Page 17 of Gunpowder

“Between gossiping staff and patients coming in after a street fight, I’ve heard enough to know who leads Incindious. I saw the tattoo when I came to the apartment. Unless I’m wrong about that being your gang’s seal on your chest, that is.” Wren dropped his menu on the table. “But we both know how often I’m wrong.”

Blair flushed at the memory of Wren staring at his chest that night—he’d like to take Wren’s words as a comfort that he’d only been looking at Blair’s tattoo, but Wren had looked a few times too many for that to be the only reason.

The waitress returned to take their orders. She didn’t ask for Blair’s since he always got the same thing, giving him a moment to study Wren while he ordered. There was no sign of either disdain or interest when Wren talked about the gang. He seemed indifferent, but he always seemed that way and surely that wasn’t the case all the time. Blair didn’t realize his hand had gone unconsciously to his chest until his fingers curled around the edge of his tank top, brushing against his tattoo.

“I guess this is weird for you, then. Doctors are all about ‘first do no harm,’ right?”

Wren raised his bare shoulder in a shrug. “I’m only doing this to shut my father up. He paid for all of it so I could have a ‘lucrative career worthy of a Masters.’” He echoed the last words with the flatness of someone who had heard them many times.

There were people that spiraled into debt trying to get through college but Blair held his tongue since this was the closest he’d gotten to a real conversation yet. It wasn’t much of a thank you dinner if he called Wren an entitled brat. Which reminded him, “So Masters is your last name. Do you get to go by Doctor yet?”

He clicked his tongue. “I don’t care one way or the other about the formalities. It’s just Wren.”

“Wren,” Blair repeated, and Wren’s lips curled into a smirk.

“I like the way you say my name.”

The words, said as slow and soft as a promise, sent a chill down his spine.

Blair looked down at his drink but he could feel Wren’s eyes on him and fumbled for a change of subject. “My stepdad brought Tristan in, right?”

“Yes, he’s on antibiotics and a fluid drip. He asked for paper and markers and hasn’t bothered me since.”

Blair laughed. That sounded about right; Tristan had always loved to draw.

The waitress brought their food and gave Blair a moment to collect himself. Maybe it was the lemongrass candles burning atop the partitions between tables, or the roll-up bamboo blinds drawn over every other window, but Hao Chi felt too warm and cozy to be an all-hours Chinese joint in the heart of Flushing. He could also attribute it to the yellow light coming from the lanterns above them that was just dim enough to soften everything it touched, or if Blair was being honest, it could just be the way he reacted to Wren that was making the space feel so much more intimate than it should.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Blair asked, pinching a piece of chicken between his chopsticks.

“No.” Wren’s voice became oddly quiet. “It was just me.”

Yeah, you give off only child vibes, Blair thought, but the faraway look in Wren’s eyes made him think the comment was best kept to himself. “What do you do when you’re not at the hospital? Or school?”

“That… pretty much covers it.”

“That’s fuckin’ depressing, Wren. You gotta live a little sometimes.”

“I don’t have time.”

Blair grinned. “You made time for me.”

Wren clicked his tongue and returned his attention to his lo mein, but Blair still felt like he won.

By the time they finished eating, Wren looked to be on the verge of falling asleep at the table, so Blair caught the waitress’ attention the next time he saw her and passed her his card.

“I should let you get home and rest. Thanks for coming out, though. And thanks for everything.” He took his card back when the waitress returned and stuck it in his wallet.

Blair reached for his crutches and Wren stood up. Even though Blair was expecting it, his heart still beat a little faster when Wren entered his space to hold his crutches steady. Blair laughed nervously. “Guess there’s a little bit of doctor in you, after all.”

Once he got situated on the crutches, it was a long moment before Wren let go. Their proximity forced Blair to tilt his head back to look up. Wren’s eyes were roaming his face in a way that made him feel dissected. “Did you drive?” Wren asked.

“I’m not quite up to that yet,” Blair said, his gaze falling to the exposed edge of Wren’s collarbone, somehow finding even that innocuous part of his body attractive.

“I didn’t think so. I’ll take you home.”

Blair had every intention to say no because his apartment was only a couple blocks away, but he still found himself following Wren out to his car. The space inside felt too small. Last time he was in the Audi, he’d been with Tristan and his mind had been preoccupied with his brother’s safety. Now they were alone, in a car that smelled of leather and coffee, and the pleasant clean scent that always seemed to linger on Wren.

“That’s the bar where Incindious always hangs around, then,” Wren noted, looking at the bar across the street.

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