Page 17 of Before They Were Lovers

Day had been so worried about God’s reaction to his date that he’d missed the large bouquet of flowers in Prescott’s other hand.

“Those for me?” Day smirked and said in a teasing tone, “Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

“Seriously, fuckin’ cheap-ass carnations.” God yanked the flowers out of Day’s hands, scoffing so hard it sounded as if he’d choked on a chicken bone. “Aren’t you rich?”

Day glared with his teeth clenched, but God didn’t seem to care as he continued to try to intimidate his friend.

Prescott raised his hands in surrender and inched a couple of steps back when it was obvious God wasn’t going to let him in.

“Well, I chose carnations because Leonidis and I took a vacation with some friends to Bogotá, Colombia.”

“The capital of the carnation,” Day said, unable to hide his smile.

“We somehow got separated from our crew and ended up lost in a carnation maze garden.”

“It took at least three hours.” Day laughed. “It was harder than getting out of an IKEA.”

God sucked his teeth.

Prescott smoothly eased a single carnation from the bunch, putting it to his nose and inhaling before passing it to Day.

“The exit was through a wall of dark red carnations—the color for love, passion, and fascination. I picked one and gave it to you. Do you remember, Leonidis?”

“I remember,” Day whispered, accepting the flower.

“You ready for a Michelin-star dinner? I’ve been waiting two years to cook for you.” Prescott motioned toward the sleek black town car idling at the curb. “My yacht is docked at the Dekalb Marina.”

God’s face fell as fast as his bravado. The defeat in his eyes tugged at Day’s heart, causing an unbearable ache in his chest.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

God stared at him for a long time, his look seeming to beg Day to stay with him, to not leave him alone.

As he slid his hand into Prescott’s soft palm, God’s frown deepened. He yanked his coat off the hook and barreled past them.

Day watched his partner until he burned rubber out of the parking lot.

Prescott tilted his head. “He’s intense.”

Day sighed. “You have no idea.”

“I know that look, Leonidis.”

“What look?”

“The one you used to direct at me during our late-night study sessions.”

Day gave Prescott a soft smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you’re in a relationship of unrequited affection.” Prescott came inside and removed his coat. “Yeah, it is. Which means we’re obviously not going back to my yacht—that happens to have a Karpen Luxetop king-sized mattress covered in white satin rose petals, but hey.”

Day groaned, feeling as if his cock was pissed off at him for the egregious neglect. He removed his jacket and tossed it back over the coatrack. He was glad Prescott was letting him off the hook. He wanted the man badly, always had, but he wanted God more, despite whether his partner wanted him back.

“At least have a couple of drinks with me before you go to him.”

He and Day shared a gentle, chaste kiss, and then, over the next hour, he proceeded to tell his good friend what it was about God that drove him wild.

God

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