Page 31 of Key Change

Cillian stoodat a table near the door of the bar, waiting for Anthony. He was late, but he hadn’t messaged to say he wasn’t coming. If he didn’t show without saying anything, this—whatever it was—was over. Cillian hated being stood up.

His fingers tapped on the tabletop.

He glanced around, unsure who was there for the show and who was there for drinks, but if he made an effort, he’d find someone to talk to. Some of Bevan’s other friends must be coming.

Cillian took a sip of his beer, annoyed with himself for being annoyed in the first place. They weren’t serious. They weren’t anything, so it shouldn’t matter. He hated that he wanted more because everything about the situation was messy.

Then Anthony walked through the door in a black shirt and jeans, and Cillian had to force himself to blink and breathe. He was so fucking hot; it was a damn shame they couldn’t go home now.

No. He could not drag Anthony into bed until he’d told him the truth.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic and poor planning…” Anthony stepped in, his hand brushed over Cillian’s lower back, before pausing.

Cillian leaned in and tilted his head, trusting Anthony to keep the kiss he obviously wanted appropriate. Which he did with the most disappointing brush of his lips over Cillian’s mouth, one that left him hungry for more. “It doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Do you want a drink?”

“I’d love one… Do you want another?”

“Sure.” The one in his hands was halfway gone anyway. He walked to the bar with Anthony, finishing his drink as he went. “Busy day?”

“The usual. A run and job applications, trying not to lose my mind.” He laughed, but it sounded tight. “You?”

“Chaos. The next two weeks I’m playing, so if you want to catch me, lunch will be best.”

“Artist hours?”

“Yeah. Late to bed, late to rise. Not a brush off.”

Anthony smiled, his eyes softened and then narrowed. “What happened with the soundtrack thing?”

Cillian grinned. “Got it. It’ll be a full week of rehearsal and recording.” There would be a lot of jugging over the next two months, but he wasn’t about to turn work down. When the tap was on, he was drinking.

“Well done.” Anthony leaned over and kissed his temple. His hand lingered on Cillian’s lower back as they waited for their drinks. The pose felt natural, like they’d stood in this exact way many times before.

“What about you?”

“No bites. It’s harder than I expected. Next week I have to do an interview prep class, as if I don’t know how to do that.”

“If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.”

Anthony stepped up to the bar. “What are you drinking?”

Cillian pointed to one of the taps. It was low carb, low strength.

“Two of them, thanks.” Anthony pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

“I can—” He didn’t want Anthony wasting what he had on buying him drinks.

“It’s one beer. I’ve got this.” From the look on his face. It wasn’t about the beer. He didn’t want to be dependent.

Cillian didn’t argue. It was one beer, and he’d buy the next ones. He put his empty on the bar and picked up the fresh one. “Come on, the door should be open.”

“I didn’t even realize there was a gallery here.”

“It’s through the back, one of those small spaces for emerging artists. I saw a play here about six months ago.”

“More free tickets?”

“No. I only got free tickets tonight because Bevan is a uni friend.” He gave his name at the door and was allowed through. Last time, the area had been filled with chairs. This time there were photos and paintings on all the walls, and extra walls had been set up to display more works.

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