“Rule #3. I told you I don’t do kisses…”
Tony rolled his blue eyes and smirked. “You also told me that you don’t do repeats. We got plastered that night, but I remember parts. Good parts.”
“I was desperate,” Elijah said with a smile.
“You were in need for another taste, Elijah. It’s okay to admit that. We’re both grown.”
Elijah followed him inside, watching the boy pull off his hoodie. He had an all-grey t-shirt underneath. “We’re both grown? I’m pretty sure you aren’t even the legal drinking age, buddy. Relax.”
Tony laughed, walking over to the sofa and taking a seat. Elijah began to untie the drawstring of his sweats.
“I wouldn’t be able to bartend if I wasn’t. Can I have something to drink?”
Great. Now he was playing good host. “Is water okay?”
“Perfect.” Tony licked his lips and sat back, crossing one leg over the other.
He watched as Elijah slipped a hand into his pants and began to stroke himself as he went. It made him smile. Just like the time before, Elijah was all about getting straight to business. The room was dimly lit, but when Tony looked away, he could see the condom on the coffee table and the bottle of lube beside him.
“So we’re doing it right here?” he asked.
Elijah remembered him being this chatty last time, but it was because they’d hung out at the bar before heading back to his place. There wasn’t an excuse this time. “Yep.” He poured him a glass of water with his free hand. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
Tony hummed acknowledgment.
As Elijah walked back over to him, he grimaced as he saw Tony glancing at his laptop. The screen was on an open article about Grayson – it was actually an article about his father saying Grayson would head the company after him, but there was a picture of the dirty blond smiling at a red carpet event. Tony looked up at him as he returned, thanking him for the glass of water.
“Who is this guy? He’s pretty cute…”
Elijah sat down and closed the laptop. “Don’t worry about that. I remember you complaining about having class in the morning, and I definitely have to be at two jobs later on, so maybe we should get to business.”
Tony smiled before taking another drink. He was about to speak again, but Elijah lowered his sweatpants to just above his knees as he resumed stroking his half-hard cock.
“I’ll let you touch it while you finish your water, but you’re definitely deep-throating me before you leave.”
“And if I say no?”
Elijah smiled. “You won’t say no. We both know that.”
Tony moved his hand out the way and took over, slowly pumping Elijah as he tried to lean in for another kiss. He wasn’t at all surprised when Elijah leant away, but he still pouted.
“You’re going to let me kiss you one day. I know it.”
Elijah strongly doubted that. He watched the boy put the glass on the table and then lower his head into his lap. His mouth was freezing and it made his toes curl.
“I don’t kiss, Tony.”
Chapter 5
Grayson felt ridiculous.
He wished he could cancel for the simple fact that he wanted to do something… well, simple. Amo Pasta was the furthest thing from simple. He had to get dressed up – he was wearing a bowtie for crying out loud, and people who went on casual hangouts shouldn’t have to get dressed up.
But, maybe this was all because Bryce didn’t know how to do simple. He was more than likely loaded, and according to Eleanor, he’d just gotten out of something serious with another guy. “He’s not looking for something serious right now, but he does want to get out and explore,” she’d told him a couple times.
Grayson had no intentions on being anyone’s rebound. He’d be sure to make that clear tonight.
He walked down 10th Avenue and looked down at his phone. There was a text from his father telling him he was doing great with the girls’ social media. It was out of character for his father to compliment him on anything. It felt good.
Grayson had spent a good portion of his Wednesday working with The Pretty Committee – the portion of his Wednesday that he didn’t spend assisting his father’s vice president, helping him plan his business travel to the west coast and itinerary.
It wasn’t very long before he arrived at the Italian restaurant. The entrance reminded him a lot of a fancy hotel. It was beautiful, but that was exactly what he expected.
The host greeted him right away, smiling the whole time. “Good evening, Sir. Welcome to Amo Pasta.”
“Thank you.” Grayson’s palms were sweating. He knew he didn’t have to be this nervous because it wasn’t anything serious, but still. He hadn’t done anything like this in quite some time. “I’m here under a reservation for Bryce Winston.”
“Ah, Mr. Winston’s guest. Right this way.”
The host was an older gentleman, short in stature, with a British accent. That confused Grayson. He expected everyone to be super Italian. He followed the man and looked around at the other patrons – half looked like they could be regulars here; they looked as if their wallets wouldn’t be dented by attending this place regularly, while the other half looked like they may’ve been tourists interested in some New York eatery. If it were up to Grayson, he’d tell them to go to a pizzeria.
Yes, he did have a lot of money and parents who’d spoiled him rotten since the very day he was born, but none of that mattered to Grayson. Maybe that was spoken like a true person who had money, but the fact of the matter was he appreciated the simple things. At the end of the day, money didn’t make him happy. He was comfortable, but he wasn’t happy.
He took a seat where the host sat him after putting his coat on the back of the chair. It was a round table right beside a large window that faced West 16th Street. The curtains were open but the windows were tinted. Bryce hadn’t arrived yet, and Grayson wondered if he was stuck at the hospital. He’d be willing to wait like instructed, but he didn’t want to be sitting here alone for too long.
