Page 30 of Love Language

Greg supposed most people looked different outside the club. But he found that he missed that hint of eyeshadow.

Marco was confident in a different way outside the club. Friendly and casual, working almost aggressively to make Greg feel comfortable.

Marco just swept him up in a rush of conversation, launching into a funny story about his trouble with traffic, and then a customer he’d been working with.

It sounded like he was doing a lot of work setting up his new company, and enjoying the entrepreneurial adventure of it. If he also had talent, which it sounded like he did, he should be on a good path.

Greg felt vicariously excited for him.

Judging by the way Marco was steering the conversation, he’d been forgiven for running out on him that morning and ghosting him in the days that followed. It was like it had never happened, and Greg was pathetically relieved that he didn’t have to talk about it.

Before their appetizers had even arrived, Greg found himself relaxing. Actually having fun. He liked Marco. He was witty and sarcastic, but also insightful and knowledgeable. For someone who worked from home, he certainly kept involved with the world.

He asked Greg about his work and he really listened. Greg whined for a while about one of the managers from the cross-departmental team he was sometimes on. And then he whined about Brett who kept bothering him at work. And then he realized he was whining a lot and said so, and Marco just laughed and placed his small, warm hand on his arm.

Marco also complained about his clients, but when he did, he was funny. The things people seemed to want in their logos and ads could be outlandish.

There was enough insider language that Greg didn’t quite understand everything, but he liked the way that Marco pulled him in. Like, was breaking the “rule of thirds” really a sin? And was Comic Sans actually the laughingstock of the font world? He didn’t know, but it didn’t really seem to matter.

By the end of the evening, Greg would have thought they’d never been more than friends. Good friends, even.

Except for the way that Marco had winked at him when he ordered two appetizers because Greg couldn’t choose.

Except for the way that Marco had held a fork to Greg’s lips, demanding rather than suggesting that he taste a bite from Marco’s plate.

Except for the way that Marco’s eyes flashed when Greg licked his lips after his first bite of dessert.

Marco was muting the tension between them, but it was still there, smoldering beneath the surface.

And now they were standing awkwardly outside the restaurant. Or at least Greg was feeling awkward.

Marco was teasing him about refusing to see movies based on books, a preference which he seemed to find ridiculous.

Greg enjoyed the teasing. It was gentle. Friendly.

Not at all like the type of teasing he used to do with Richard.

He both wished that Marco was more flirtatious and appreciated that he wasn’t.

He was certain, though, that he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. The idea of going back to his sterile, empty house right now made him feel cold inside.

Thanks for joining me tonight, Marco finally closed, with that delighted, easy smile on his face. I had a great time.

Stay, Greg wanted to say. Don’t leave me. But instead, he just echoed the sentiment. Me, too.

Maybe we could meet up again?

When? He only realized after he signed it how pathetically eager he must look. Well, it was too late now.

Next week?

God, yes. I literally have no other plans, he replied. Marco already knew how pathetic he was, after all. I can be ready whenever you want me.

Marco’s eyes shone, the dangerous air of dominance seeping through. Be careful when you tell me things like that.

Greg drew in a sharp breath, confused again about whether he was feeling scared and nauseous, or aroused and excited. It was too soon. And he hated waiting. And…

Actually, no, he wasn’t confused. He was just feeling the whole pile of heavy emotions at once.