In the Distance (4 page)

“Hey, no judging my meat choice, Mr. Chicken-and-Waffles.” He made a face.

We made small talk for a few minutes while we waited for our food to arrive. I usually sucked at this part—talking about nothing, and trying but failing to make it seem effortless—but with Trevor it wasn’t as hard to keep up the flow of conversation. Suddenly emboldened by the ease of conversation, I took a sip of my coffee, pondering whether I should ask the question I’d wondered about since I’d first seen Trevor, Jamie and Ethan together. I decided to bite the bullet. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot. Unless it’s something serious. No serious questions during—” He checked his watch, saying, “brinner.”

“Funny. But seriously, why do you hate Ethan so much?”

Chapter Six

Trevor

For a second I thought I’d misheard Tyler. “Why do I hate Ethan so much?” I repeated. For a kid that the aforementioned asshat and Jamie treated like he was made of glass, Tyler didn’t pull punches. I liked that.

I flashed a smile at Roberta when she set our food in front of us. Stalling for time, I cut off a piece of pancake and ate it, chewing slowly as I wondered how to answer. After I took a sip of my bitter coffee, I met Tyler’s curious gaze.

“I don’t hate Ethan.” It was the truth. As much as I liked to rile the man up, I respected how he and Jamie complemented each other. Well, at least I was trying to.

“But?”

“But nothing. Jamie and I have too much history for me not to be happy for him. And despite the fact that Ethan is a hotheaded blowhard, he makes Jamie happy.”

Tyler paused and gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, then cut off another piece of his fried chicken. He layered it on top of a piece of waffle, drizzled hot sauce on top, then dipped it into the puddle of syrup on his plate as I watched, horrified but unable to look away. “How can you eat that?”

A shy smiled curled his lips as he paused, fork raised. “Salty, sweet, savory, spicy. It’s weird but it tastes awesome. You should try it at least once.”

He held out his fork, a challenging look on his face. Why did I feel like this was some kind of test? And where did this ballsy attitude come from? I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but I didn’t want to ruin it. I made a face. “If I eat that, you have to promise you won’t clam up on me for the rest of the night.”

Tyler laughed and shook his head. “I promise nothing, but you should still try it. For a guy with foodie friends and clients like Jamie, I’d think you’d be more adventurous.”

Yep. Definitely a dare. I set my fork down and reached for his as he watched me, wide-eyed. Instead of taking the fork, I closed my fingers around his wrist, my thumb skimming over the sensitive skin. I held his gaze as I guided the fork to my lips and took the offered bite. His dark eyes watched me as his lips parted. I felt his pulse speed up underneath my fingers. The knowledge I wasn’t the only one who felt the attraction made me wonder what Tyler would do if I kissed him. Jamie’s earlier words echoed as I swallowed hard. “
Tyler’s a good kid.
” Jamie was my best friend, but it was really fucking hard to be rational with Tyler sitting right next to me feeding me his food.

Tyler cleared his throat and looked back down at his plate. “Good?”

I released his arm and sat back in my seat as I pondered how to answer. Was this good? Hell, it was more than good, and that was the problem. Tyler continued to eat, shooting me sidelong looks.

“It’s not bad. I understand what you’re saying about the blend of flavors, but I’ll stick to my pancakes and bacon.” I popped a small piece in my mouth and chewed, trying hard to get my mind back on what I should be doing rather than what I wanted to do.

“Okay. Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You don’t hate Ethan, but you enjoy pissing him off,” Tyler prodded. For someone so quiet, he was stubborn.

“I enjoy it very much. He’s just so easy to rile.” I shrugged, thankful we were back on the topic of Ethan Martin. Nothing killed a mood like talking about Ethan. “Maybe that makes me an asshole, but it’s true.”

Tyler gave me an incredulous look. “You do it for fun?”

I chuckled and sat back in my chair. “I’m a simple man, Tyler. I enjoy my job, I like fancy cars, I have a best friend who moved two thousand miles away and whose husband has a hair-trigger temper, and I prefer blueberry pancakes over chicken and waffles. Let’s just say I enjoy the drama it interjects into my otherwise drama-free life.”

“That makes sense, in a messed-up way.” Tyler finished off the last bite of his food and wiped his face with his napkin. His plate was empty and when he sighed tiredly and ran his hand over his face, I was glad I at least had gotten him to eat a full meal.

