Get What You Need (26 page)

Taking him to Greg’s talk when Greg had been too oblivious to invite him himself.

Christ, he’d been so jealous of that girl, even after Marsh had told him in no uncertain terms that they were only friends. He’d still envied the way Marsh talked about her, how easy they seemed with each other.

And in the meantime, it looked like she’d been working behind the scenes, getting Marsh here.

“Who’s that with him?” Ronnie started.

Greg swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “His friend.”

Of course, Professor Chu had to pick that precise instant to tap on the microphone at the front of the room, sending the
tap-tap
noise over the speakers. The buzzing in the room settled down, and Greg should face forward now. He should be paying attention, but he couldn’t stop staring at Marsh, who was here.

Greg hadn’t invited him, and he’d come anyway, and Greg felt so overwhelmingly, powerfully grateful it floored him. Marsh cared, and he was here.

Marsh was still scanning the room, and Greg held his breath until those cool eyes finally swept over to point toward him. Marsh sat up a little straighter as their gazes locked, and Greg wanted to run up there and kiss him or hug him or hit him for not saying whatever he’d been thinking all those times he’d mentioned this stupid presentation. For not shaking Greg out of his own self-deluded navel-gazing that had kept him from even imagining Marsh might want to be here. For now, though, all he could do was soften his features and give him a pained half smile that didn’t say even a fraction of what he wanted to.

He had no idea what Marsh heard.

But he couldn’t dwell on any of it right now. Dr. Chu was at the lectern, and he was holding a hand out toward Greg. Greg’s first slide was up on the projector.

Showtime.

As Greg’s name was called, he rose to his feet, hardly feeling the clap on the shoulder from Ronnie. What was his talk supposed to be about again? Oh God, he was going to blank. He was going to embarrass his family and humiliate himself in front of Marsh. Maybe he could make a break for it…

Only, his feet were taking him across the room toward the lectern, and he was shaking Dr. Chu’s hand. Chu, who was nodding at Greg expectantly as he pressed the clicker for the PowerPoint into Greg’s palm. Greg faced the room, and it was only two-thirds full, but that was a lot of people. All the big names in the field he’d met yesterday, people whose papers he had read and cited. Hell, one of the men who had written Greg’s first-year materials science textbook was in the fifth row. The projector was bright, and his tie was too tight, and the room was
boiling
.

He swept the room with his gaze, and there were his folks, his mom beaming while his dad sat back with a smug, pleased expression on his face.

And there was Marsh, sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin braced on his steepled hands, and his attention was rapt. Was absolutely focused on Greg. His brow was furrowed, but as their gazes met, Marsh smiled.

Greg took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the words on the screen.

Just like that, it all came back to him. He was in his room practicing. He knew this. He
had
this.

Facing the crowd again, he nodded. And then he began to talk.

Chapter Eighteen

There were a lot of different words Marsh had associated with “science” over the years. Crazy. Ridiculous. Impossible. Never, in a million years, had he ever thought he’d find it sexy.

Sure, there had been glimpses of that just recently. Those few rare times Greg had broken down and told Marsh a little bit about what he did day to day, but even then, it had been more adorable than hot. Especially considering how hesitant and tightlipped Greg tended to be.

But now Greg was standing up in front of a room full of people who probably had more smarts in their pinky fingers than Marsh did in his entire brain, and he was
owning
that shit. He looked good, all put-together and grown-up, and goddamn but Marsh could think of things he wanted to do to him in that tie.

Because this was the man Marsh had been coming home to for weeks, almost months now. The man who sat on his floor eating crappy takeout, the man Marsh had had inside him, the man who’d slept in his bed last night, and Marsh was never going to be worthy of any of that, but in that instant he wanted to be. So fucking bad.

For a good twenty minutes, Greg talked about phase transitions and alloys and a whole bunch of other stuff Marsh couldn’t even begin to understand. Marsh did his best to keep up and failed miserably, but the rising tide of insecurity didn’t tow him under, because he was just so proud of Greg. So happy for him.

“So, in conclusion…” Greg went through a few last bullet points, his posture somehow self-assured and confident in a way Marsh hadn’t really seen before. Marsh’s heart swelled, because, yeah, even Greg knew he’d done well. Wrapping things up, he clicked forward to a blank screen. “I think we have a few minutes for questions?”

Apparently, that was science-speak for “I’m done”, because people started to applaud. At that, Greg stood back, his hands clasped in front of him, and for the first time since the beginning of the presentation, he looked right at Marsh. Marsh clapped even harder, his chest fit to bursting, and he beamed, trying to tell Greg how amazing he was without any words at all.

Yulia leaned in and whispered, “Your boy is
smart
.”

“I know,” Marsh said out of the side of his mouth, and his cheeks hurt with the force of his smile.

As the applause died off, the professor-type who’d introduced Greg stood, and a bunch of hands went up. He called on some old guy in a tweed jacket with actual, honest-to-goodness elbow patches, who rose and started rambling about something apparently related to what Greg had talked about.

As the guy asked his question, Marsh watched Greg. He stood there, unflappable as anything, nodding from time to time, so Marsh drifted to take a look around at the other people in the audience. A small minority were doodling or staring off into space, and one guy near the front was clearly fighting to stay awake, but most everyone was listening in with apparent interest on their faces.

