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“Yes.” Christ, it felt too big—because really, that implied forever, and Adrian had never even thought in those categories. “I mean, he could be. I think.”
“Then yes, he is your guy.” Martin made it sound simple when it sure as hell wasn’t.
“I doubt he sees it that way.” Adrian exhaled a sigh. “He’s had a few shitty exes, so he isn’t looking.”
“So show him you’re better than the people he used to date.” Martin tilted his head slightly, arching an eyebrow. “Honestly, if he isn’t half in love with you already, he’s an idiot. And I don’t think he is.”
“But you’re biased,” Adrian said.
Martin laughed. “Wow. Hit me where it hurts, why don’t you?” There was no bitterness in his eyes, and on impulse, Adrian pulled him into a full-body hug.
“Love you, mate.”
“Love you too.” Martin kissed the corner of Adrian’s mouth, just a sweet, familiar moment of contact. When they separated, his face was serious. “Promise you’ll think about it?”
‘If he isn’t half in love with you already, he’s an idiot.’
Adrian inhaled until his lungs felt too full. He released the air slowly, in measured increments. “Yeah, okay. I will.”
He would, yes.
Didn’t mean he’d act on it because things were good, weren’t they? So. Why rock the boat?
12
“Okay, I did a look.” Georg, the town plumber, rapped his knuckles on the reception desk for emphasis. “Come with?”
“Come with me,” Adrian corrected with a smile, and Georg gave him a thumbs up. In his late fifties, he’d decided that it was time to train his brain along with his body, and foreign languages were his chosen means to that end. His Swiss accent was stronger than Dad’s, but Adrian found it charming.
So did Eric, it seemed. Earlier, he’d commented on admiring Georg’s willingness to jump right in and make mistakes, on how he saw it as an inspiration to expand his own knowledge of German beyond a few basic expressions. Adrian had tried not to read too much into it.
“Come with me,” Georg repeated, more to himself, before he nodded at Adrian. “It’s easier to show you.”
That sounded mildly worrying. Adrian would have preferred to hear, “All fixed, you’ll get my bill in the mail.”
“Sure.” He locked the computer before he got out from behind the reception desk, following Georg up the stairs to the top floor. It was just Adrian’s luck that Mr Foster stepped out into the hallwayright as Adrian and Georg passed on the way to the attic, accessible by pull-down stairs.
“A plumber?” Mr Foster commented acidly. “How original.”
Wow.
Adrian struggled to come up with a response that wasn’t something like,‘Since we’re talking clichés, good job nailing the creepy dude role.’
Fortunately, Georg had never been one of those who’d faulted Adrian for his unorthodox choice of student jobs. Unperturbed, he glanced from his own tool belt to Mr Foster, then at Adrian. “If this guy has a screw loose, I can help with that.”
“Excuse me?” Mr Foster said loudly, and Adrian fought hard to stifle a laugh.
“What he’s saying”—he kept his tone light and pleasant—“is that the only tool in play here is a wrench. Now if you’ll excuse us, please.”
Mr Foster grumbled something that Adrian decided to ignore, motioning for Georg to start walking again. If this was enough to prompt a bad review? Fuck it. Adrian had tried to solve this delicately, he really had. In a way, he’d even benefitted in that whenever the Fosters were around, Eric stood a little closer, his smiles lingering. Dinner service was starting to feel like foreplay, and Adrian didn’t mind one bit.
But enough was enough, and if Mr Foster couldn’t keep his eyes and comments to himself—well, Adrian was done being his fantasy fodder. He was worth more than that.
“Was that right?” Georg asked when they were out of hearing range, about to ascend the ladder to the attic. “He has a screw loose?”
“Just perfect,” Adrian told him.
“Oh, good.” Georg sounded deeply satisfied with himself, and rightfully so. He’d been fucking brilliant.
