Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Twenty-One: Mixed Signals

Tonight's dinner experience was pasta with marinara sauce; while not haute cuisine, there was no question it had turned out delicious. Dessert would come in the form of cookies baked by his second-floor neighbor, whom Josh had never met in all his years living there; irrevocable proof that Emery was more likable than he believed himself to be, and that said neighbor's son was doing better at math.

"Oh, this is good," Josh praised, eating another forkful. "Really good."

Emery preened. "I agree, it turned out well."

"Please say you made enough that there'll be leftovers for lunch."

Emery gave him A Look from across the couch. "Yes, I've learned my lesson. Nothing is quite as appealing to you as eating the same meal twice in a row."

"It always tastes better the next day." He wiped his mouth and took a sip of water before setting both napkin and glass on the coffee table. "That's just how the world works."

"Your world, perhaps," Emery said, patronizing tone made softer by the mirth dancing in his eyes, "but then your world is one where men have marinara sauce on their faces."

"There's sauce on my face?" Josh set his bowl down and dabbed at his face with the napkin again.

"A little to your left— no, up. The— to your right. Stop."

Emery leaned across the space between them and took the napkin from him, gently wiping the sauce away. His fingertips were warm where he held Josh's jaw.

It shouldn't have hit him that hard. They touched one another often enough these days, brushes of hands, pats on their backs... He'd remained true to his intention to offer Emery as many chances of casual contact as possible.

This — Emery leaning slightly above him, touching his face, eyes focused on what he was doing and not even noticing the effect he was having — shouldn't have affected Josh so deeply.

When Emery looked at him it became hard to breathe. Warm brown eyes widened when they met his, lips slightly parted. It would be so easy, so astoundingly, ridiculously easy to reach up and kiss him now. To finally know how it would feel —wouldn't that be something?

Yes. It'd be something that would make Josh unable to face his reflection in the mirror; it'd be something that would make him pathetic. He needed to do whatever it took to get Emery out of his system once and for all.

He rose abruptly, dinner forgotten, trying — no doubt failing — to look casual. "I think I'm in the mood to go out, maybe have some fun — just going to have a quick shower before I go."

Looking back to see Emery's reaction was out of the question; he hid in the shower, resisting the urge to bang his head against the tile. Nothing in him really wanted to go out tonight, but he'd become too accustomed to having Emery around, and Emery's company wasn't a reliable substitute for any sort of craving, whether physical or emotional. Josh had to get started on living the rest of his life.

He took his time getting ready — blow-drying his hair, selecting the clothes, the aftershave — only because it lent credibility to the idea that he was going out to meet someone. Josh didn't know who he was trying to convince: Emery or himself.

Emery had retreated to his bedroom by the time Josh was ready to leave, much to his relief. After a quick text to tell Mark he was heading to Chelsea — another one of his mother-hen impositions but, since Mark did the same whenever he went out, Josh could hardly complain — Josh grabbed his jacket and fled.

#

Josh sat by the counter, soda in hand, lost in thought. He'd come here before — a number of times over the years, when he wanted meaningless fun more than he wanted to consider being in a relationship. Truth be told, he hardly ever wanted to consider being in a relationship — it had happened on its own a few times in his life, most notably with Brian, but it wasn't something he actively sought or missed. Not until he'd crossed paths with Emery.