There was passion in Darren, burning just below the surface. Chance had felt it when they’d touched. But weeks went by, and the fantasies grew less vivid as he realized Darren wasn’t going to call.
A few times, he considered looking Darren up, but he wasn’t a stalker. If Darren wanted more, he’d have to make a move. But what if he was…
No. No way in hell was Darren scared.
Though he had said rejection was his biggest fear. But why on earth would he think Chance would reject him?
You’re seventeen years younger than him.
But I gave him my card, and I made it clear I liked older men.
Just forget about him.
Chance tried. He really did. He could only hope that eventually he’d succeed.
CHAPTER THREE
Darren thought about Chance every day. Every hour? Every time he jerked off. But he didn’t give in to the temptation to call. He didn’t want something casual with Chance, and starting a relationship with a student was the last thing he needed. Besides, he’d given up on relationships years ago.
January became February and then March, and Darren dragged himself to one fundraising event after another, thrilled to be helping causes he cared about, but otherwise feeling like his life had become unbearably monotonous. He wasn’t pining for Chance exactly. The young man no longer starred in all Darren’s fantasies; he was more of an occasional treat. No, it wasn’t Chance specifically that had him down, but what connecting with Chance had made him realize: he was very much alone.
Of course, he’d done nothing to remedy the problem; though plenty of people at the office offered to set him up with someone, he politely declined, not wanting to disappoint them when the blind date didn’t work out. It wouldn’t. They never did. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends—acquaintances—and a plethora of social opportunities with all the dinners, auctions, and fundraisers he hosted. Besides, he worked too much to have time to go out with anyone, and he enjoyed his work, making the world a better place.
The world wouldn’t collapse if you took a few days off.
True.
He glanced in the mirror, making sure his bow tie was straight. He was one of the hosts for an auction which would raise money for a local LGBT center. The center offered counseling, space for meetings, a library, career guidance, and other services for LGBT youth and adults in the area. Of all the charities Darren’s foundation supported, this was the one he felt most passionate about. He usually enjoyed his role as host for the evening, walking through the crowd, encouraging people to purchase the items in the silent auction, then explaining some of the live-auction items to the attendees once they were seated for dinner. This year, he’d simply have to fake his usual cheer. The center needed these donations, and no matter how blue he felt, he was going to give them his best.
Roger, the boxer he’d adopted a few years ago, snuffled at his leg, and Darren reached down to scratch his ear. “You make me happy. Even if nothing else does right now.”
Roger barked as if understanding him and then dropped a slobber-coated tennis ball on the floor beside him. Darren thought he’d hidden it, but apparently his hiding place had been discovered. Now Roger would expect him to play, which would be disastrous for his tux.
He tried to ignore the ball, but Roger pushed it toward him with his nose.
“Rogerrrr.”
The dog turned his big brown eyes on Darren, and he gave in.
Trying to keep the ball far away from his clothing, he tossed it down the hall. Roger galloped after it, sliding past and then scrambling to turn around. Darren couldn’t help laughing at the big goof. He wished he had time to take Roger down to the beach, but while he might risk dog slobber, he wasn’t going to get sand on his tux—or in his shoes or his hair—before the auction.
After a few more throws, Darren managed to distract Roger and hide the ball. Then he made a nest on the couch with Roger’s favorite blankets, and the dog hopped up, turned around a few times, and then settled in a doggie circle.
“Good boy! I’ll be back later.”
Roger gave a loud sigh and dramatically laid his head down on his paws, clearly trying to guilt Darren into staying home.
“It’s for a good cause, boy,” he said. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and left.
***
Chance looked in the mirror one more time. Maybe he should go with the silver tie.
“The Lyft’s almost here. You coming?” Joon, his roommate, stuck his head into Chance’s room.
“Yeah, I’m just not sure about this.” He frowned at his reflection. The rainbow tie was definitely too much. He started to take it off.
“The damn tie is fine. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure? It’s supposed to be semi-formal.”
“It’s also supposed to be gay.” Joon certainly looked the part in a pink vest and a sequined tie. Maybe Chance was okay after all.
“Fine. I’m ready.” He followed Joon out the door.
“So they have this auction every year?” he asked Joon as they settled into the back seat of the car.
“Right. It’s the biggest fundraiser of the year for the center. It’s a little stuffy because of all the old people with money, but since Marianne’s professor is on the board, we went last year.”
Marianne and Joon had met at an LGBT mixer and become best friends. Chance adored them both and was happy to do his part to support the center even if it meant dressing up and being a little bored. “I’m just thrilled we have an LGBT center here that provides so many services.”
Joon nodded. “The board members have worked really hard to get grants and keep money coming in all year from donors. And Mr. Walsh, who usually hosts the auction and who is fucking hot. He’d make someone a hell of a daddy.”
Chance grinned. “I hope he’s there tonight.”
“Me too.”
They arrived a few moments later, paid the driver, and climbed the steps to the Strider Center, a popular catering venue.
