Adrian
The night before
I walk up the street towards the restaurant I am meeting Nicholas in. How did I let him ambush me like this? My security is trailing behind me and I am painfully aware of their presence. I’m proud to be gay but when I have people watching me on a date, or a brush off in this case, I feel uncomfortable. I guess everyone who has security trailing them everywhere feels like this. Joshua hates it probably more than me. Apparently at his dinner date with Tash the other night she cried at the table and he was mortified that they had security witnessing the whole nightmare. I hope they catch this maniac soon. We could all do with some much needed privacy. I blow out a breath in a nervous gesture. Nicholas keeps telling me there was something there between us on the last date and he wasn’t wrong … there was too much there. Too much sexual energy, too much intelligence and humour, too much yearning for intimacy and I know it can only end badly. He lives in France for heaven’s sake. I’m nipping it in the bud before it turns sour, as relationships always do for me. What I don’t like though is the way he has called me out on it. He obviously doesn’t get the brush off very often. Today when he rang me he was furious and told me if I don’t go out to dinner with him alone tonight he will come into the office and ambush me in front of whoever is there and he doesn’t give a fuck who hears what he has to say, those exact words.
I get out my phone to check the number of the street the restaurant is on. We are going to O’Shea’s, an oyster bar and restaurant. It’s just up here. I stop out the front and peer in through the window and turn to my two security guards who are four or five metres behind me. After the graffiti in our office back home a month ago, with the words Joshua Stanton and Adrian Murphy Next written in blood on our office wall, Ben has been security crazy. Joshua and I are being guarded to a ridiculous degree. The police don’t know whose blood the writing was in, but it’s messed with all of our heads. If you are crazy enough to use your own blood to graffiti someone’s office it’s a nightmare. If it wasn’t his blood … that’s worse.
“Just wait out here please. I will be fine,” I ask the bodyguards.
Their eyes flick to each other and they nod. “Ok, no worries.”
I open the large heavy doors and enter the restaurant tentatively as I look around. Nicholas stands up next to a table at the rear of the restaurant and waves. I smile and make my way over to him.
God, what am I doing here? I nervously walk over. He is dressed in a grey suit, white shirt and grey tie, and his tall stature dominates the space around him. His longish dark hair , hangs just above his collar and has a curl to it and he is wearing a long five o’clock shadow. His piercing dark eyes penetrate mine. He brings the term Greek God into a new stratosphere. Fuck!
He smiles warmly and holds out his hand to shake mine. I smile, take it and am immediately jolted by a strong charge of sexual energy. Oh, he’d be good alright. I feel myself harden, and my
eyes drop immediately to try and hide my arousal. He smirks and keeping hold of my hand, he lifts it up and tenderly kisses the back of it.
“Hello,” he smiles with my hand still in his.
“Hello,” I smile as I nervously pull my hand from his grip. The intensity of this guy is off the hook.
He holds out his hand to the table. “Take a seat,” he smiles.
I sit at the table for two towards the back of the restaurant. It is adorned with six flickering candles at all different heights. The crowd is eclectic and the music is earthy. The restaurant is quite dark and the candles on all of the tables add to the ambience.
“Would you like to order some drinks?” the waitress asks.
My eyes flick to Nicholas whose eyes are firmly on me. He smiles affectionately and I blow out a breath and read the drink menu. Right.
“I’ll have a Martini please.” I look at Nicholas.
‘I’ll have the same.” He smiles at the waitress and then back at me.
She leaves us alone. I don’t think I have ever been so nervous-why does he make me feel like this?
“I don’t like being ambushed into dates with people,” I say dryly as I pretend to read the menu.
He nods. “I don’t like having to ambush you to see me either.”
“So why do it then?”
He smiles. “Because I wanted to see you and I knew it was the only way I could get you here.”
“Ok, you have seen me, what now?” I raise my eyebrows in question as I look at him blankly.
He smiles broadly. “Are you always such a charming date?”
I smile in embarrassment. “No, you are getting the deluxe package.”
He smiles and picks up the menu. “I see. How have you been?” he asks.
“Ok. You?”
“I’m good. Our last meeting has left me a little confused though.” His eyes search mine.
I frown. Let’s just get right into it then. “Why?” I ask trying to feign nonchalance.
“Because I had the best night I had had in years and then you walked me out to the car remember.”
I look down nervously as my heart rate picks up. “Yes, I remember.” I rearrange the napkin on the table.
“You kissed me.” His gaze penetrates mine.
My eyes rise to meet his. “Yes,” I whisper.
“It was insane.” He bites his bottom lip as he looks at me. “Off the charts. I know you felt it too.”
My eyes flick around the room in uncomfortable tension. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have kissed you. I …” I shrug my shoulders as words escape me.
He smiles sexily. “Don’t apologize, I’m not complaining.”
My eyes meet his. “What are you doing then?”
“Here you are.” The waitress puts our two drinks on the table.
“Thank you,” I smile. My eyes flick back to the ridiculously hot, intelligent man across the table from me.
“I want to know why you never returned any of my calls,” he asks.
I look around the restaurant in annoyance. I don’t need this shit.
“I’m sorry if you don’t get brushed often but I am not after anything and I don’t fuck around so …” I shake my head as I try to articulate my thoughts. “What’s the point? You live in France remember. Besides it was six months ago-why are you bringing this up now?”
He puts his hand across the table and grabs mine, and I swallow as I look at our entwined hands. “I’m bringing this up because the thought of you has been haunting me for six months and I want to know if you have ever thought of me?”
My eyes meet his. “Maybe,” I answer quietly.
“It’s a yes or no answer,” he says dryly.
“Yes,” I reply as I look at him again.
He squeezes my hand. “What have you thought?”
I swallow nervously and shrug my shoulders. “I wondered what would have happened if I called you.”
He smiles a broad smile at me and raises his eyebrows. “You did?” he whispers. “So what did you think would have happened between us?”
I shrug. “It probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere to be honest. I’m not into the whole casual sex thing and I’m guessing someone who looks like you is.” I smile.
He licks his lips as he smirks. “To be honest most men do throw themselves at my feet and I feel nothing, not interested at all and then you come along with your masculinity, intelligence and don’t give a fuck attitude and throw me completely off balance and yet you want nothing to do with me. It’s … frustrating.”
I laugh. “Is that how I come across? Masculine, intelligent and don’t give a fuck.”
He takes a sip of his drink and nods. It is then I notice that he is still holding my hand across the table. I immediately pull out of his grasp.
He smiles and looks at his outstretched arm on the table and pulls it back slowly. “You are different to most men I have met, Adrian.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You’re very masculine and yet have an inner gentle quality. You’re intensely sexual and yet you don’t sleep around, even though you are one of the best-looking men I have ever met. Your two best friends are straight and yet you are entirely comfortable being gay. You’re very intelligent and portray strength as you run the company and look after your two best friends, but it makes me wonder. When all is done and dusted, who looks after you, Adrian? Who satisfies you sexually … emotionally? Who loves you when you come home from work each night?” His eyes darken and drop to my lips.
I sit back affronted and look at him in horror. Who says that on a first date?
“That’s very deep.” I stammer. “You got all that info on me from dinner six months ago?”
He smiles into his drink. “Perks to being a psychologist.”
I smile as I drain my glass. “My best friend is in love with a psychologist and he reckons it’s the biggest mind fuck in history.”
“Is that Joshua?”
I nod and smile.