Page 10 of Counterpoint
Yeah, he did. And no, age hadn’t been an issue before. “What’s next?”
Besides the twinkling of Jackson’s eyes, next turned out to be balance work on the Bosu and then planks. All kinds of goddamned planks. Then a cool-down jog.
When they hit the locker room, Jackson leaned against the lockers and leveled a look Adrian couldn’t turn from. “So what’s really bothering you about this guy, Adrian? Because it’s not his age, it’s certainly not his taste in books or food, but you arebothered, my friend.”
Adrian extracted his shower kit and a towel, then stripped off his soaked T-shirt and tossed it into the locker. “He’s...fuck if I know.” Layered. More than a pretty smile. He shook his head slowly, piecing together his thoughts. “He’s wicked smart, I think. And there’s a shyness there, but also such audacity.”
“Lord, a man who’s Adrian’s catnip.” Jackson got his kit and a towel, and they both headed to the showers.
Maybe. All right, yes. Adrian faced Jackson. “He let me feed him half a piece of pie, and the way he looked when I did—Jack. I can’t even describe it.”
A smile formed on Jackson’s lips. “You don’t have to. Written all over you. And if you had him literally eating out of your hand, he probably likes the other things you have to offer.” The smile slid to something more serious. “Adi, boy, there’s nothing wrong with wanting something longer. For all that we both play the field, you know my thoughts on that matter.”
Yeah, he did, especially lately. Jackson had bemoaned the hookup scene as a source for something longer-term than a couple hours.I want a man who can move, sure, and scream, but also one who wants to remember my name. Stick around. Get breakfast.
And there was truth to what Jackson had said. “There’s a lot more I could enjoy if it’s more than one night.” Adrian said the words almost to himself, then laughed. “I’m getting tired of hookups, too.”
Jackson clapped him on the back, then shoved him toward a stall. “You never really liked the music at the clubs anyway.”
“I never went to the clubs for themusic, Jack.” Because when he went clubbing, it wasexactlyfor a couple hours of fun and no names.
Jackson waved that away, and vanished into a shower stall of his own.
Adrian hadn’t been at a club the other night. Dominic was more than a pickup—and that was okay. Maybe it was voicing his thoughts about Dominic or maybe the endorphins from the workout, but he was feeling a hell of a lot better by the time they both cleared the showers and dressed in their suits and ties and headed to the office. Thoughts of Dominic were still there, but they weren’t throwing him like they had been.
Dinner was a start. They’d see where that went.
“Thanks for kicking my ass this morning.” He grinned at Jackson as they carded themselves past security.
“You won’t be thanking me later, but you’re welcome.” Jackson hit the elevator button. “And I’m glad it wasn’t the trip that had you all freaked, ’cause shit’s already too fucked in the department.”
“Oh god, what did I miss?”
The elevator dinged, and Jackson gave a dark, bitter chuckle before stepping inside the car.
Adrian followed. Well, guess he’d find out soon enough.
* * *
By lunchtime, a dull ache had spread over Adrian’s body from the workout Jackson had put him through, and a much sharper throbbing ran through his brain. Though his business trip had gone reasonably well and he’d completed all of his tasks, there was still a huge pile of work waiting for him when he got to his desk.
His boss, Russ, had swung by. “There were quite a few bugs in the code you’re responsible for, Adrian. Your areas are usually rock-solid. What happened?”
He didn’t know, because he hadn’t touched that area of the software in two weeks. And no one else should’ve—it wasn’t part of any of the features being worked on currently. “I’ll take a look. Nothing should have changed at all.”
He had his suspicions, of course, and a quick look at the change log bore those out. He IM’d Jackson.
What the hell has William been doing in my code?
Same thing he’s been doing in everyone’s code: “improving” it.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t the tightest coder, but he wasn’t sloppy and he was fairly economical. He ran the unit tests and Jackson regularly looked over his lines before he pushed them to production.
I’ve only been gone two weeks. How could he have screwed up so damn much? Doesn’t he have his own stuff to do?
He claims he needs to fix stuff in our lines to make things work. I’ve been fighting with him and management all last week, but for some reason, they’d rather listen to William than me.
Adrian flinched. He knew the reason, as did Jackson. Despite the degrees and Jackson’s brilliance as a computer scientist and engineer, William’s white skin and Midwest accent always impressed the bosses. Guy could get away with murder—not to mention really shitty coding—and still get promoted.
