Page 87 of Counterpoint
“You’re not my therapist.”
A small smile. “No. I’m your lover and your boyfriend, and sometimes the person who puts you on your knees and ties you up.”
All of that sounded good. So good. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.” Because it would be nice to ignore that shitty little voice for a while. “And I should see about actually getting a therapist, ’cause this is on me, not you.”
Adrian touched his forehead to Dom’s and stroked his cheeks. “Agreed.”
“Should we finish getting dressed? Or cancel dinner?” Just as Dom asked the question, his stomach growled.
“There’s your answer.” Adrian nudged Dom off his lap.
Yeah, now that he was calmer and more collected, hunger burned through him.
He finished cleaning up and put his shirt and bowtie back on while Adrian donned a tie and jacket that matched his pants. He looked crisp and finished, even with his hair slightly disheveled.
“Hey,” Dom called, then beckoned Adrian over. A quick brush of Dom’s fingers set Adrian’s hair right. “There.”
That got him a hand behind the neck and a sweet, slow kiss. Then Adrian straightened his bowtie. “I like the shoes,” he murmured.
Dom shook his head. “Nowyou notice them.”
They were both smiling when they left the house, hopped in the Uber Adrian had called, and headed to a nice place up by Columbia University.
“Hipster central,” Dom said.
“Says the hipster.” Adrian took his hand and tugged him into the restaurant.
The place? Nice. Really nice. If he weren’t actually secretly a rock star, it would have been way-out-of-his-budget nice. “Um, this is...” He looked around as they were led into the dining room. “May I pay for this one, Adrian?”
“No.” A very final answer, but delivered with a smile. “One nice benefit of mywell enoughjob is that it pays far more than its enjoyment factor. And with no rent or mortgage...” Adrian shrugged.
Fuck. How many people would love to be that lucky? “Wow, okay.” Dom paused. “You really don’t like your job?”
Adrian gave a sigh, then looked up. “Hold that thought.”
Next thing Dom knew, a server materialized at their table. She took their drink orders. Well, order—Adrian asked for a bottle of wine Dom knew better than to check the price of. Part of him still cringed at how much things cost. But another part liked that he could afford them. The third part gave quite a bit to LGBT charities because hecouldand he fucking welloughtto support the community. He’d always feel a little weird about the wealth, he was pretty sure.
After the server left, Adrian tapped at his menu. “We should order, then we can talk.”
Which could either be a diversion tactic, or a legitimate suggestion. Given his own exhaustion and emotional frailty, Dom leaned toward the latter, especially since he didn’t have the energy to poke secrets from Adrian. And he didn’t have the ground to stand on to do it, either.
But once the wine came and their food orders were taken, Adrian folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I don’thatemy job,” he said. “It pays quite well and it’s a damn sight more stable than the ones I had out in California.”
Dom considered that, picking up his wine and sipping. For a moment, he was lost in the complex tastes on his tongue, and he closed his eyes. “Fuck, this is a good bottle of wine.”
Adrian chuckled. “Well, it better be, considering.”
Yeah, the price had been high, then. Dom flicked his eyes open to see Adrian’s cocky smile. He, however, still hadn’t touched his glass, aside from when the server had offered a taste. Dom set his own glass down. “Not hating something isn’t the same as liking something.”
“No.” Adrian’s voice was dusty. He sat back, humor fading, and grabbed his wineglass. “It’s not. But not liking a job isn’t always a good reason to quit it.” He finally drank.
“But what keeps you there?” Because everything about the way Adrian held himself said he was unhappy, and Dom was pretty sure that this wasn’t about him. They’d already had their—fight? Spat? Whatever.
Another sip, then a sigh. “Right at the moment? Not much, to be honest. This week’s been hell. My best friend’s probably quitting, and I’ve been given a project that’s been royally screwed up by an asshole who somehow keeps getting promoted.”
“Um, Adrian? That kinda sounds a lot like hating your job.”
His laugh was dark. “Maybe.” He met Dom’s gaze across the table. “It’s been on my mind since that first night we met. Mywell enoughjob.” He took a larger swallow of wine, then set the glass down.