When they checked in, they were given a code for the app where they could bid on the silent-auction items, programs for the live action, and a table number for dinner. Joon had arranged for them to sit with Marianne, her advisor, and a few other people from her department.
Once they’d left their materials at their seats, Chance and Joon walked around, checking out the auction items. Chance saw a few pieces of art he’d love to win. But his favorite of all the items up for bid was a wiggly Golden Retriever puppy.
“He’s so sweet.”
Joon laughed. “And he’d be so much trouble.”
“I know we don’t really have time for a puppy, but I really, really want one.”
“You really, really can’t afford him. They auction off a puppy every year, and I hear they’ve gone for as much as $20,000.”
“No shit?”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s crazy. I mean, it’s great for the center to get all that money, but—”
Chance’s attention was arrested by a craft-beer assortment. He was considering putting in a bid when Joon tapped his arm.
“There he is.”
Chance frowned as he examined a bourbon barrel ale from a brewery he hadn’t heard of. “Who?”
“The hot daddy who emcees the thing.”
Chance looked in the direction Joon was pointing, and froze. For a moment the edges of his vision went fuzzy and a spotlight seemed to shine on the man. His mind tried to tell him he was seeing things, but he wasn’t. It was Darren.
“Chance? You okay? I know he’s hot, but I didn’t think you were going to swoon or some shit.”
“Sorry.” Chance forced himself to look away. “I was…um…lost in thought.”
“Lost in thoughts of fucking him.”
Chance punched his arm. “Shut up.”
“Seriously, dude. That was quite a reaction.”
“I know him.” Fuck. Why did he say that?
“Really?” Joon l
ooked way too interested.
“Not well or anything, but he sat next to me on the flight back from Houston a few months ago.”
“And you didn’t even tell me about him. Damn, I’m not telling you about all the hotties at the coffee shop anymore.”
Joon worked part-time at a coffee shop down the street from their apartment building, but from what Chance could tell, it was more of an opportunity to hit on guys than a way to make money.
“Forgive me. I promise to confess immediately next time I’m seated next to a sex god.”
Joon narrowed his eyes. “You better. Now tell me what he’s like.”
Chance shrugged. “We really didn’t talk that much.” He normally told Joon everything, but what he’d shared with Darren felt too special for idle gossip.
“No making out in those big, first-class seats?”
“None.”
“They recline all the way, don’t they? What a waste.”
Chance rolled his eyes. “I think the other passengers would have been a little disturbed if we’d tried that.”
Joon stared openly at Darren for a few seconds, and Chance had to bite his lip to keep from telling him to stop. Like he had any claim to Darren.
“He seems like the kind of man who does what he wants and gets away with it,” Joon said.
On the surface, he did, but Chance has seen something else—a man who needed someone to listen to him. Chance wished he could have been that someone for longer than the length of a flight.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure that extends to a blowjob under an airline blanket.”
Joon laughed. “Least you could have done was find out. I would have.”
“You’re going to get arrested one day.”
“I just hope it’s for someone who’s worth it.” He leaned in, bumping Chance’s shoulder. “Go talk to him.”
“What? No.” Chance’s heart sped up. Did he dare? He sure as hell wanted to, but if Darren had wanted to talk to him again, he would have called, right?
“Why not? You’re obviously into him.”
Chance shook his head. “I didn’t come here to look for a hookup.”
“Oh, please,” Joon snorted. “Who would turn that man down?”
“Really, that’s not—”
“Then introduce me.”
Chance stiffened.
“Uh-huh. You want him for yourself.”
“He’s busy,” Chance said, desperate for an excuse Joon would buy. “He’s got emcee duties.”
“Then ask him to dance after dinner,” Joon insisted.
“There’s dancing?”
“Yeah, didn’t I tell you that?”
Had he? Chance had been distracted all week, trying to meet a research deadline. So when Joon had told him about the charity auction, Chance had given in to his not-so-gentle cajoling to join him without listening to the details.
“We’ll have dinner, then the live auction, and then dancing.”
Chance frowned. “Okay. Maybe.”
“If you don’t ask him, I will.”
Joon wasn’t going to let this go.
Chance managed to avoid Darren prior to dinner, though he did indulge in some intense staring, and once he thought Darren saw him before he looked away. If he did, he made no move to approach; hell, for all Chance knew, the man wouldn’t even recognize him.
Once it was time to head to their seats for dinner, Chance stopped worrying he’d have to do the awkward “Remember me from the flight a few months ago? I’m the man you charmed and never called” thing.
Marianne was working on a PhD in Women and Gender Studies, and it was her professor, Dr. Creston, whose name was on the table. The tables were set up in two tiers around the stage where the auctioneer would be, and Chance’s group was on the lower level not far from the center.
Chance had never met Dr. Creston or any of the other students, but he found them all easy to talk to. He jumped right into their conversation on media representation of asexuality and kept himself engaged through dinner.
A server stopped by the table to take their orders for dessert. “Tiramisu or coconut cake?” he asked.