As annoying as Jamie and Ethan could be at their paternal best, they were right. Tyler was slender, and from what I’d seen of him earlier when he’d been changing his shirt, he was bordering on too skinny. Judging by the dark rings under his eyes, he didn’t sleep nearly enough either. Hell, when I was twenty I’d been banging my way through the Upper East Side’s selection of available guys after Jamie and I had returned from Paris. This kid sitting next to me had more stress than I’d ever had in my life. If getting a full meal into him helped, I could live with that.

I took another bite of my pancakes, taking my sweet time, content to keep him talking. “Why did you go into cooking? And why are you going to school for it if you’re not that into it?”

His eyes widened as I ate. “What do you mean?”

“You’re dead on your feet and when I asked you about it earlier, you weren’t that pumped about it. So if it’s not school, there has to be something that keeps you going through rotations at the Institute and work. Hobbies, sports, manga comics?”

I watched as the outgoing and ballsy Tyler from just a minute ago began to clam up. “I love cooking. And really, I’ve only got work and school. There’s not time for much else. Trust me, I’m not that interesting.”

“Yeah. Not buying it. And you said if I tried your waffling chicken monstrosity you wouldn’t clam up on me.”

His eyes met mine again, a hint of his earlier boldness resurfacing. “I distinctly remember not agreeing to promise that.”

I wasn’t sure if it was his smile or that I enjoyed seeing this more self-assured side of him, but I found myself searching for a reason to stall for more time. So when Roberta topped off my coffee, I gave her my best smile. “Can we get some dessert, please? Maybe some pie. Two slices. Any kind will do.”

“Sure thing, gorgeous.” She winked at Tyler, who turned beet-red.

Tyler looked back down at the counter, his voice soft. “You don’t have to buy me dessert.”

I raised my eyebrow. “I don’t have to do anything. Maybe I want some pie. And it’s rude to eat in front of other people who don’t have sense enough to order dessert for themselves.”

He finally looked back up and met my eyes. “I work at a restaurant. People eat in front of me all the time. You’ll have to do better than that.”

I pretended to ponder another reason, letting my eyes rake over his profile again while I stalled. I’d only noticed the dark circles under his eyes before. Now that I actually took a minute to look at him, I noticed his brown eyes were actually a cross between light brown and hazel, flecked with green and gold.

I shook my head slightly to get my mind back where it needed to be while we waited for our dessert. “Okay. How about this one? Haven’t you heard the expression, never trust a skinny cook?”

He groaned. “Ethan tells me that all the time. But it’s not exactly like he and Jamie are packing on the poundage.”

“Well, like I said before, Ethan isn’t a total idiot. But each of them outweighs you by at least twenty pounds, so there you go.”

I smirked as his mouth opened, probably to argue with me, when Roberta returned with two pieces of peach pie, warmed and à la mode. As I took a bite, my eyes closed and I moaned. Yeah, I’d happily work out twice as hard once I got back to New York in order to have this.

When I opened my eyes again, Tyler’s attention was focused on my mouth. “I’m guessing you really like pie.”

I dove in for another bite. “You could say that.”

He jabbed his spoon into the pie and took a bite, neither of us saying anything for a few minutes while we ate.

When we were halfway through our pie, I asked, “So, Mr. I’m-Not-That-Interesting, you have to have some hobbies that don’t involve either work or school. Anything you do to relax or have fun? Throw me a bone here.”

He hesitated. “I help out at the food bank. Oh, and a shelter. It’s not really a hobby, though. Both helped me out when I needed it, so I try to help them out now that I’m able to.”

I stared at him. “You spend your only free time helping at a food bank and a shelter?”

Where the hell had this kid come from? Jamie had done some charity gigs during his last media circuit, but I was more than a little embarrassed to admit I had never seen a food bank in person and had no clue if there was a food bank in Midtown. I’d never spent time doing something that wasn’t an attempt to charm someone into my bed, get what I wanted in business or manipulate my rich parents into buying me the newest toy on my list. Hell, I’d even failed the friend test when I’d knowingly failed to pass messages back and forth between Ethan and Jamie in Paris. If you looked up selfish asshole in the dictionary, you’d find my picture. Not my finest moment.

He put down his fork, that shy smile I was becoming more and more familiar with spreading across his face. “Well, yeah.”

