Page 95 of Ask Me For Fire


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He’d taken to calling Barrettdarlingand his big bear of a boyfriend liked it, so it stayed. He tried not to overuse it but Barrett made that difficult sometimes; for all the things he did worth adarling, Ambrose wanted to add onsweetheartandmy loveand maybe another dozen endearments. He was pretty sure Barrett would take them all in stride, like he did ninety-five percent of things.

The rooftop bar Barrett wanted to visit was an open-air space twinkling with strands of solar lights amidst curling ivy and the scent of dying summer flowers. Their little table was in the far corner, away from most of the crowd and situated so they could see the blues guitarist who was due on stage any minute. It had been a whirlwind few days and now they had a chance to stop and relax. To be with each other and celebrate in their own, quiet way.

They ordered specialty cocktails, knees touching under the table, hands curled together on the marble top. Barrett looked spectacular in a dark blue sports jacket and matching pants, a pale pink shirt underneath, open at the throat despite the chill in the air. Ambrose had thrown on a thick sweater with faux leather patches and a diagonal zipper at the neck. Raf had “suggested” the sweater to him and he’d bought it without thinking. He wanted to look good for Barrett during their celebration at the bar and from the expression on Barrett’s face, he’d done well.

The tight,tightblack jeans were probably helping, too.

Overhead the stars glittered in a velvet black sky and Ambrose looked up, trying to track a few of the constellations he knew. But the hand on his knee was distracting in the best possible way. “So, this is kind of where my plan ended,” Barrett said in his ear. “I just wanted to come here since Val talked about it after her work party.”

“I think it’s lovely. And we don’t need a plan besides enjoying the night and our drinks and the music.” A few people carrying guitars climbed onto the small stage and the crowd quieted down. “And each other. It’s perfect.”

The night took on a dream-like quality as they sipped their drinks and listened to the live music. The blues guitars were smoky and deep, the riffs making Ambrose’s fingers ache for his guitar back home. The two men and one woman on stage were technically skilled, but they infused their music with a chaotic energy that swung from somber to playful and back. It tugged the audience along with it, leaving the air thick with emotion like raw nerve endings. Ambrose could feel his hair stand on end.

“They’re really good,” Barrett said in his ear. Ambrose shivered and snuggled closer. “We should dance.”

“No one else is dancing,” he pointed out, but there were definitely a lot of people wiggling in their seats.

“Then we’ll start it up.” And Barrett tugged him from the stool, swooping them into the space clearly meant for dancing but sadly abandoned as of the moment. Ambrose loved the way Barrett swung into action, clear and confident and willing to misstep or fuck up completely. He wasn’t afraid of failure, and he wasn’t afraid of new things. Barrett said Ambrose gave him that confidence, and maybe that was true to an extent, but Ambrose saw Barrett fully in moments like these. Smiling and laughing, his grip sure but not too tight. The press of his body, the warmth of his kiss, the deep rumble of his voice in Ambrose’s ear.

“You are divine,” he said, lifting a hand to Barrett’s jaw. “I love you. I hope your birthday’s been good so far.”

Barrett’s answer was immediate. “The best. I love you, too. You’re too good to me.”

“I think we could both say that to each other until the end of days and it would never not be true.”

The way Barrett’s face crumpled, the shine to his eyes, almost made Ambrose tear up as well. He choked it back, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Looks like we started something,” Barrett said in his ear as they watched other couples wander out to the dance floor, the music carrying them into a soft sway against the somber guitar notes.

“That just means they have good taste,” he replied, grinning.

When Barrett leaned in to kiss him, Ambrose cast his gaze up for just a moment to take in that sky once more. “It’s no fire tower,” he said, playfully kissing Barrett. “It’s better.”

Chapter twenty-seven

“You’rehere!”Rafsangas Ambrose and Barrett walked into the gallery. The massive open space wasn’t traditional in any way. It sang of color and taste, the walls painted a beautiful dark blue and the floors white marble that gleamed in the glare of the overhead lights. But taking all that in after walking through the rotunda entrance practically dripping in flowers was almost a balm on the eyes. Raf immediately hugged them both and then with teasing fingers straightened Barrett’s tie. “You look fantastic.”

“Are you saying that because you helped pick out the clothes?” Barrett was barely able to suppress a grin.

“Pish, hardly. I know for a fact if you didn’t want to take my suggestions, you wouldn’t. Ambrose is a stubborn mule and you listen to him. That’s all the evidence I need of any potential recalcitrance.” Raf stepped back to eye them at arm’s length. He was resplendent in a velvet jacket the color of mulberries, paisley shirt and yellow scarf gorgeously contrasting with his dark hair. “You look perfect. The party’s about to start, so feel free to wander, order at the bar, and then just take it all in.” He squeezed their arms. “I’m so glad you’re here, both of you.”

Raf flitted off to attend to the rest of the preparations and greet guests upon arrival, leaving he and Ambrose to wander. The new gallery exhibit was “The Science of Art”, focusing on natural landscapes, glittering galaxies, and even paintings and models of DNA strands. It was like nothing Barrett had ever seen and he found himself gawking open-mouthed at the beautiful pieces on display.

“I did say Raf had unique taste,” Ambrose said quietly in his ear as they walked arm in arm, sipping champagne. “But he’s even outdone himself here.”

“And these are all local artists?” Barrett leaned in to get a closer look at a mixed-media piece depicting the solar system. The colors curved and sang in his vision and he had to blink a few times to refocus on the piece as a whole.

“Most of them. Some Raf found through his many, many connections. And some of them are his new marketing manager’s doing.” Ambrose looked around, as if trying to spot Raf’s mysterious new employee, the one they’d only heard about a few times when Raf called. “But they must have called in some favors, too.”

“I can only imagine.”

Ambrose snorted. “He’s always been good at networking. I remember him brokering peace between clubs on campus several times.”

“Good lord.”

They continued to walk, pausing often to admire the complexity and skill with which the art pieces were crafted. They read the description cards and circled around the gathering crowds. Neither one of them wanted to stand in the middle of a bunch of “critics“ sneering over their champagne glasses. But even as they passed others and overheard snippets of conversation, the general opinion seemed to be awe. It really was like no other gallery show.

Raf caught up with them later, his cheeks slightly pink from excitement. His ascot was gone and the little gold medallion he always wore glinted below the hollow of his throat. “You two! Here we are, my loves.” He neatly inserted himself between them and guided them over to a door on the east side of the building. Barrett shot Ambrose a curious look and his boyfriend shrugged. “My little surprise for the night. I wanted you to see it first, before I let in the gaping masses.”

With a nudge from his hip, Raf opened the door, then ducked back out. Barrett turned to ask what was going on, but that’s when the centerpiece of the room caught his eye.

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