by Anna Zabo
Such a change of pace, from sunny California to weather-temperamental New York City. Though today? Today was practically postcard-worthy. Clear blue sky. Warm summer sun, but a dry, cool breeze that kept the temperatures mellow and the humidity low.
Wouldn’t have mattered if it had been pouring rain, though. He was still so fucking glad to be back where he belonged. Didn’t regret that decision at all, even if taking over the house had estranged him from most of his family.
But if he hadn’t come back, hadn’t moved into the brownstone, he’d never have met Dominic at Poet and Whiskey.
And now, with Dominic tugging him up the steps of the Met, there was no place on Earth he’d rather be.
When Dominic had suggested going to the Met this weekend, Adrian’d been a little disappointed, since he wanted more than just looking at art. He’d wanted a glimpse behind some of those walls Dominic threw up.
Then Dominic had said the magic words: “There’s a tour today where they’re bringing out some of the stringed instruments for a demo, including a seventeenth century guitar.” His eyes had shone with excitement and delight. “I’ve heard recordings—there’s even stuff on the website—but to experience that in person?”
Adrian recognized the shiver of delight, and that had cinched it. He could touch Dominic like that—he wanted to know what else did. And this was music-related, something Dominic tended to push away.
As it happened, the galleries that housed the Met’s musical instrument collection had apparently been undergoing some major renovations over the last couple of years and they were finally in the process of being reopened. As part of that, there’d been some special tours, including performances with instruments from their extensive collection.
Normally, this was the type of thing Adrian would have passed up—tours were tourist traps or designed for school groups—but the way Dominic’s face lit up each time he thought of hearing some instrument from a couple hundred years ago played live...
Yes, he’d seen Dominic in the throes of passion, but that didn’t nearly measure up to the intense need in every fiber of Dominic’s frame. The man was a musician, indeed. He might not talk about his career or his band for whatever reason, but this—this Dominic was willing to share, so Adrian followed, and gladly.
He also adored the feel of Dominic’s hand in his and how utterly unashamed Dominic was to hold his. For someone who could be so shy at times, Dominic was utterly free about expressing his sexuality. Though sometimes, when he looked at Adrian, there was still that haunting sadness or worry. Less and less, though.
They were dating.
And Adrian was grateful for that. He’d rather have Dominic’s smiles and sexy little glances, and not have to worry about whether this was a very long casual thing. Plus, he wanted more, too. More throaty cries, more cuffs and rope, more lazy talks after sex, more of Dominic paging through books and snuggling next to him to read poetry.
As they walked through the Met’s Great Hall, Adrian had that quickening of breath he got whenever he visited a museum. This one topped his list. The Met had art and history—and he was here holding the hand of Dominic Bradley, with his flushed cheeks and a smile Adrian wanted to kiss forever.
This moment, right here, was giddy and full. The seed of deep love. Tantalizing. But calm and sweet. It took everything Adrian had not to get his hopes up yet.
They’d seen each other every weekend since that first one, and a few weeknights, too. More and more, Adrian learned about Dominic, and his childhood in New Jersey. He’d gotten a degree in history with a minor in music from Montclair State University, which explained his familiarity with New York City.
In return, Adrian shared pieces of his own life, beyond the tangled mess of his return to New York. Pieces of his childhood in Brooklyn. His parents’ reaction to his interest in more than just women. His running with his neighborhood crew until college in Buffalo. How hard it’d been to move to a place where he’d needed to learn to drive and own a car. And hadn’t that blown Dominic’s mind, that Adrian hadn’t bothered to get his license until well after he turned eighteen.
Being at the university had also been less diverse in many ways.
Adrian glanced around as they stood in line to get entrance tickets. Not so true here. Many different skin tones. So many languages. Sure, some were tourists, but not everyone. It felt more like home than anywhere else had. And people had the gall to say New Yorkers lived in a bubble?
“Are you staying?” The question came unbidden to Adrian’s lips. “Here in New York? For good?”
There was a hint of confusion in Dominic’s face as he replied, “Yeah. I bought a house here. I mean, I’m gonna travel some.” He got that faraway look again. “Sometimes the band—” He shrugged, and the brilliant smile returned. “This is my home. I love it here.”
That was one of the other things Dominic never touched on—how a guitarist for this band he was in could afford to buy a place in Brooklyn. But Adrian let the thought slide away. Dominic would tell him in time, would open those doors to whatever it was he wasn’t sharing. After all, Adrian had said that was fine, that some secrets could be kept.
He would live with that. Or it would grate on him too much eventually—and they’d go their separate ways. Though right now it pained him horribly to consider it, there was still that option.
He needed a partner who trusted him, and suspected Dominic needed that, as well. That took time, but at some point, it also meant Dominic opening the doors to the secrets about his career, the one he loved so much.
Dominic gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”
Adrian brought the back of Dominic’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Good. I like having you here.”
And he fucking loved that smile and the light in those eyes.