I leaned back in my chair and listened as Tyler began to tell me all about it. When he spoke about how he helped with their kids program, his eyes lit up. Christ, he was handsome when he smiled like that. He leaned forward as he told me a story about one of the kids, and I was able to see the freckles that dotted across the bridge of his nose. He was gangly, but he had nice shoulders. The shallow part of me wondered what his experience with sex was. I was pretty confident that any experience he’d had with it had been limited to fooling around with other guys his age.

I jerked myself out of my perverted thoughts over Tyler’s sex life when I noticed he’d stopped talking. God, I was perving on a twenty-year-old virgin. This was a new low. I closed that train of thought and tucked it back, way back, in the recesses of my mind. We were here to hang out, nothing more. When I looked down, I noticed the pie had disappeared from his plate, but instead of the smile I’d seen when he first started talking about the food bank, Tyler’s expression was guarded and held a hint of embarrassment.

“Sorry about the rambling. I must be more tired than I thought I was.”

“Why are you sorry? I think it’s awesome you still want to volunteer there, especially with your insane schedule.”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking everywhere except at me. “Maybe. Everyone has something, right? But I really should be heading home so I can fit in some studying before I crash.”

Great. Now I’d made him feel self-conscious about it.
Way to go
,
Pratt.
Why don’t you kick his puppy and make fun of his clothes now?
It had been ages since I’d just sat in a dive like this and enjoyed a conversation with someone with no other alternate agenda. Without the stress of closing a deal. Without the worry of making the right impression. And without the posturing and drama that inevitably occurred when the ultimate goal was to get someone on their back as soon as humanly possible. From the tight set of Tyler’s shoulders, he had just as much inexperience with this as I did. It made me wonder about his friends and classmates. Did he go out after work? Did he have a group of friends his age from school? Jamie’s warning about staying away from him still echoed in my mind, but hey, we were just two guys hanging out to get to know each other better. Nothing more.

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and then fumbled in his back pocket. When I saw his wallet hit the counter, I didn’t even wait for him to open it up before I shook my head and sighed. I caught Roberta’s eye and motioned for the check, pulling out a few twenties before she made her way over to us.

Without looking at the check, I folded the money in her hand and squeezed it. “Best meal I’ve had in ages.”

Roberta smiled. “Best customers I’ve had in ages. You boys have a good night and come back to see me again soon.”

Tyler looked like he was about to protest, but I cut him off as I slid off my stool. “Don’t even go there. I remember what it was like to be young and worried about money.”

“Sure you do.”

I threw him a dirty look over my shoulder as we walked out of the diner. “Okay. So I might have had my dad’s Platinum AmEx card to help me out, but I struggled just like the rest of my classmates.”

Tyler’s low, deep laugh hit me in all the right places. “Poor baby. I’m sure it was hard to choose between the double shot extra whip latte and the regular Joe Blow latte.”

God, it was good to hear him laugh. “Hey now. Leave my double shot latte out of this,” I shot back as I unlocked the doors to the Mercedes coupe I’d rented.

His laughter slowly faded as I pulled out of the parking lot. I had only been to Ethan’s old place a few times when Jamie had first moved back to Seattle and before they had bought a new condo together. But Tyler made sure to keep me on the right track with directions, his voice getting softer and softer the closer we got to the apartment.

I pulled up to the curb, letting the car idle instead of parking and walking him to his door. As much as I found myself not wanting the night to end, it wouldn’t have been smart to push whatever this was. Anyone else? We’d already be upstairs with Tyler’s pants around his ankles and my mouth on him. But he wasn’t just anyone else.

Tyler, who had been staring out his window, slowly turned toward me. The soft lights of the dash barely illuminated his face. God, he looked young, innocent and worth every ounce of protectiveness he brought out in the people who cared about him.

“Thanks for the ride. And dinner. It was nice.”

He turned again and reached for the door handle.

“Hey, Tyler. Wait up.”

I fished my wallet back out of my pocket and pulled out one of my business cards. “If you ever need anything—to talk about classes, to vent about how frustrating it is to work for someone as hotheaded as your boss Ethan—call me. Both my cell and home number are on there. I know you don’t know me that well and I’ll be on the opposite side of the country, but I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass when I said I remembered what it was like to be in school and overwhelmed. I might be every inch of the spoiled asshole Ethan paints me to be, but I’m an asshole who’s a really good listener.”

At first I thought he’d thrust the card back at me, telling me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested in anything. Instead he slid it in his back pocket and murmured, “Thanks.”