The host informed Grayson’s waiter that he was waiting for someone, and the man nodded. This guy was Italian, at least. His accent was prominent when he spoke.
“Ciao. May I start you off with something to drink while you wait for your date?”
Date. Grayson ignored that. “Ciao. I’ll take a Coke to start.”
His waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back with that.”
“Thank you.”
He checked his watch. It was a quarter to eight now. The last thing he wanted to do was be that guy that was alone in a restaurant staring at his cell phone, but there wasn’t much else to do. He pulled his phone from his pocket and rolled his eyes at his background photo. One day he’d change that picture of Oscar, because it looked ridiculous. That day wasn’t today, though.
Oscar:
Don’t forget if he’s an asshole, hate-sex is still a viable option. Stay safe.
Speak of the devil.
Grayson rolled his eyes, about to click on his Daily News app when someone sat across the table from him. Only this someone wasn’t Bryce.
It was Elijah.
∞
Elijah was proud of himself for being on time. Some days he liked to squeeze in a trip to his Midtown gym in between working at the law firm and working at the restaurant. Some days that made him a little tardy. Luckily enough, his boss, Antonio, wasn’t hard on him for it. It was probably due to the fact that Elijah was the best entertainment they had, and he didn’t ask for a lot in return.
He shouldered his guitar case as he entered Amo Pasta. The host, George, smiled at him as he always did.
“Elijah, I’ve missed you. That Willa woman has been singing the same Stevie Wonder song for the past 15 minutes. She’s been singing it terribly, might I add.”
“Hello, George,” Elijah replied, smiling as he listened in on the song. She didn’t sound that bad. “I go on at 8 and I’ll sing something just for you, bro.”
&nb
sp; “I’ll take anything by Adele,” he said without hesitation.
Elijah laughed, nodding his head. “You got it.”
He walked into the restaurant–his clothes to change into were in a duffel bag he carried beside him. There wasn’t really a need to dress up to his 9-5, but this gig, with these paying customers… yeah. It was a different story. He didn’t want to look like he just rolled out of bed.
He was on his way downstairs to the restrooms when he saw him.
Grayson Paul. And fuck did he look hot.
He pulled out his phone and it looked as if he was reading. The way he rolled his eyes sort of gave it away.
Elijah checked the time on his cell phone. It was on 2% battery life, but he could see that he had about 15 minutes before he went on stage. He debated going over and saying hello. Hello couldn’t hurt, right? And if Grayson was waiting for someone, which he most likely was, maybe he needed company.
Honestly, Elijah just wanted to know why the hell he didn’t get a text.
He shouldered the guitar, fixed his jacket, and hoped he looked decent as he walked over. Suddenly his lips felt dry. His lip balm was buried in the duffel bag. Whatever.
Elijah licked his lips and took a deep breath before sitting at the table across from Grayson. He watched him look up.
Grayson’s eyes went wide as realization set in, but he smiled right away.
“Elijah? H-Hey…” he looked around and then back at Elijah, a confused smile on his face. “What are you doing here?” His eyes went from the guitar case back to Elijah.
“Hey,” Elijah responded.
He hadn’t replied right away, because Elijah didn’t really know what else to say. There was no real thought planned out before he came over here.
“Um, I’m one of the entertainers here. A few nights a week,” he continued.
“Oh?” Grayson looked at him. “That’s amazing. You didn’t tell me you were a musician…”
Elijah pushed the hair away from his face and smiled. “I might have told you that if you actually texted me, Grayson.”
Grayson nervously bit his lip in response, not missing the way Elijah’s eyes followed the action. He stopped doing it and nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “I deserve that. I’m sorry –”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Elijah told him. “In fact, I told you to use it only if you wanted to –”
“I did,” Grayson cut in. “And that’s why I didn’t.”
The response earned him a confused look, and Grayson understood. He knew it didn’t make much sense, but it did to him.
“I don’t know how to explain it. But, I’m meeting someone here tonight and … I don’t know. I just didn’t think it would be a good idea to text you and then –”
“And then form deep feelings for me while you had a date coming up?”
Grayson smiled. “You’re such a humble guy.”
Willa started singing a new song, and Elijah could practically hear the collective sighs of relief from the patrons. He looked around to make sure his boss wasn’t coming before continuing with the conversation.
“Contrary to what you think, I would actually like to be friends. Maybe get to know you. You seemed like a nice guy.”
Grayson nodded a little. “I am nice. I’d like to think so.”
Elijah hummed. “Then text me right now.”
Grayson laughed, shaking his head. “What way is this to start a friendship? You don’t trust me.”
“Well you did say you were going to contact me and then didn’t,” Elijah said obviously. “And I just want to know if you’re serious.”
Grayson was serious. He bit his lip as he went to the messaging app, a determined look on his face.
Elijah stared at his dimple and smiled. He was cute. A second later, his phone went off with a new message.
917-555-9291:
I have a musical request.
Elijah read the text and smiled, hurrying to save his number before his phone died. “Tell me what it is, and if I play the song, it means I forgive you for making me wait two days.”
“Aw.” Grayson took a sip of his water and pouted at Elijah. “A guy actually made you wait?”
