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Knight’s eyes followed every shift of his mouth, and then shot away. “So. Harry. Tell me, who are your biggest influencers?”
Knight engaged Harry in conversation, and Lake might have felt left out if Knight hadn’t made up for it by quietly swapping their plates.
For their main meal, Lake promised himself not to eye Knight’s (always) superior choice, and mostly managed.
Nevertheless, Knight left him a forkful of sage risotto and tender beef, and Lake could’ve cried at how amazing it tasted. When dessert came, any restraint on Lake’s part was lost, and he whimpered at the beautiful sight of Knight’s crème brûlée, berries, and roasted peach ice cream.
Knight laughed under his breath, and directed the waiter to set his dessert at Lake’s place, taking Lake’s caramel panna cotta instead.
Food eased Harry’s disappointment, but it didn’t erase it completely. When they returned home Harry made hurried excuses to turn in, and Lake wallowed in the bitterness of his meddling mistake while Knight made chamomile tea and disappeared to bed.
What else could Lake do? Thankfully Philip wasn’t part of Harry’s usual circles. At least they wouldn’t see each other again. Lake wouldn’t be inviting him to Taylor’s return party.
Maybe helping organize for Taylor’s return would occupy Harry’s mind? Or giving him another monologue to practice?
Lake readied himself for bed, brushed his teeth, and knocked on Knight’s door. Knight called him in.
Knight’s bedroom was bigger than his and continued the farmhouse theme. The walls were dark grey with a white ceiling and window trim and beautiful exposed wooden beams that matched his dresser, the large trunk at the end of the bed, and the two perfectly symmetrical bedside tables.
The bed itself was large with a padded headboard, and set on a soft, medallion-print rug.
Knight was sitting on the side closest to the windows, pillows bunched behind his back. His night lamp stretched light warmly over his naked torso, tanned arms and gently quizzical face.
Knight lay his Kindle on his lap and locked his hands behind his head. Dark tufts of armpit hair and the flex of his pecs stole Lake’s attention as he slunk toward the bed.
“Can I help you with something?” Knight asked.
“I don’t know.” Lake hesitated, then pulled back the blankets and slid into the cool, taut sheets. “I want someone to talk to.”
The bed felt divine. He sidled closer to Knight and leaned against the same hill of pillows.
Knight lowered his voice. “Talk about what?”
“Nothing.”
“Fascinating conversation.”
“Shhh, you’re ruining it.” Lake let out a tired yawn.
Blankets shifted, replaced by a waft of cool air as Knight swung out of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
Knight padded to the bathroom and returned thirty seconds later with Lake’s copy of Moby Dick.
Lake groaned. “I can’t.”
More air swished around him and blankets resettled over his lap. Knight’s arm bumped his as he studiously pulled out Lake’s tabloid bookmark.
He stopped at the Ask Adam section.
Lake read quietly at Knight’s shoulder.
My brother’s best friend walked in on me jerking off in the shower, and now that’s all I can think about when I touch myself.
My secret crush wants to room with me over the summer. I’m worried about his Jock-ass breaking my antique vases. Worried about his Jock-dick breaking me.
He abducted me one snowy night, let me go the next day, three years later, my blind date is him. I want to run hard and fast. But something is telling me to see him again.
My best friend and his girlfriend invited me into their bed. He only had eyes for me. Now things are awkward. I don’t want to lose my friend, want things to go back the way they were. But I’ve never felt so connected.
“Well,” Knight said, carefully folding the tabloid and setting it aside. “I feel reassured.”
“Reassured?” Were they reading the same thing?
“Clearly I’m not the only one capable of getting myself into implausible situations.”
“What implausible situation—ohh, you mean with out-of-bounds Paul. Maybe you should write your own letter.” Lake narrowed his eyes on Knight opening Moby Dick. “You’re going to make me read it, aren’t you? Gonna spout something like fair’s fair.”
Knight side-eyed him. “Fair is fair.”
He read aloud.
An hour later, Lake didn’t want him to stop.
Knight set it aside with a haughty smile. “See, not so bad.”
Lake huffed. “You could read the dictionary and I would like it.”
“We can start on that next.”
Lake rolled onto his side. He grabbed a pillow that thwarted his view of Knight’s face and tossed the offending object to the floor. “I’m truly done. Telling Harry, that amazing food, not to mention the exertion of laying all that kitchen tile. Quite the workout.”
“For your eyes,” Knight mused.
Heat trickled into Lake’s cheeks. “You caught me peeking, huh?”
“Staring seems a more accurate description.”
“It’s your fault.”
“Is it?”
“Seeing you naked and feeling the constant ghost of your let-me-prove-a-point kiss on my lips opened Pandora’s box.”
