Page 46 of The Primary Pest
Taken aback by the man’s engaging smile, Ajax decided to capitalize on it. Dude was hot. “How about a pitcher of margaritas?”
“We’ll have coffee.” Dmytro took the menu out of Bartosz’s hand and practically slapped the server with it.
“I’d have had to card you anyway, sugar.” The next look the server shot him seemed more sympathetic than leering.
Ajax’s cheeks heated. “I’m of age. I have ID.”
“Don’t bother. It’s fake.” Bartosz shot him a pointed look.
When Ajax would have argued, Dmytro kicked him under the table and mouthed the wordhiding.
Another commiserating glance from their server subdued Ajax, and he didn’t pursue it, but he made a mental note to make sure the bar was stocked on this godforsaken boat they kept talking about.
Although that was probably a terrible idea, what with both him and Dmytro getting motion sickness. Well… sometimes it helped if he ate.
Meanwhile, there was the waiter to look at and the boardwalk where people were already cycling and skateboarding. Laughing and meeting up with friends. Some were lining up for a harbor tour and some were waiting outside for their turn in the tiny restaurant. The place had filled up quickly.
“Guess we got here just in time,” Ajax observed.
Dmytro rested his elbows on the table. “Guess so.”
Their server brought them chips and salsa to go with their chilaquiles. Dmytro picked up a chip and played with it before dipping it. He brought it to his lips with enough salsa to savor, and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.
“It’s good, but hot,” he announced. Ajax got his own and tried it.
“You’re both insane.” Bartosz turned away. “I can feel the heat from here.”
Ajax glanced heavenward. “Every chili has its own flavor. My dad’s a hot sauce guy, so I’ve been schooled. Mom can’t stand the stuff, though. I think she’s afraid she’ll lose control and a tear will slip down her cheek where someone can see. She hates looking weak.”
“It’s not weak to cry.” Dmytro’s quiet words surprised all of them. Was that for him? Ajax had to wonder. He’d cried himself to sleep the night before.
Had Dmytro cried when Anton died? Had he cried for his wife?
Ajax wanted to lay his hand over Dmytro’s, though it would go over like an elevator fart. The waiter came by with their food then, and this time Ajax couldn’t see anything but him, his build, and his dazzling smile.
He must have let on what he was thinking because Bartosz laughed and said, “I think someone has developed a crush.”
“Littlelysytsya.” Dmytro flicked the side of Ajax’s head. “We mustn’t draw attention, remember?”
Cheeks on fire, Ajax dug into his food. He was so hungry at first he barely tasted the flavors, but after a while, he started savoring each bite.
“This food is delicious.” He frowned. “What did you call me just now?”
“Norka, more like.” Bartosz grinned at Dmytro.
Dmytro laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth with a napkin. “Yes. Very much so.”
“What was that?” Ajax asked between bites. “What did you say? Was it about me?”
“Dmytro called you a fox,” said Bartosz, scooping up his eggs.
“Fox? Oh.” Ajax was… not exactly offended. “Okay.”
“Bartosz called you amink.” Dmytro’s lips twitched with hidden laughter. “I agree. Mink fits better. You’re a mink scenting its mate with the waiter.”
At this, he did a comic pantomime that made Ajax’s skin boil with shame.
“Fuck you both.” He forked up a big bite of creamy refried beans and seasoned rice. “He’s hot.”
