Jacob watches the brunette boy more than he watches the fashion show. He's seated across the runway from Jacob, face like an angel and a halo of curls to match. His suit is well cut and hugs his frame, giving him the polished air of one of the models walking back and forth in front of them.
Jacob is pretty sure he'd buy anything that this boy advertised.
Jed keeps elbowing him and trying to draw his attention back to the tall androgynous sort of models displaying outfits that range from sleek to exquisite to just plain outrageous. Jacob would probably be more intrigued if he hasn't walked in a show like this more than once, and if that little fairy-like boy wasn't sitting across from him looking absolutely enticing in every way.
After the show, most everyone migrates back to the big gala hall for drinks and socializing and picking up in the latest trends or juiciest gossip. Jacob doesn't much like it, but Jed does, and it gives Jacob an excuse to watch the sprite-like boy mingle throughout the room.
Jacob finds a seat at the bar because the drinks are complimentary and it seems to him that leaning against the countertop gracefully sipping a drink looks a lot more impressive than just standing around ogling at someone.
"Do you know who that is?"
Jed appears at Jacob's shoulder, startling him enough that he nearly chokes on his drink. He tears his away from the brunette boy who smiles as he shakes hands with some tall dark handsome type.
"No, do you?" Jacob's words come out sounding more desperate than he had intended.
Jed gives him a nod, taking a drink from his glass. "Troye Sivan. Australian pop singer. He released his first album a couple of months ago."
He's a singer. Jacob finds that undeniably appealing, and suddenly he wants to be near enough to him that he can hear him speak.
Jed gives Jacob a sideways glance. "He's cute, huh?"
Jacob shrugs, flicking his eyes back to Troye. "He's alright."
He's raises his brows. "You've been lusting after him all night. You want in his pants, Jacob, and it shows."
"Jedidiah!" Jacob hisses. "You don't have to be so loud."
"Oh, but you didn't deny it."
Jacob swallows half his drink at once. "He's probably some tragically heterosexual golden boy anyways."
Jed chokes back a laugh, annoying Jacob. "Not even close. You really have to start googling your boy crushes, Jake."
"I don't even know his name until now," Jacob grumbles.
"Okay then forget googling him, honey, your gaydar is off. I'm pretty sure that little twink invented homosexuality. It's pretty obvious."
"Whatever, Jed. Not everyone feels the need to obsessively stalk and over-analyze the every movement of their crush of the day."
Jacob dips back into his cup for a drink, fuming.
Jed sighs. "I am telling you, brother to brother here, bro code advice - you have got to stop quietly observing your crush of the day. Go over there and make him your catch of the day."
Jacob rolls his eyes. "That sounds rather objectifying of Troye here."
Now it's Jed's turn to roll his eyes. "Would you stop being such a gentleman and go have fun for once please? No I mean seriously, please. I can't remember the last time I saw you with anybody."
"Well it's not like I exactly make a habit of showing you do I?" Jacob asks, peeved at Jed's persistence. "Next time I'll do it in your bed if it makes you feel better okay?"
"Sure, Jakes. If that's what gets you off."
Jacob slaps his friend on the shoulder. "Fuck off, Jed. You're obnoxious."
Jacob genuinely hopes no one else is listening in to their conversation right now.
Jed grins. "I'm the best thing that ever happened to you. Now I'll just be over here staying out of your way, and leaving the court wide open for Troye to shoot his shot."
Jacob spends the next hour taking fill advantage of complimentary drinks and watching Troye Sivan from across the room. He's sort of starting to feel creepy until he looks up and realizes that Troye is looking back at him. Jacob looks away sharply, hoping he wasn't staring or making a weird face or something. When he looks back, Troye is in deep conversation with someone else, as if he'd never even seen Jacob. The second time it happens, Troye gazes at him for longer, and this time he turns to the person he's talking to and excuses himself. And then he's striding over to Jacob. Oh shit he's striding over to Jacob. Jacob straightens his posture, flicking his hair out of his eyes and trying to look casual. He's had too many drinks for this. He would have had fewer if he thought there was actually a chance he'd be talking to the brunette boy tonight. Troye reaches near where Jacob's standing, and motions to the bartender for a refill on his drink. Jacob notices his fingernails, painted a glossy black color that compliment his suit. A tiny silver hoop adorns his nose. It's the small things that make this boy intoxicating for Jacob to look at. He takes his newly filled drink from the bartender, and without such as a polite greeting to Jacob, he speaks.
"Why were you looking at me?"
The boy's voice is even more perfect than he thought it would be. Deep, but not gravelly. Sort of rich, like coffee or velvet maybe. Laced with an Australian accent that only made him more appealing. Definitely a singer's voice. Wait, did he ask a question? Jacob downs the contents of his glass to buy himself time. Through the fog of his tipsy brain he can't find a way to answer this without embarrassing himself. "Nothing, um, you just looked familiar." He says, avoiding the boy's gaze.
"Oh. Hm. I don't think we've met before." Troye says, extending a long fingered hand. "Troye Sivan."
"Jacob. Jacob Bixenman." Jacob replies. He makes the mistake of looking up at Troye again, and up close he really is something to look at. There's a small galaxy of freckles sprinkled across his nose, and his eyes are blue. Not pale icy blue, but not dark either. Somewhere in between, like the color of the sky on a perfectly clear day. Jacob wonders if Troye is aware how attractive he is.
Troyw clicks his tongue. "Okay Jacob Bixenman. Riddle me this: if we've never met before, why do I look familiar to you?"
"Um, well, you...you just look like this old friend of mine," Jacob invents weakly on the spot. "It's nothing."
Troye nods. "Ah. Yeah, I've been told that I have one of those generically recognizable faces."
"Really?" Jacob doesn't think Troye looks generic at all.
"No, not really."
"Oh." Jacob taps nervously at his glass, searching for something to say. "Um, do you live in Paris?"
Troye frowns, gesturing to himself. "What gave it away, my thick French accent?"
Jacob can feel his cheeks flush. "No, I mean, obviously, you come from Australia, I just- people move to other places."
"I don't really live anywhere. I'm on the road 80% of the time." Troye says. "But I call Australia home still. And you?"
"California." Jacob replies. He can answer that, at least, without hesitation.
"But of course. That's where all you models live, isn't it? Los Angeles, I'm sure."
Jacob frowns. He doesn't recall telling Troye that he's a model. "How do you know what I do?"
For the first time, Troye looks caught off guard. "I - I don't. You just look the type." He says, his cheekbones tinged pink. It's easy to see on his milky complexion.
"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Jacob replies, still a little confused.
"Anyday." Troye says, gathering his composure and downing the rest of his drink. He sets his glass on the bar countertop. "Well, it was nice to meet you Jacob Bixenman."
He saunters away be Jacob can reply
