.
After a few minutes, we near the Staatsoper, where I took the picture I sent to Gus. As we pass, he pulls my hand back. “Wait. We need a better picture in front of it.”
“Of us?”
“If you want, but really, I was thinking of you.”
Before I can clarify if Gus seriously wants to take a picture of me, he puts both hands on my shoulders to position me. “Stay there,” he instructs before backing up on the sidewalk and glaring at a group of pedestrians who nearly pass in front of the shot. “Okay, look off to the side…”
He holds up his phone and bends his knees, looking for the right angle. “Yeah, perfect. Just move your hair a bit…yeah. Amazing.”
After a minute, he moves to the side, keeping his eyes on his phone screen. “Got it,” he declares. He holds out his phone. The image on screen looks borderline professional—good enough for me to post and garner a shit ton of likes if I wanted.
“Wow, August.” I scroll through the pictures he took. There are easily fifteen to twenty great ones.
“Yep, you look perfect,” he murmurs, giving me the compliment instead of taking it for himself.
Surprised, I look up and find him staring at the screen, his face beaming like a proud boyfriend or something.
Or something.
I’m so screwed.
***
Jay’s eyes dance between Gus and me in a perturbed tango. Slowly, a frown crosses his face until his brow is so tight, it leaves a mark when he relaxes his features. He blinks several times, forcefully, like his contact lenses are dry. “Where did he come from?” he finally asks.
“London,” Gus answers simply before he picks up the cocktail menu waiting on the table, not indulging Jay’s obvious disgust. “These cocktails are thirty euros,” he mutters. “Basically forty dollars.”
“Too steep for you?” Jay responds, scoffing. He takes a sip of the forty dollar cocktail he ordered before we arrived.
“So it sounds like you’re paying.” Gus flicks the menu shut, throwing the gauntlet.
Jay freezes and stares at Gus over the table, pinning him with a look of annoyance. When Gus doesn’t immediately offer an apology (because he would never), Jay rolls his eyes.
