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He showed the message to Nate, and Nate flashed him a thumbs-up. “Awesome. Does a cheat day mean I can stuff you with carbs and fat?”
“Uh, pretty much,” Channon said, kind of relieved Nate had asked and wasn’t making fun of him. People always wanted to comment on the stuff he ate, and it was hard to explain without telling them that Jack controlled his diet because Jack controlled him. Nate already knew Jack owned Channon. It made it easier to breathe around him.
Nate grinned. “Next question: Tex-Mex or steakhouse?”
“Tex-Mex,” Channon said after a moment of hesitation. Cheese was normally a forbidden food, after all.
“Attaboy,” Nate said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know just the place.”
They ended up at an airy, cheerful, family restaurant with burgundy vinyl booths and adobe-rendered walls. It felt comfortable. Nate asked the staff to bring them ‘some of everything’. Channon relaxed, feeling like this was something he could manage.
“How’s Ewan?” he asked. Nate had been texting on the way over, and Channon assumed he knew who the messages were for.
“Grumbly,” Nate said, putting his phone aside and leaning back in his chair. “But when he’s grumbling, you know he’s all right. It’s when he’s quiet you have to worry.”
Channon nodded, knowing this to be true. “I hope…whatever the problem is with his ex…” He broke off, unsure how to finish that thought.
“It’ll be fine,” Nate reassured him. “Jack can keep him out of the hospital. That was a joke,” he added, obviously seeing Channon’s dismay at the idea. “He’s not in any danger. Except, maybe, from Jack.”
The server began bringing out tasting plates, mini tacos and empanadas and something that was supposed to be nachos, but each chip was individually loaded like an elaborate cracker. Channon said thank you and got a brilliant smile from the server in return.
Everything looked and smelled amazing. Spicy, cheesy, the tang of fine-sliced raw onion. Cheat day, he reminded himself, eyeing the vibrant guacamole. Jack said.
“Dig in,” Nate prompted, smiling a little. “You don’t have to wait for permission from me.”
Channon shook his head, reaching for one of those loaded nacho chips. “I can’t help it,” he said, and then he put the chip in his mouth and bit down.
Oh god. Maybe it was all the salad and steamed salmon and quinoa he’d been having lately, but the richness of cheese and refried beans that filled his mouth was overwhelming. There was something to be said about Jack’s whole self-denial thing—you really did appreciate things more when you got them.
He must have made an obscene noise, because Nate grinned. “Oh yeah. There we go. Good boy.”
Praise from Nate wasn’t the same as praise from Jack, it couldn’t possibly be. But Channon enjoyed it all the same.
As they ate, Nate kept up a casual conversation. Channon told him about the code he was working on, about his new unlock puzzle game and how he’d gotten it to generate new levels that had actual solutions instead of making them manually. Nate told Channon about a houseplant Ewan had bought for him that was doing its best to die, and how Nate had hooked up a raspberry pi to monitor temperature, light levels, moisture and pH, and was adding something to measure nitrogen when he got back to Santa Rita.
“The menace thinks it’s hilarious,” Nate said with amusement. “It’s like the plant is bratting for him. He’s outsourced his bratting. Automated it.”
“You could just let it die,” Channon suggested with fake innocence.
Nate gestured dismissively. “I know. I could. When I’m ready to hear about how much it means I don’t love him.”
Channon didn’t think he’d ever heard Nate admit he loved Ewan. “But you do,” he said, pleased.
“For my sins,” Nate agreed. “You’d do the same. So would Jack.”
Channon thought he probably would try his hardest to keep the plant alive and be very sorry when it inevitably died. Jack, meanwhile, would blame the plant, buy a replacement, and pay someone to take care of it for him. Or get Channon to do it.
When he said this aloud, Nate laughed. “Oh man, he would too. Ewan would hate that so much. This,” Nate said, reaching for his margarita, “is why they don’t get along. I hope neither of them are killing the other right now.”
He sounded fond, but Channon frowned. “They could get along. If they wanted.”
Nate shrugged. “I wouldn’t hold your breath for that. Jack has his control issues and Ewan…has his out-of-control issues. There’s no changing Ewan to suit Jack, and Jack won’t change for anyone.” He paused, and then his eyes slid to Channon, his expression thoughtful. “I used to think that was true anyway. But I guess he has changed, for you.”
“What was he like before?” Channon asked, unsure what Nate meant.
“Impossible to pin down. Jack didn’t do relationships. He was untouchable.” Nate looked away, at a past Channon couldn’t see. “I was the closest thing he had to a partner, but even that wasn’t really…real.”
There was something in the way he said it that made Channon feel sorry about it. “But you’re still…I mean, you two are like…I don’t know. Kind of more than friends.”
