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Adrian was charming.
It wasn’t news, but watching him with Lucas and Max really drove it home. He’d offered them a tour “so you know what you’re promoting,” weaving an entertaining narrative from bits of history, tales of quirky guests, daily hotel tasks, and how his grandparents had come to own the place. Even Max, understandably reserved around new people, started laughing freely some ten minutes in. Maybe it was down to his familiarity with Adrian’s stage persona, but Eric liked to think it was Adrian himself. Admittedly, Eric was biased.
They finished in the basement, somewhere underneath the staff and family wing, in an area that had served as a type of spa. “About a century ago, they rerouted the nearby sulphur spring through the Gletscherhaus.” Adrian gestured at a series of porcelain tubs along one wall, chipped and discoloured. A damp, earthy scent hung in the air, tinged with the faintest smell of sulphur.
“Looks ready for use,” Lucas said lightly, and Adrian laughed.
“One day, perhaps—I just need to win the lottery first. But it would be fun to reopen a spa right where it used to be ages ago. Could put up pictures of what it used to look like and all.”
Apparently, Lucas read this as an invitation to draw Adrian into a playful debate about the relative merits of buying a lottery ticket versus marrying rich.
“He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” Max asked Eric in an undertone, the exasperated question belied by the fond tilt to his mouth.
“Well, it is a bit funny,” Eric allowed. “Never pegged you for the type to get a trophy husband. A West End dancer, though? It kind of ticks the box.”
The twist to Max’s mouth grew into a proper smile. “Says the guy dating a porn star.”
“We’re not—”
“Yeah,” Max cut Eric off, “you are. For fuck’s sake, mate, you asked Lucas and me for help—of course you’re dating the guy. Why don’t you just throw some money at his problem?”
That was a fair question. Eric glanced at where Adrian and Lucas were inspecting a tangle of rusted pipes and valves. “Because I know he wouldn’t take it.”
Max’s nod signalled approval. “Good. I like this guy.”
“Me too.” Eric studied Max for a second, then motioned him closer to a row of sconces that cast their dim light. “Listen, can I show you something?”
A brief, assessing look, then Max’s face brightened. “Go ahead.”
“It’s just some lyrics.” Three pages, in fact, that Eric hadn’t been able to fit into the songs he’d been working on lately. Some of them were daily lines Adrian had asked for, spur-of-the-moment sparks of creativity, while others had sat with Eric for days before he’d put them down on paper. “I thought they might work for you.”
“Let me see?” Max looked genuinely interested.
Taking that as his cue, Eric reached for a folded piece of paper he’d tucked into his pocket earlier. It held a distilled version of his scattered ideas, arranged into something that could combine into a story.
Your smile sells riddles. Gentle snares of longing. Lost in your moonlit curves. You’re the midnight wish I’m scared to make. A hint of sunrise I didn’t see coming. Avalanche emotions.
He handed it over and deliberately turned away while Max read it—no matter how many top ten hits Eric landed, it would always be daunting to watch another person read his lyrics. Except…
Huh. Except Adrian did it all the time, casually helping himself to whatever notes Eric left lying around, cheerful disrespect for boundaries that Eric would set with others. And somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Eric to mind.
“This is good,” Max said into that thought. “I like the vibe.”
Eric faced him, suddenly aware of how they’d last collaborated on a song before things went to shit between them. “It’s not about Lucas,” he told Max quietly. “In case you were wondering.”
Max grinned. “Yeah, I wasn’t. But good to know, I guess.”
“You can make it about him if you want to?” Eric flicked a glance at where Adrian and Lucas seemed to have jumped into an animated discussion about different types of saunas. Who knew Lucas held strong opinions on traditional Finnish versus infrared? Not Eric, that’s who—but then Lucas had been touring with Max most of the time Eric had dated him. They really hadn’t known each other that well.
“It can be about both of them once we’re done,” Max said.
Eric turned back to him, surprised at the warmth in Max’s eyes. They’d been mates but never friends—as a general rule, Max kept his cards close to his chest, only a privileged few allowed to glimpse behind the beautiful face. But love had a funny way of changing people, didn’t it?
“So you want it?” Eric asked, and Max nodded.
“If you’re offering? Yeah, absolutely.” He weighed Eric for a beat. “Okay, so I’ve got a deal for you.”
“A deal?”