When they reached the front of the line, they showed their New York IDs, but paid a little more than the recommended donation amount for the entrance fee anyway, since they could both afford it. Dominic handed over his card before Adrian could. When he started to complain, Dominic held up his hands. “Hey, this is me dragging you to see old instruments. I’ll pay. I know this isn’t really your thing.”
“Well, I do get to see you obsess all over something you love. I’d be happy to pay for that privilege. Plus, there’s the rest of the museum, and plenty of things I’d love to see again, too.” There were tons of galleries Adrian had loved as a child, and no trip was ever complete without a stop to see the Egyptian temple in the Sackler Wing.
“Whatever you say.” Dominic winked, then took his card back from the cashier and got their stickers for admission. They paused long enough to put the stickers on, then headed to the tour sign to wait for the guide.
“I’ve never done one of these tours,” Adrian said. “Not since I was a kid. And those were mandatory pains in the ass.”
“I loved going to museums as a kid, especially the ones here in the city.” Dominic almost looked heartbroken at Adrian’s words. “Field trips were the best.”
“Oh, I loved them, too, but I wanted to explore and go to my favorite exhibits, not be dragged around for educational purposes. I suppose I’ve never been very good at being a follower.”
Dominic’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.
“What?” He nudged Dominic. “Out with it.”
Dominic looked up at the vaulted ceilings, his mouth still curved into that quirky smile. “Well, on the one hand, you can be passionately domineering, challenging, and you often forge ahead...”
There was definitely another part to that. “But on the other hand?”
Dominic dropped his gaze from the ceiling to stare at Adrian. “You work as a computer programmer for a bank.”
Touché. And for some reason, one of the very first questions Dominic had ever asked Adrian tumbled through his mind again. Did he like his job?
Well enough had been his answer. That was still true...and Dominic had pegged it for exactly what it was: a passive and safe position. “It’s computer engineer, and technically, it’s a financial services institution.”
Dominic’s lips lost their upward curve, and he looked down.
No, no, that wouldn’t do. Not for the truth. He raised Dominic’s hand again and pressed his lips to it once more. “But you’re right. In some things I’m fine with following. And it is a bank, and I do program.”
The smile didn’t return, but Dominic did meet his gaze. “You’re so passionate about everything else. Your house, your books. I think you’re passionate about your programming, too. It’s just that when you do talk about your job, other than the people you enjoy and the challenges you overcome...”
“It’s not with the same intensity?”
Dominic nodded.
Well, he’d wanted truth. Adrian scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I like it well enough.” The words tasted a little dry, though he said it with humor.
There was something sad about Dominic’s smile, so Adrian bumped his hip. “I have other outlets for my passion.”
This time Dominic laughed and that lovely flush returned, so Adrian pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him until the tour guide appeared to lead them to the galleries with the musical instruments.
The tour, it turned out, was incredibly interesting. Each instrument type was explained and the subject was wrapped in history and musicology, though that was aimed more at Adrian’s level of understanding than Dominic’s, obviously. There must have been a few other musicians in their group, because some of them asked questions with terms Adrian didn’t know and the answers that followed, though in English, made no sense to him. From Dominic’s subtle nods, he understood perfectly, though.
This must have been what it was like for a non-programmer to stand in a sea of software engineers talking shop and code. Next holiday party, Adrian was going to take pains to converse about other topics with some of the non-techheads.
Or he needed to learn a thing or two about music—not just listen to it.
The best part, as he predicted, was Dominic’s joy. The way his eyes lit up when he studied the various guitars and mandolins and violins and...well, all the other stringed instrument names Adrian didn’t catch.
Dominic pulled him close to one case. “God, look at the inlay around the sound hole on this gittern. And the wood. This must have sounded glorious in its day.” He reached out and his fingers hovered just shy of the glass. “I once held one of Bo Diddley’s cigar-box guitars and that was a trip, but I’d saw off my right arm to play one of these, if there was one still in working condition.”
Adrian blinked a few times. “Wouldn’t you have a hard time playing it if you sawed off your arm?”
Dominic huffed a laugh and his eyes fucking twinkled. Adrian wanted to kiss him right then and there. “Well, there is that. I guess it stays on for now.”
“Probably for the best.”
Dominic stepped over to the next case. “I wonder if they ever let anyone play the ones in good condition. I mean, aside from on a tour like this.”
Someone coughed behind them, and they both turned. Their tour guide, Luke, a stunning black man with an easy professional smile, stood with his hands behind his back. “We do. Most often on these tours we have musicians who play as part of the demonstrations, but we do also invite professional musicians to record pieces with some of our less fragile instruments.”
Dominic practically vibrated. They’d been holding hands the entire time, and his grip on Adrian’s held the same intensity as the other lines of his body. “How do you choose? I mean, that has to be such an honor.”
“Well, I don’t personally choose.” Luke placed a hand on his chest, and that smile became less professional and more flirtatious for a moment. “But I can give you the card to the curator’s office and you can inquire with them. Tell them I sent you.”
