String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  Jax cocked his head and poured a beer and a water. He handed the beer over.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why hold your tongue around white boys?”

  “Oh, Ari mentioned he was seeing someone. He was pretty vague on details, but that came up.”

  “Ah.” Jax’s stomach churned. Why would Ari mention that? Unless it was to explain why Sohrab—whose skin suggested he too had Middle Eastern heritage—was an acceptable choice and Jax was not.

  Sohrab sipped his beer, licked his lips, and said, “Anyway, it was nice to actually meet the guy that’s got Ari so… gaga.”

  “Gaga?”

  Sohrab chuckled. “He’s crazy about you. I never stood a chance. Anyway, I’ll let you….” He lifted his beer in salute and slipped away.

  Jax gave a distracted goodbye and tried to focus on drink orders before he had to head back on stage. So a stranger thought Ari was gaga for him, but Ari’s parents didn’t know about him. Or didn’t think Ari was gaga enough to not leave Jax—

  Fuck. Jax needed more music to get himself out of his head.

  It was going to be a long night—and a long week until Ari returned.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ARI DID his best to remember to text Jax often throughout the day. He might hate texting, but he was learning that Jax appreciated it. So Ari sent him pictures of his food, the view from the hotel room, and the ridiculous bathroom in it—Jax offered to drive over to help him test the tub and even added a splash emoji—and he tried to send updates about his progress when he could.

  I hate meetings with advertisers.

  ?? they trying to sell you stuff?

  No. Trying to sell me.

  HAH! I wanna make so many sex-worker jokes I don’t know where to start. Also that’s kind of dehumanizing and I feel bad now.

  I just had to sit through an hour-long meeting with executives asking questions about my unfinished album so they can make “marketing plans.”

  Aww, poor baby! The suits are so mean to make artists think about business. Is all that left-brained thinking hurting you?

  The idea that left half of the brain is reasonable and the right creative is a ridiculous myth and I’m ashamed of you for indulging in it.

  1. I know it’s a myth. 2. It’s a metaphor.

  Not a very good one.

  3. I have listened to your music and know it’s not even a good metaphor to describe your process. 4. Stop sulking.

  The long text chains created by Jax’s talkative nature couldn’t compare to actual conversation, but since their work schedules were incompatible and the “suits” kept Ari busy until well after dinner, they could never find the time for a phone call.

  Ari threw himself into his work as a distraction and to ensure he wouldn’t be asked to stay longer.

  “What do you think?” Aiden asked as the music faded on the latest cut of “Alice.” They’d spent the past two hours rehearsing and recording. Aiden was young and eager. He had introduced himself the first morning with a bright smile and, “Thanks. I was so honored when your people called and said you wanted me. Getting pulled for one of your songs is a bit of a coup. I hope I do it justice.”

  He was easy to work with—listened attentively to everything Ari said and offered thoughtful suggestions.

  “I’m not sure. What do you think of that second bridge?”

  “Too fast, right?” Aiden nodded.

  “Yes. That second line needs to be—”

  “Half a beat slower.” Aiden smiled, stood, and trotted back into the studio.

  Ari pulled out his phone and texted Jax. Making progress. I think I’ll actually get out of this city on Sunday as promised.

  When Aiden left, it was with Ari’s number and an agreement to talk more collaboration in the future. Ari was pretty sure he’d take the kid up on the offer. He thought Jax might like to meet him if they were ever in Toronto together. Jax would probably appreciate the kid’s style.

  On Sunday Ari threw his things in a bag and almost bolted out of the hotel. Once comfortably ensconced in the back seat and on the 401, Ari pulled out his phone and messaged Jax.

  On my way. Should be home within 3 hours. Want to do lunch?

  I could.

  Great. Come to mine? I want you to myself.

  Sure.

  Ari puzzled at his phone. Perhaps Jax was busy.

  At home, Ari eyed the contents of his fridge and sniffed a dubious-looking container. Then he called in an order at his favorite Greek place. He could do with some comfort food after the past week, especially comfort food that came without disappointed parents.

