Part 2/2

890 65 5
                                    

Type sat at his computer after the meeting and tried to focus. He had a million calls to make, a client to corral through three interviews this afternoon...so why was his brain busy replaying Tharn's smile before he left the previous night? Why was his nose smelling Tharn's cologne instead of his fresh cup of coffee?

He's a jerk, Type reminded himself. He's just playing around. He's trying to get you to admit you're attracted to him.

You're not gay, he thought firmly. Bi, yes, but that didn't mean he had to be interested in the lone gay guy in the office. Even if that guy could easily have been a model himself for practically any brand.

Especially in that case. Tharn could hit any gay bar in town and find a guy interested in him. There was no reason for him to really be interested in a grumpy closet case like Type. This had to be some kind of game.

Teeth grinding, Type opened up a document to write up a proposal for a new Muay Thai fighter the agency had signed on.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Type worked a little late to make up for leaving early the day before, catching up on email and finally getting his inbox down to fewer than 100 emails.

Stretching, he felt his back crack. Ugh, he'd better remember to do his exercises more frequently or everything was going to lock up and the rehab orthopedist would say he'd told him so. Gathering his things, he shoved them in his briefcase.

"Leaving?" Tharn asked from the doorway.

Type didn't look up. "Yes."

"I'll walk out with you."

"Do as you like," Type muttered.

Tharn chuckled. "I nearly always do."

Type just shook his head and stood, brushing past Tharn, who stayed in the doorway until he'd passed.

As they went through the front door of the office, Tharn said, "You like that raw crap. Have you been to the Japanese place on Ratchadaphisek in Khlong Toei?"

"Yeah, it's good." Type's mouth watered, remembering.

"Let's go. My treat."

Type gave him an incredulous look as they stopped at the elevator, but Tharn was busy pushing the down button and adjusting his cuffs. What the fuck? (Damn it, Tharn had made him say it again.) "Fine," he huffed. "For the sushi."

"Of course." Tharn smiled serenely and stepped into the elevator. Shaking his head, Type followed him in.

The restaurant was a bit far to walk, so they hailed a cab. The ride would have been uncomfortable if Tharn hadn't asked Type's opinion on the most recent football game. "I heard a couple of guys arguing that it was all the fault of the defense, but that didn't sound right."

Football carried them all the way to ordering and Type asked about a new hot band and couldn't help laughing as Tharn nearly spilled his drink while gesticulating and complaining about the inadequacies of their drummer.

They debated the edibility of raw foods for a while, with Tharn insisting that the use of fire is what made humans human. Type loudly enjoyed his sushi while Tharn ostentatiously put his fork in his cooked shrimp.

Tharn got a bottle of sake, offering some to Type. It wasn't Type's favorite alcohol but it seemed rude to refuse when the other was paying. Besides it did go well with sushi.

Type wasn't drunk when they were done, but he was definitely a little loose. Without a specific destination in mind, they meandered out of the restaurant and walked along the canal, quietly watching the other pedestrians and walking off the sake.

A Little Work, A Little PlayWhere stories live. Discover now