Page 15

The doors opened and there was Konrad. Not out of place among the grandiosity, unlike Jasper.

“I’m here,” Jasper said like an idiot.

“Indeed.” Konrad’s eyes lowered, taking in his outfit, and Jasper would have been so happy to just burst into flames on the spot. “Please, come in.”

Jasper walked into the foyer and bent to unlace his boots. The marble floor was entirely too shiny not to. He left them by the door, following Konrad in his black socks, taking in his surroundings as he went. The decor was elegant but not excessive. Each piece of art or furniture seemed to have been chosen with great care. They passed through the dining room with a massive table that had been home to many a dinner party, Jasper was sure. They reached the kitchen and oh, this felt more familiar. This felt like Konrad.

It was vast, but the island was covered with the makings of dinner, and Jasper realized for the first time what Konrad was wearing. Or rather, not wearing. His white dress shirt was tucked primly into his black slacks, but there was no jacket, nor tie or vest. The first buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up.

Jasper could see pale hair on his chest and looked away like a Victorian man scandalized at the sight of a bare ankle.

“Are you making pasta?” Jasper asked, sitting on one of the stools at the island.

“I am. Would you like to help?”

Jasper smiled. He was back on his feet in an instant, circling around to stand next to Konrad. He nodded along to Konrad’s instructions on what to do, hoping he couldn’t fuck up the simple task of cutting the dough into similarly sized pieces.

“I must warn you that you may get flour on your pretty shirt.”

Jasper laughed. “Pretty?”

“Yes.”

He thought it was just teasing, so the calm confirmation made him snap his mouth shut. Konrad moved on to another task but stayed close while Jasper cut segments of pasta dough. There was piano music playing from somewhere else in the house, filling the space their silence left. Jasper’s eyes kept wandering to his side, to Konrad’s toned forearms, and higher still to the hollow of his throat. He even dared another glance at the dusting of hair that had drawn his eye before. Jasper had always assumed Konrad to be wiry under his suits, but his chest was broad, filling out his shirt.

Once dinner was cooking, Konrad poured them each a glass of red wine. Its taste was rich and full, complex on his tongue where the whites were more refreshing. Jasper stood against the counter and watched Konrad clean up. He’d offered to help, but Konrad had adamantly refused.

“We have some time before we eat. Come, let me entertain you.”

Jasper chewed the inside of his lip. He knew Konrad wasn’t being suggestive, but maybe it was the wine making it land on his ears that way. “Okay.”

He followed Konrad through the dining room, into what Jasper would hesitate to call something as reductive as a living room. It was a sprawling space, full of natural light from arched windows, the last of the day’s sun pouring between dark red curtains. Jasper almost snorted when Konrad strode to a grand piano and sat down.

Of course he had a piano.

“Are all rich people just born knowing how to play the piano?” Jasper joked.

“Of course,” Konrad replied with a smile. “Knowing how to waltz, as well.”

Jasper laughed and leaned against the side of the piano. He watched Konrad’s hands move across the keys, playing something he was probably supposed to recognize, but he only knew that it sounded beautiful. When he looked up, Konrad inclined his head next to himself in invitation.

Jasper sat beside him on the bench, their shoulders and knees touching, reminding him all too much of falling asleep on Konrad’s shoulder. That embarrassment was going to follow him to the grave.

“I never could learn to play an instrument,” he murmured. “Always felt like my fingers got tied into knots.”

“Let me show you. Put your hand right here.”

Jasper looked down at where Konrad tapped a key, not hard enough to press it down and create a sound. Jasper hesitantly brought his hand up, his fingers twitching when Konrad’s hand laid over his. Konrad pressed one of his fingers down. Then another, then the first one again, then a third one. He did it a second time and then let Jasper do it himself.

They looked strange together—Jasper’s black nails and tattooed hand under Konrad’s bare one, such different things, moving in harmony. Konrad showed him another sequence and let Jasper copy him. Then he let go of Jasper’s hand, instead playing a few notes further down the piano, and letting Jasper mimic it by ear.

He smiled when Jasper managed. “Good.”

“You’re a good teacher,” Jasper said softly.

He glanced over and found Konrad’s eyes already on him. Jasper laughed and looked away, feeling oddly shy all of a sudden. Konrad’s attention had a strange effect on him. Jasper was used to being analyzed for being strange and having people trying to pry into him, but Konrad had crept in quietly. Politely. An inch at a time. Pushing boundaries but never crossing them until Jasper allowed it.

Konrad’s hand returned to his. Jasper waited to have his fingers pressed down on the keys, and swallowed when they weren’t. It was just a touch.