Elijah laughed. “What’s the song, Grayson?”
“I heard through the grapevine that you went back to Symphony yesterday,” Grayson said. “The coffee’s really good, huh?”
Caught, Elijah thought to himself. He remained stone-faced, rubbing over his stubble-covered face, though he was trying not to laugh. “Yeah. I went back. The coffee is great, actually.”
Grayson nodded, a knowing smirk on his lips. “The song is ‘When You Wish Upon a Star.’ The Disney song. It’s my favorite Disney song.”
Elijah wondered if he knew all the lyrics to that. He’d write them on his arm or something. “If I forgive you before my set is over, I’ll sing that.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Grayson said. “Now get up. I’m supposed to be meeting a doctor.”
That sounded about right. Grayson seemed like the type that would date a doctor. Elijah got up and smiled, holding his hand out for him to shake. “Enjoy your date. If you need me to come and save you, just rub at the nape of your neck.”
After Grayson shook his hand, Elijah gave him a demonstration, rubbing just beneath his hairline with his right hand. Grayson laughed, but nodded.
“Rub the nape of my neck. I got it.”
Elijah started to walk off. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later.” Grayson smiled and looked back down at his cell phone. The screen was still on his text to Elijah. While Elijah was the last person he expected to sit across from him tonight, he was happy it happened. Playboy or not, he was a nice guy.
It was a small world.
Elijah:
You look nice tonight, by the way. And I hope you don’t have to signal me with a neck rub. I really do hope you have a good date.
Grayson read the message and wondered if he wanted the same.
Grayson:
Thank you. Try not to suck out there tonight. I am the son of Harvey Paul after all…
Elijah:
Ha. You got it, boss.
“No way.”
Grayson looked up from the messages to see who had spoken.
Okay. Seriously. This was a really small world.
The guy in front of him right now, wearing the navy blue blazer, white button-up, and the gold handkerchief, was the same guy that Grayson had bumped into the other morning. The same morning he’d lost his phone. Doctor Bryce was the hot older guy he met on Lexington Avenue.
What were the freaking odds?
“You’re kidding me,” Grayson said with a laugh.
The host looked between the two of them curiously. Bryce laughed as well.
“Are you really the Grayson that Eleanor has been talking my ear off about? You’re the guy that almost tackled me NFL-style on Monday morning.”
“And I am still sorry about that,” Grayson said, standing up and outstretching his hand. “This is crazy. It’s nice to formally meet you, Bryce. Eleanor has said many good things.”
“She told me you were gorgeous and she didn’t lie.” Bryce held onto his hand a little longer than Grayson would’ve deemed appropriate, but he smiled politely as they pulled away. “Lovely to meet you as well.”
The host smiled at the two of them. “I’ll send your waiter right over,” he said.
“Thank you, George.”
Bryce was still hot. He may’ve gotten hotter. Grayson was especially a fan of the man’s neatly-trimmed beard, and those broad shoulders. He bet he looked great in his doctor’s coat.
They took their seats and the smiles were awkward at first. Grayson wasn’t exactly sure what one was supposed to say on a not-date at a 5-star restaurant with a hot doctor across from him.
“Uh,” Bryce began, chuckling shortly after. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been out of practice for a while.”
Grayson nodde
d. He noticed that Elijah came back upstairs, and was dressed nicely in tan pants and a soft blue button-up shirt. Elijah cleaned up nice. Grayson acknowledged he look good in both roles – the badboy in a leather jacket and the clean-cut entertainer. He tried not to pay too much attention to him and remembered that he should probably reply to the man he was here with.
“Same here,” Grayson answered. “I … I’m not the most fun, I guess. I stress out about work practically 24/7 and my best friend and Eleanor suggested that I try and hang out with someone just to take my mind off of all of that.”
Bryce nodded at him. “What is it that you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all,” Grayson said. “I work at a record label here in the city.” He tried to dumb it down. Maybe he’d say more later. “My father is the big boss so that’s stressful enough.”
“Working with your father? That must be fun.”
“Hardly.”
Bryce smiled.
The waiter came over and took their orders. As his not-date told him what kind of wine he wanted, Grayson looked up at Elijah taking the stage. He sat on a stool and tuned his guitar.
“And he’ll have the same,” Bryce said, handing both of their menus over.
Grayson watched the waiter nod and then walk off.
Wait, did this guy just order for him?
“You’ll love the ravioli,” Bryce said, smiling as he adjusted himself in the seat. “It’s the best in the city.”
He nodded. “I wanted to try the fettucine…”
“Trust me,” Bryce said.
Was it too early to rub the nape of his neck?
“My name is Elijah Dawson and I’ll be your entertainment for the next hour.”
Bryce looked up at the stage momentarily, lost interest, and then turned back to Grayson. “So how’d you meet Eleanor?”
Grayson wanted to reply. He really did. But Elijah started to sing.
Wow.
Elijah could really sing.
It was a slowed-down version of “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson. He slowly strummed at his guitar and sang with a soulful voice that Grayson would never think the guy had.
Bryce smiled at him. “Hey. Earth to Gray.”
Something Real Page 7
