Page 30 of The Moon Also Rises
“He was the best,” he says. Not wanting to interrupt this moment of Rami’s, I step to the side and open the wardrobe to retrieve my suit jacket. When I close the wardrobe door, Rami is there gesturing for me to hand it to him.
“Allow me,” he says, and I pass it over.
As he holds it up and I slide my arms into it, I catch a hint of his smell, a spiced musk that has a fresh air tone to it, almost like a layer of mint. I don’t hate it, at all, and I instantly wish I’d never smelt it. When the jacket is on, I feel his hands come to rest on my shoulders, brushing off whatever he sees there.
“Looking good, Forester,” he says behind me and my eyes bolt open with how sexy his voice sounds saying those words, saying my surname, with his mouth so close to my ear. I glance quickly at the drink I just placed on the desk. How strong is it?
“We have about ten more minutes until everything starts downstairs,” Rami says. I turn to find him sat on the bed, opening up his laptop. “I just want to find a few things on here to help me later.”
“Oh, yes. Mr DJ,” I say as I reach for the handkerchief and start folding it.
“You don’t mind?” Rami looks up at me. “I suppose I should have checked. It will only be for two hours, from midnight, so maybe you’ll have a whole army of new friends by then to hang out with.”
“Midnight? I’ll hopefully already be in bed asleep by then. Or passed out in the water fountain outside trying and no doubt failing to end it all. But seriously, it’s fine. I’m sure Lionel and Luigi will be very grateful.”
“Which will make you look good to them,” Rami says.
“How?”
“By having a boyfriend who saves the wedding, or at least the dancing part of the wedding.”
“Hmm, you’re right. Just no other grand gestures or big favours please, they’ll end up liking you more than me, which is not something my ego can take today,” I say as I place the handkerchief in my pocket and faff around with it a bit more, tutting when the top point keeps falling to one side.
“Here.” Rami comes to stand opposite me. His hands and eyes are on the handkerchief in my breast pocket, meaning I can take in his face at my liberty. And fuck, if I don’t catch another whiff of that delicious smell.
Jesus, do I fancy Rami?I roll my eyes again, this time solely for my own benefit.Of course, I probably do. That’s literally the only thing missing from this already disastrous day – falling for an unavailable straight man.How very vintage Jake.
“It’s fine,” I say reaching up to move his hands away from me, suddenly finding his proximity agitating. I manage to make it look less aggressive when I then reach for the lip balm in my jacket’s inside pocket.
“I’m sorry we’re not matching,” he says pointing to his black tie which is velvet, a nice sophisticated touch.
“I’m not, only losers have matching bowties,” I say as I click the lip balm’s lid back on after applying it to my lips. “Right. Let’s go face the music, shall we?”
*****
Lionel and Luigi don’t just have matching bowties, they’re wearing matching cream tuxes. And there’s a fucking string quartet serenading guests as they sip welcome bellinis out on the terrace overlooking the gardens. I would also put what little money I have in my bank account on there also being a hamper of poor suffocating doves somewhere around here waiting to be released on Lionel and Luigi’s first kiss as husband and husband.
Ugh, this wedding is insufferably perfect.
Circulating alone and greeting guests, I notice Lionel trying to catch my attention multiple times. I avoid his approaches until I see the moment he gives up, his shoulders dropping and his eyes lingering on the floor for a few seconds. To help ease the sting his evident disappointment brings me, I search the crowd for a server with drinks and make my way over to the nearest one.
“I probably should have checked how well you can handle your drink,” Rami says as I grab my second flute of champagne.
“I can handle my drink,” I insist. When I hear just how snappy it sounds, I lower my voice and slow it down to appear a bit calmer. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Rami says and I hate how well he’s managing to do sarcasm now.
“I really can handle my drink. Unless of course, I start removing clothing or looking for a microphone at some point. And as the DJ you are under strict instructions to ignore me should I request It’s Raining Men.”
“Understood,” Rami says with a closed-lip smile as he tucks his hands in his pockets.
“Shit, you don’t have a drink. Shall we go get you a juice from the bar or something?”
“I’m fine, Jake. But thank you,” he says, looking out over the gardens. “They couldn’t have gotten luckier with the weather.”
I follow his gaze and take in the cloudless blue skies and bright sunshine. There’s the gentlest of breezes which carries the sweet and soft scent of roses up to us, something I can actually enjoy because I am dosed up on antihistamines for my hay fever. I inhale the smell deeply, grateful for it filling my nostrils rather than catching another inhale of Rami’s scent. I now suspect the reason why I don’t recognise it is because it must be a horrifically expensive cologne. And I reassure myself that that’s also the reason why I like it so much; I’ve always had expensive tastes. It’s got nothing to do with the man wearing it.
Pulling my eyes back to our fellow guests, I quickly survey the people nearest us.