Adrian gave Dominic’s hand a little squeeze. Encouragement—at least for the getting the card part. He certainly admired the figure the tour guide cut, but Dominic was his date. His boyfriend.
A thrill like sparks ran through Adrian. He still couldn’t get over that fact. He shouldn’t feel this giddy, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, that would be fantastic,” Dominic said, and the tour guide slipped him a card, beamed a little too brightly, touched Dominic a little too long, then moved on.
And on the heels of giddiness, jealousy struck. Strange to have that tumble through him—he rarely felt that kind of spike of covetousness. Or anger.
“He likes you,” Adrian murmured.
“Yeah, I know.” Dominic had this wry look. “But I’m seeing someone.”
Adrian’s heart flipped over in his chest. “Oh? Must be quite the guy if you’re passing up a museum guide who can get you an in with a rare instruments curator.”
Dominic pulled him close. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Who, me? Never.”
Dominic grinned and kissed his nose. “My guy’s quite the gentleman, yes.”
Another cough from Luke redirected them, and the tour moved on to the next section.
When they reached a more open gallery, there was a cloth-covered table with four instruments related to the modern guitar, and a woman waiting by it. She was dressed in all black, and her dark, wavy hair was piled up into a bun on her head.
Luke nodded to her. “Adelaida Mellado is here from Juilliard to demonstrate some of the instruments we discussed.”
As she picked each one up, the guide gave a little speech about the particular piece’s history, the maker, who owned it, where it had been played—all the interesting tidbits—then talked about the music that would be played.
Then a sweet melody swept over the room, and everyone hushed as she played. Her eyes were hooded and her body flowed with the same controlled movements he saw in every orchestra performer he’d ever seen in concert. Next to Adrian, Dominic watched, gaze fixed, mouth open. Such intensity. His fingers twitched in Adrian’s.
Oh yes—Dominic wanted to play. Wanted his fingers where this woman’s were. His desire was entirely for what she held in her hands, for the sound that echoed across the room.
And that was only the first of four instruments.
By the time the demo and the tour were over, Dominic’s eyes were a little glazed and his fingers very twitchy. He approached the table with the reverence of a pilgrim looking at relics. Adrian trailed, savoring this rare view of Dominic’s world.
Adelaida looked up at Dominic. “Do you play? You have that look...”
He laughed, his cheeks reddening. “Yeah. Mostly modern, you know? But I studied classical in college, and the history...” He shook his head slightly. “They’re beautiful. They sound—” He gave a little sigh.
“Would you like to—” She turned to the guide. “Could he—?”
Luke glanced at Dominic and then Adrian, and resignation flickered there before smoothing into a smile. “For a moment, yes. I think that would be okay.”
Dominic made a noise that was half a wheeze and half a sigh. Adelaida handed him a late-Renaissance-era guitar, and he ducked under the strap and cradled it in his arms, setting his left fingers on the strings. He tapped the body gently with a fingernail on his right hand. “Wow. God. The resonance.”
He took a breath and strummed the strings gently, playing chords, his expression so profound, so utterly open and clear.
Adrian held his breath, listened to Dominic play, and drank in every flicker of his eyes, twitch of mouth, and curl of those amazing fingers.
After a few minutes, he quieted the strings, took the strap off and handed the guitar back to Adelaida. “Thank you,” he said. “That was amazing.”
She smiled at him. “You’re very good! Do you play for a qua
rtet or orchestra, or...?”
He shrugged. “I’m in a band. It’s—rock. Nothing like this.” He gestured at the instruments. “I just love music and history. The sound. That someone hundreds of years ago made and then played this. That I can.”
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s really amazing, isn’t it?”
Dominic thanked her again, shook hands with Luke, and backed up until Adrian pressed a hand against his spine. “You okay, babe?”
Dominic’s smile was blinding. “You called me babe in public.”
Adrian noticed that Luke rolled his eyes but had a small smile as he packed up the instruments. “Well, yes?” He couldn’t help but grin back at Dominic.
Laughter followed, and that was more beautiful a sound to Adrian than what had come from the three-hundred-plus-year-old guitar. “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t we go get some lunch and then figure out what else you want to see?” Adrian put his arm around Dominic and they headed out of the gallery, back toward the main part of the museum. “Cafe here or food carts outside?” It was a nice day, after all.
“You know,” Dominic said, “there’s supposed to be a rooftop bar in here somewhere...”
“Really?” Adrian’s voice pitched up. “That place is a tourist trap.”
“Well, yes.” That flirty, cock-tightening grin was back. “Let’s play tourist. See how the other half live.”
Adrian shook his head—but this was Dominic’s day, so they went searching. It took a little bit to find it, since they had to head back down to the first floor to take the elevator to the fifth, but they emerged into the perfect summer day and a stunning view of the city.
“Okay,” Dominic said. “Now see? This view is worth it.”
It really was, actually. Million-buck vista of the skyline. “Lunch? Drinks?”
“You gonna get me tipsy at the Met?” Dominic bumped his hip.