  Jax was a beautiful sight for sore eyes, and Ari didn’t curb the impulse to wrap him in his arms and kiss him thoroughly.

  “Hi to you too,” Jax gasped when Ari finally pulled away.

  Ari blinked. “Did I forget to say hello?” He couldn’t keep his hands from slipping under Jax’s coat, then another layer deeper until he could rub his thumbs up and down the lines of Jax’s iliac crest.

  Jax licked slightly swollen red lips and said, “You know what? We can skip the pleasantries this once,” and let Ari drag him further inside.

  Everything was that much righter with Jax pressed against the bedroom door, panting as Ari dismantled him with his mouth. “Fuck,” Jax said as he squirmed against Ari’s hands and reflexively tried to push his cock deeper. “I guess you missed me too.”

  That was such an obvious fact it didn’t bear commenting, especially when Ari’s tongue was busy. He flicked his gaze up to Jax’s face—flushed, pupils blown, sweat trickling down his temple because he still had his coat on—and pointedly rolled his eyes.

  Then he relaxed his throat and enveloped him to the base.

  “Fuck.” Jax slammed his head back against the door. Ari reveled in it, in the taste and feel of him, but mostly in how easily he came apart under Ari’s touch. “Ari, I’m—”

  Ari pressed his fingers behind his balls, and that was it. Jax made a sharp, high noise without any vowels and came in his mouth, his thighs shaking.

  He thought he’d have at least thirty seconds while Jax recovered, but apparently he’d underestimated Jax, because he’d barely wiped his mouth when Jax sank to his knees beside him and pushed him onto his back on the floor. He was about to protest that the bed was three feet away, but Jax already had his jeans open and really, this wasn’t going to take long.

  Ari really had missed him.

  An embarrassingly small number of minutes later, Jax rolled his head off Ari’s lap and lay next to him on the floor. “Hi, Jax. Nice to see you, Jax. How was your week? Couldn’t stop thinking about you, Jax.”

  Ari huffed, duly chastised. “Hello, Jax. I missed you.” He turned his head to look at him, but Jax was staring up at the ceiling. He had a streak of come on the corner of his mouth. “How was your week?”

  Jax took a few breaths—enough that Ari started to tense, worried something was wrong. Although what could be wrong? Surely if something were bothering him, he wouldn’t have responded so eagerly when Ari jumped him.

  But maybe that was the problem? Jax had said he often had difficulty keeping his partners on the same page with him, relationship-wise. Had Ari made him feel used?

  Before he could spiral too far into a panic, Jax took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. “Long,” he said finally as he turned to look at Ari. The muscle at the corner of his jaw was bunched. “My week was long. Kind of lonely.”

  Ari turned onto his side so he could reach for Jax’s hand and lace their fingers together. “I’m sorry.” He wished Jax could have come along.

  Jax looked at their tangled hands and swallowed. Then he looked up. Whatever he was holding back, it was still bothering him, and it had something to do with Ari.

  Why didn’t he say something?

  On the other hand, why couldn’t Ari just ask? He cleared his throat. “Is something the matter?”

  Jax bit his lip, then shook his head. This time the tensio
n in his body seemed to melt away for real. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking.”

  Thinking hard enough for a small crease to form between his eyebrows, which Ari reached up to smooth away. “About?”

  Jax captured his hand again, but he didn’t interlace their fingers, just held it loosely between their bodies. “Well, you met Alice. And Sam’s been asking about you. I thought maybe we could do lunch sometime? Just the three of us, I mean. Well, we could ask George and Alice too, but that’s logistically more challenging.”

  Was Jax worried Ari wouldn’t want to meet his sister? “I would love to,” he said honestly. “We could make something here, or would it be better to go out?” Would Sam like him? Did they need to be on neutral ground, just in case?

  Something flashed across Jax’s face, but it was gone before Ari could catalog it, never mind decipher it. “She’ll probably want to cook for us, but we should talk her out of it. She doesn’t get out for a lot of socializing. Perils of being a working mom.”

