Page 7 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
“I’ve never heard of him. How do you spell that?”
Damian spelled it out. He could sense Jack storing it away in his memory. He didn’t make a move toward his pockets at all, but it didn’t feel like he’d asked the question just to be polite.
“So, you like a range of different things? What about rappers?”
Damian shrugged. “There’s a couple local underground rappers I like in Chicago.” He named off a few. Jack hadn’t heard of any of them. Not surprising. Damian’s taste ran old school with more focus on storytelling than any of the made-for-radio commercial stuff.
He turned the question round. “Who do you like?”
“Madonna.” Jack pushed back the hat just enough to smirk. His brown eyes sparkled.
“For real?”
“For real. But I also like Amy Lee, The Hu, Nico Touches Walls. Taylor Swift.”
Damian chuckled. It just felt like the natural reaction as if Jack had told a joke even though he couldn’t have explained what it was.
They traded favorite songs until the service person came back with snacks and more water. The waiter was busy and didn’t even spare Jack a glance, just checking with Damian that he was satisfied and then hurrying away as they were called to the next booth over by a gaggle of drunk twenty-something boys in rumpled suits. It was half past midnight. Anyone drinking was well on their way to getting sloshed, or they were slowing down and trying to sober up. Considering the drinking culture, it was fortunate that hangover tonics were plentiful. Pity more weren’t also sold in the US.
Damian checked his phone. He sent Richard a long text update while Jack ate more than half the snacks and drank a third bottle of water. It was almost like he’d worked out right before finding Damian to hide behind. After Richard and Damian finished talking business, Richard changed topics.
Richard:
Damian shook his head and texted back.
Richard:
Damian smiled, looking at the message. He was thirty-two years old, but Richard calling him a good boy made him want to roll over and show his belly. He sent back a thumbs-up emoji and put his phone in his pocket.
“Are your friends looking for you?” Jack asked. “I can go.”
“Where would you go?” Something about how Jack said go reminded Damian of himself many years ago. Going didn’t always mean that the person moving on had somewhere to be. Sometimes it just meant leaving.
The tightened curve of Jack's shoulders confirmed his suspicions.
“No one is looking for me right now,” Damian answered. “They know what I’m doing.”
“And what’s that?” Jack's eyes held Damian’s with a certain nervous curiosity and vulnerability as if the young man was too tired to be as cautious as he should be.
“Probably going back to my hotel room soon. But I wouldn’t mind a plus-one. There’s room service. And I never say no to company while watching cartoons.”
“You watch cartoons?”
“Do not knock Looney Tunes.” Damian raised both eyebrows as if prepared to fight.
Jack giggled, his water bottle coming up against his face, smooshing his nose and lips as he tried to cover the sound.
He was cute. Too cute. And tired. Now that he wasn’t being so cautious, the depth of how tired he was, heart tired, at least, was showing through the flawless makeup around his eyes and across his cheeks. It was how he leaned on the table and the way his movements were just slightly off. He wasn’t drunk. There was no smell of alcohol on him at all. It was all fatigue.
“Do you want to come?”
Jack froze, his elbows coming in against his chest.
“What are you offering?”
Until that moment, conversation and hanging out had been the only thing Damian had let himself imagine, but it was obvious Jack knew there were other options. Whether or not he wanted those other options with Damian was not clear.
Damian gave himself a moment. “How about we start with room service and cartoons, and if we both want something more, we talk about it then? No requirements.”
