Page 32 of A Series of Rooms
“Shhh, the point of this is that we’re done with math now.”
The champagne foamed to the top of Jonah’s glass as Liam poured, and Jonah took the opportunity to observe the candid glimpse of Liam’s happiness. The smile on his lips was genuine and soft, his eyes light, and Jonah had a real moment of gratitude that he was here with him. That whatever else the week held for him, he got to be here now, in this room.
And for a moment, looking at Liam’s face, he could almost let himself believe that Liam was grateful, too.
The warmth had settled over them like a sunset, starting in their chests and bellies and spreading outward into their limbs, their toes, their noses and fingers. Two lazy heaps sinking into the mattress. They were side by side, close enough to touch, but just far enough away that they didn’t.
Jonah lay with both arms strung up at his sides, bent at the elbow, open hands parallel with his head against the mattress. In the still quiet, Jonah could feel the slow, even movement of Liam’s breathing from beside him. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the comforting rhythm.
“I have a confession to make.” It was Liam’s voice that broke the silence minutes later. Jonah opened his eyes, his head lolling lazily toward him, waiting.
“I hate coffee.”
A laugh bubbled out of Jonah. “What?”
He felt light and dizzy in the best way as he rolled onto his side, propping himself up onto his elbow.
“Despise it,” Liam returned the laugh, rolling up to mirror his position. “I don’t understand how you drink it black.”
Jonah pressed a fist to his mouth. “But you drink it every week! I’ve seen you. I—Why would you...?”
Liam shrugged, shifting his gaze to the stretch of duvet between them. Jonah watched as he traced a line of stitching with his index finger. A delightful pinkness crept into his cheeks from more than the alcohol consumption. “I didn’t want you to drink alone.”
If Jonah’s heart thudded a bit harder in his chest then, it was probably just a side effect of the alcohol. “Is that why you put like, seven sugars in it?”
Liam made an outraged sound. “‘Seven’is a dramatic rewriting of history.”
“Oh, am I the dramatic one now?”
“Are you implying thatI’mdramatic?”
“You,” Jonah replied around a hiccup, “are drunk.”
They were quiet for a beat, and then Liam’s answering hiccup sent them tumbling into a helpless fit of laughter.
“You’redrunk,” Liam slurred.
“I’m drunk,” Jonah agreed in a whisper.
Liam snorted—a crass, uncensored sound that he definitely wouldn’t have made sober—and swatted a haphazard hand in Jonah’s direction. It landed with a thump on the bed, incidentally close enough to Jonah’s that their pinky fingers overlapped. Warm skin twitched against cold at the contact, and when Liam turned his hand just slightly, his finger hooked around Jonah’s instead of pulling away. Maybe it was an accident, or maybe he was too drunk to notice, but neither one of them made a move to separate.
Jonah was just starting to drift again when Liam spoke through a yawn. “Your turn,” he said.
“For what?” Jonah yawned in return.
“I gave you a confession, now you have to give me one.”
Jonah chuckled low in his throat, his eyebrows turning down. “I don’t remember agreeing to those terms.”
“Fair is fair,” he declared.
“What do you want me to say?” Jonah asked.
“Anything. Whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t have to be as embarrassing as mine.”
Jonah didn’t bother to mention he hadn’t found Liam’s to be embarrassing in the slightest. Instead, he let his mind wander, trying to find what he wanted to say. There were plenty of secrets he kept hidden, and there were some truths he had decided early on to keep from Liam. Unfortunately for him, the alcohol was one hell of a force for breaking down all inhibitions, and he felt his mouth forming the words before he could stop them.
“The night we met in that bathroom, I was at the bar to meet someone,” he said. “A client, I mean.”