  “I understand.” Ari pulled Jax’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “You’ll ask her and let me know when she’s free? I don’t have anything scheduled this week, so my time is yours.”

  Especially since he was up against the wall again with writer’s block. Having Jax around more often could only be good for his creative process.

  He hoped.

  “Are you sure?” Jax asked. “You were gone for a week. You don’t need to go see your parents or anything?”

  “Well, we do have standing dinner plans on Saturdays.” A truly absurd time to have a commitment with one’s parents when one was dating conventionally, but it didn’t matter to Ari since Jax wasn’t available anyway. “But no, I don’t need to make a special effort to see them during the week. It’s… actually, it may be better if I stay away until the weekend.”

  Now Jax was frowning again. “What? Why?”

  Ari pursed his lips and debated how to phrase it delicately. “My parents… are supportive of me to a point. They’re proud of me. But I think they think that I should give up touring and stay in London to take care of them until—” Until they die. But that was too morbid to say out loud.

  “And you don’t want to do that,” Jax filled in. That shadow in his eyes was back, the tension in his face.

  “I can’t do that,” Ari corrected. “Music—not just writing it but performing live, especially my own music, for an audience—is cathartic for me. It helps me process things. It might seem trivial, but I need it.”

  “That doesn’t sound trivial to me.” The squeeze of his hand and the light in his eyes said he understood. Ari wondered if Jax felt the same about singing… or math. “Have they been pushing you lately?”

  Ari sighed. “Yes. They had me at home for a long time when I couldn’t tour. And when my father got sick, I was around even more to look after them. I think they hoped it might be the”—he smirked unhappily—“‘new normal.’ But I can’t go back to that. I… barely wrote the entire time.”

  It was Jax’s turn to offer understanding affection. He looped Ari’s arm around his shoulder and rested his head on Ari’s. “They don’t want you to leave again.”

  “They do not. And our visits have become… fractious.”

  Jax snorted. “Big word.”

  Ari hummed and buried his face in Jax’s hair. His ass was starting to hurt sitting on the floor, but he didn’t want to move yet.

  On the other hand, while he couldn’t give up touring, spending four and a half days apart from Jax was a terrible idea. He would do whatever he could to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  THE PROBLEM with fishing, Jax reflected, was that if you came home without catching anything, you couldn’t be certain if that was because the fish just missed you, if the fish was wily and escaped you, or if there were no fish to begin with.

  Ari had effectively dodged the conversation about family introductions, leaving Jax no further ahead.

  Another long week followed. Jax had spent the past month using Ari as a distraction from the stresses of extra work hours and time spent reviewing this thesis project. But hiding from stress was difficult when Jax couldn’t stop worrying that, despite what he’d said, Ari wasn’t taking their relationship seriously.

  Not that Jax denied himself Ari’s company. They slept together and then fell asleep and actually slept together several nights. He tried not to read anything into Ari’s actions, tried not to spend their time together watching. Ari was sweet and attentive as ever. On Wednesday they met up with Sam for lunch. At Jax’s insistence, they took her out. At Ari’s, they went to a trendy bistro where he picked up the tab.

  As expected, Sam and Ari got on almost distressingly well. Sam teased Ari for wooing Jax with his violin. Ari cocked his head and said, “I see the family resemblance. And Jax did most of the wooing. With his piano.” When Sam laughed, announced that she liked him, and demanded to know everything about him, Ari obliged with a charming grin.

  It was unfair of Ari to charm Jax’s sister so well when he wouldn’t even talk about his parents in the context of his relationship with Jax.

  On Thursday, after a night spent in his own bed because Ari had an early meeting and couldn’t wait up for Jax to get home, Jax baked five dozen muffins. The only upside to his baking freak-out was that Hobbes didn’t show up to ask questions, though Jax did wonder where his friend had been lately. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth—Hobbes hadn’t had the chance to grill Jax about Sohrab’s blind-date bomb, and at this rate, Jax could hopefully put him off until the New Year when he left for Cambridge. Or at least until Jax got up the courage to ask Ari about it himself.