“Coconut cake.” Chance doubted it would be anywhere near as good as his mom’s, but it was his favorite dessert.
“Would you care for coffee or hot tea?”
“Irish coffee?” Chance asked.
“Of course, sir.”
Joon made the same order, and the server departed a few moments later. Chance started to ask Marianne’s friend Delaney about her research focus when they were interrupted.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
Chance sucked in his breath. That voice. It was Darren.
“It’s your guy.” Joon slapped at his arm.
Chance glared at him.
“You know Mr. Walsh?” Marianne asked.
“Not really. I recognize him because we sat together on a flight a few months ago.”
“He’s hot, isn’t he?”
Was everyone into Darren?
“Honey, he’s totally gay,” Joon said before Chance could come up with a response.
“He could be bi. You can’t know—”
“A person’s sexuality unless they tell you. Yes, I know, but—”
“Joon Kim, don’t you crush my dreams.”
“He’s just being territorial,” Chance said. “It’s best to ignore him when he’s like this.”
Joon huffed, but Marianne laughed so loudly, people at the next table turned to look at them.
Chance had missed the rest of what Darren was saying; likely it was just something about how the auction worked.
He’d bid on a few paintings and the beer and lost them all, so he doubted he was in the right league to bid on any of the live items. It would be fun to watch as people went a little nuts overbidding, though, especially now that a lot of the attendees were well on their way to smashed. Having an open bar was genius. Whoever put this event together really knew what they were doing.
The server returned with their cake and Irish coffee. He also asked if anyone wanted another drink, then let them know that while table service was ending soon, the bars would remain open.
“See why I didn’t want to drive?” Joon asked.
Chance sure did. He’d lost track of how many drinks he’d had, which was especially bad with Darren in the room, not that it would stop him from drinking his Irish coffee.
Joon asked for another Cosmo and two of the women requested another bottle of Prosecco. Then everyone shifted their chairs so they were facing the stage.
Chance hesitated before turning around, because he knew how hard it was going to be not to stare. Eventually, he had to give in, reposition himself, and take in the glorious sight of Darren in a tux. It looked like it was made to fit him. Of course, a man who owned suits like the one he’d seen Darren wear probably had his tux custom made. He’d gone with a classic look: black coat with black vest and crisp black bow tie. It might have been 1935, 1968, or 2018. Darren would be gorgeous and perfectly dressed in any year.
Chance tried to make himself look away, taking a few moments to study the auctioneer. He was an attractive man, tall, blond, also wearing a tux, though he’d gone with a red cummerbund rather than a vest. In no time, Chance was staring at Darren again, appreciating his lean build, the way his pants fit snugly enough to show the muscles of his thighs, the way his hair was even thicker than Chance had remembered. God, how he wanted to run his hands through it.
Eventually Chance resorted to counting the lights strung along the poles delineating the stage from the area which would become the dance floor later. When his gaze drifted back to the stage, Darren was looking right at him, and there was no question he recognized Chance, because he stumbled over his words and paused. They stared at each other for what was probably less than a second, but it felt like one of those stop-time-and-play-“Careless Whisper” moments in a rom-com.
Suddenly Darren was talking again, though Chance had
no idea what he was saying.
“So you barely talked, huh?” Joon asked, leaning in so he could whisper.
“Don’t start. Please.”
Joon rarely listened, but he must’ve heard the desperation in Chance’s voice, because he sat back and left him alone.
Fortunately for Chance’s sanity, Darren ceded the stage to the auctioneer a few moments after that lightning-bolt moment, and Chance made it through the auction without any further incidents. This year, the puppy went for ten thousand, and most of the other items were equally out of Chance’s reach. There was an opportunity for people to donate to the Center’s fund to hire another full-time employee. Chance, Joon, and Marianne all raised their paddles for one of the lower tiers of support.
When the live auction ended, the band came out to warm up. Chance and his companions rose so the tables could be moved away to make room for dancing. Judging by the song snippets he heard, the music would be quite varied—a little old-school rock, some blues, and a bit of big band as well.
As soon as the dancing got underway, Joon swept Marianne onto the dance floor, and a woman Chance had seen at a neighboring table asked Dr. Creston to dance. She blushed deeply and then accepted. Watching the two of them made Chance smile as he stood to the side, debating whether to call himself a ride. Joon would tease him mercilessly about not dancing with Darren, but that was better than—
“May I have this dance?” Darren stood in front of him, looking devastatingly gorgeous.
“Y-you want to dance?”
Darren nodded.
“With me?” Could he sound like any more of an idiot?
“Yes, unless…”
Chance frowned. “Unless what?”
“Unless that’s one of the secret fears we never discussed.”
Chance’s breath caught. Darren remembered. “No. No fear of dancing, but—”
“Forgive me for not calling. It was wrong of me. I wanted to, just as much as I want to dance with you now.”
Wow, a man who simply admitted he was wrong. That was something everyone needed in their life.
“Yes.”
A Chance at Love Page 3
