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Bacon got a beer while Spencer got a greyhound, and while they were waiting for their drinks, Flor was claimed by more partygoers, leaving them to mingle on their own, something Spencer was, not surprisingly, excellent at. Still, it was fun to hang out at his side, watch him work the room. He greeted former newspaper colleagues along with people he apparently knew through his art-dealer father and Flor’s vast social network. Flor and Spencer were kind of like Curly—the hub around which a big network of interesting people moved. Thinking of his friend made Bacon’s chest hurt, and while Spencer was deep in conversation with a pair of female glass artisans he dashed off a quick text to him to see how his recovery was coming.
Spencer really could give classes on the art of small talk, the way he asked such good follow-up questions and knew when to press and when to tread lightly. Not for the first time, Bacon saw why he was such a renowned journalist. The charisma and confidence that laced his every action were every bit as intoxicating as Bacon’s beer, but it was his empathy that really stood out. He knew names, knew which pets and kids to ask after, and somehow had that rare quality of making whomever he was talking with feel like the most important person in the room. Bacon saw how people stood a little taller when he came over, how they basked in Spencer’s attention.
And through it all, he never forgot about Bacon, introducing him and making sure he could follow the conversations. He kept touching him too—a hand on his back or around his shoulders and little reassuring squeezes and pats while he talked with friends. It made his skin heat as if he’d pounded a few shots—it had been a long time since he’d felt publicly “claimed” by someone, and he liked it, probably a little more than he should.
“Do you want to dance?” Spencer asked as they moved away from a group that contained a YouTube celebrity along with a guy who apparently specialized in teaching people to breathe better.
“With you?”
“Or by yourself.” Spencer gave him an indulgent smile. “I’m very content to watch if you want to go have fun. I know who you’re going home with.”
“Yeah, you do.” Bacon gave in to temptation and gave him a fast kiss, something he probably wouldn’t have risked in San Diego, but here, in this crowd, it simply felt right. Later, they could worry about where this thing was headed, but all Bacon knew was that he wanted more. More time with Spencer. More kisses. More meeting his crowd. More touches. More of the settled feeling he got from hanging around Spencer. He wanted to bottle that feeling, store it up for the cold, lonely hours when he could use a memory or two like Spencer.
Chapter Seventeen
Spencer was the luckiest guy at the party—a feeling he hadn’t had in years and years, but he recognized the giddy thrum of his heart and the warmth in his chest. Having Del by his side made even ordinary conversations with friends better. And yeah, he was superficial enough to say that showing off his gorgeous guy was more than a little rush.
He really was gorgeous too. With his hair all artfully styled, shimmering under the patchy lights, and close-fitting clothes, he looked like he’d be at home headlining a rock concert. And the fact that he’d chosen Spencer to spend this weekend with...
Well, he couldn’t stop the pride that kept bubbling up in him any more than he could stop the need to touch Del, stake his claim. However, he’d urged Del to go dance while he got them fresh drinks. Part of that was a desire to watch from a distance, see how his beautiful guy attracted others. And sure enough, while Spencer was on a long line in front of the bar, Del started dancing alone on the edge of the dancefloor, but didn’t stay alone more than a few beats as a couple Spencer knew started dancing with him. They were probably hoping for a threesome, and Spencer got a little thrill knowing that Del could dance and flirt, but he was all Spencer’s at the end of the night.
Out in the field, Del moved purposefully, with the sort of intensity and confidence that Spencer found breathtaking, but he was equally inspired by Del’s dancing, which was much more fluid than Spencer would have predicted, loose and free-wheeling and flirtatious without trying too hard to seduce. He seemed happy to let others dance near him, but he didn’t make any effort take things further than a few easy grins.
Spencer lost sight of him while he made the drink order, and when he headed over to the dance area, Del had let Tim, the taller of the couple dancing with him, tug him closer, hands on Del’s waist. A strange mix of arousal and jealousy warred in Spencer’s gut. Standing at the edge of the dancefloor, he watched, wanting both to be the one touching Del and to keep watching him enjoy himself. But then their eyes met, and the best thing happened, Del’s eyes flaring wide with pleasure and a knowing smile tugging on his lips as he extricated himself from Tim and Morgan and sauntered over to Spencer.