  He packed up two dozen muffins for his sister—she wouldn’t say no to free food that Alice would eat—and brought another dozen to Ari so as to leave less incriminating evidence.

  He spent the rest of the week planning and fretting about the date. Jax wanted everything to be perfect and tried not to think too much about why he was so desperate for the evening to be so romantic.

  On Sunday Ari arrived at the bar at seven as requested and texted Jax that he was just outside.

  Jax nervously checked the setup one last time and then hurried to unlock the door. Ari’s hair was tied back, and he was dressed—fuck—in those sinful black jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Jax tried not to drool at the sight of those forearms, which looked just as lovely when pining Jax to the bed. Or the wall. Or the floor.

  Ari smiled and stepped in close to kiss him hello. “Why are we meeting here when it’s closed?” he asked when he finally pulled away. “You’ve been very secretive.”

  Jax grinned. “Maybe a little. But I wanted to cook up a surprise.” He stepped farther inside and waved toward the bar top, set for two. “I thought we could have dinner together in the place where we first met.”

  Ari’s expression went soft, and he cleared his throat. “Technically, we first met in the break room.”

  “Shut up,” Jax laughed. “We’re not eating there; it smells like fart. Besides, the bar is where we had our first real conversation and where you let me mix you drinks. Now come on.” He grabbed Ari’s hand, determined to make the night perfect.

  At the bar Ari settled into a seat, and Jax pulled over some appetizers. He’d put his day off to good use, made the stuffed prosciutto-wrapped dates himself, and had more food waiting at the bar. Their entrees were in the kitchen so they could stay warm.

  Jax poured them both half glasses of wine to sip. “I might not be chef at one of the best restaurants in town—”

  “Jax.”

  “—but I’m not without skills when it comes to making dinner and finding wine pairings.”

  Ari bit into a date and made a noise of delight. Then he washed it down with a sip of wine—and made a face like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

  Uh-oh. “Not a good wine pairing?” Jax asked, heart sinking.

  Ari eventually swallowed his mouthfu
l, then picked up the bottle and examined the label. “This is usually a good bottle, but….” He sniffed the neck, then winced and held it out for Jax.

  Dutifully, Jax took a whiff. “Oh. Wine shouldn’t smell like that.”

  “Perhaps the cork shriveled and let air in the bottle.”

  That would explain the vinegar bouquet. “Sorry,” Jax said, trying not to let on how upset he was. He wanted tonight to go perfectly—he’d needed it to go perfectly so he could finally get an angle on the question, “Hey, Ari, when am I going to meet your parents?” Which was really just a cover for “Hey, Ari, do you promise you’re really serious about us?” Now it seemed like the prospect was doomed from the get-go. “I’d offer to make you something else, but….” He gestured to the liquor shelf, which was kept under a locked gate when the bar wasn’t open.

  Why couldn’t Jax do anything right? Murph would’ve given him the key for that if he’d asked. Jax could have paid for anything they used.

  “Jax.” Ari’s hand covered his. “It’s only a bottle of wine—a drink you can only partake of in limited quantities anyway.”

  Jax allowed himself to be comforted. Still— “I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

  “If I required alcohol to enjoy spending time in your company, I would not do it.”

  Smooth talker. Jax had no choice but to let it go. “All right, you make a valid point. Flatterer.” They could have a nice meal without alcohol.

  Ari smiled, and Jax’s tension disintegrated further. “I have my moments.”

  They made do with sparkling water, and Jax tried to relax into the conversation, catching up on what they hadn’t managed to talk about over the week.

  The problem was that after a while, all Jax’s musician-bartender stories started to sound the same. Ari knew all his coworkers, so there wasn’t much Jax could tell him about them. And Jax was still puzzling out how to work so I met the guy your parents set you up on a blind date with into conversation without it sounding accusatory. Probably because it was accusatory.