Then Marsh spotted them. Over by the aisle and a few rows down, there was a couple of middle-aged people who were dressed nicely but not quite right for the crowd. Other than the shockingly pink sweater she wore, the woman was unremarkable, but the man next to her… Marsh swallowed hard. Well, at least it was nice to know Greg was going to age okay. The guy’s hair was thinning a little, but his eyes were bright, and the lines on his forehead just made him seem distinguished. He looked kind and sharp, and the shape of his nose and chin were so familiar it almost hurt.

The man asking his question finally sat down, and Greg started to answer. It was way, way over Marsh’s head at this point, so he nudged Yulia, shifting so he could say in her ear, “See the lady in the pink? Over to the left?”

Yulia craned her neck. He could tell the second she spotted them, because she turned back to him with a smirk. “You mean the one sitting next to Greg Senior?”

“That’s gotta be them, right?”

“Definitely.”

As people took their turns asking questions, and Marsh divided his time between watching Greg and watching the reactions of the people who had to be his parents. It stopped Marsh in his tracks, the way they looked at him. Like he hung the moon, like he was just as incredible as he was. Like he was their son, and they loved him so much it hurt. Even if he wasn’t so amazing, they’d love him exactly that much.

And Marsh had to look away.

It wasn’t much longer after that before the professor leading the session called time. “Anyone who would like to speak further to Mr. London will be able to find him after the session.” He introduced the next speaker, and Greg took one last sweeping glance around the room, pausing to face the spot where his parents were sitting, then turning toward Marsh. Marsh gave him the best smile he could before Greg dropped his gaze and retreated to take his seat up near the front.

Someone else had claimed the podium by then, and it suddenly dawned on Marsh. He really should have known there would be more talks to sit through, but it wasn’t until the new title page flashed across the screen that the gravity of the situation sank in. He groaned and peeked over his shoulder in a panic. No one was making for the exits. No one. He leaned in closer to Yulia. “How many speakers are there?”

“Runs ’til three o’clock.”

Fuck. Another hour and a half? He could make a break for it. God knew he had plenty of excuses with how much reading he was supposed to do before his three-thirty class, but no. The whole point of showing up at this sort of thing was getting to congratulate the person you’d come there for when it was over. If Greg was a girl—or if Marsh had planned ahead at all—Marsh should have brought him flowers or something, though that would have really given everything away.

Marsh crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot as the new guy started droning on. In for a penny, in for a pound. Marsh would stay. He’d go up to Greg after and tell him he’d been amazing. Maybe, if Greg allowed it, he’d even shake his hand. Or give him a hug. A nice, manly hug. Greg probably wouldn’t want that, though, not in front of everyone, but that was fine. Greg’d still know Marsh cared. He’d know Marsh came for him.

Like there was any other reason he’d sit through two hours of lectures on engineering.

“Every man for himself,” Marsh muttered to Yulia. “If you, y’know, wanna make a break for it.”

She smirked and nudged him with her shoulder. “And miss the show at the end? Not on your life.”

Great.

Somehow or other, Marsh made it through the three speakers that came after Greg, though it was touch and go at points. Finally, the session came to a close. The instant the guy at the front said, “Thank you for coming,” Marsh was out of his seat.

“Don’t act too sorry to see it end,” Yulia grumbled as she stretched her arms overhead and cracked her back.

“And I thought two hours of sitting still during a history lecture was bad.”

“It is. This is just worse.”

Huffing in agreement, Marsh surveyed the room, spotting Greg up front, not far from where he’d been sitting. The guy with the elbow patches had already cornered him, and Marsh shifted his weight from one leg to the other. People were either making their way to the exits or lingering around in loose clusters, having what looked like awfully serious conversations. A couple of science-y-looking types had gathered a few feet away from Greg. They probably wanted to talk to him too, and about things that mattered.

Maybe Marsh should just go. Greg had seen him after all. He eyed the door.

“Uh-uh.” Yulia tugged his elbow and started making for the aisle. “We did not sit through that for you to chicken out.”

“But he has people to talk to,” Marsh said, cringing at the whininess in his own voice.

“Yup, and you’re one of them.”

“I’ll see him at home?”

Yulia rolled her eyes and kept edging toward the front. “Yes, you will,
after
you’ve said hi and told him he looks really hot in a tie.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

Mumbling something that sounded a lot like
hopeless
under her breath, Yulia skirted around some of the scientists loitering near the podium. Elbow-patch guy passed Greg a card and walked away, and Marsh took a deep breath. Okay, he could do this, just a quick hello and a congratulations and then he could go. He threw his shoulders back and stepped forward—

Only to have Greg’s parents cut in front of him, inserting themselves into Greg’s space.

And fuck. Marsh should go. He should
really
go.

Greg’s mom caught Greg up in a hug, and Greg’s cheeks bore the faintest hint of a flush as he let himself be drawn in. He clasped her close and said something in her ear. But then he looked up, over her shoulder, and his eyes alit on Marsh.

Marsh should
go
.

Only a hand shoved Marsh forward, and he stumbled, hopping twice to regain his balance, until before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Greg. Greg pulled away from his mom, and Marsh froze in place. He was ready to point to the exit and mouth something about seeing Greg back at the house. But the corners of Greg’s lips twitched up, a smile so tentative and unsure, and Marsh would do anything to make it solid and sound.

Greg patted his mom’s shoulder and said something Marsh couldn’t quite make out. He stepped toward Marsh.

And this was it. Game day, with a star pitcher on the mound. Marsh fixed his courage up and stood his ground, and everyone else in the room seemed to fade away.

“You came,” Greg said. He was so close, just inches away. It would be so easy to cross that space, put a hand forward and…

“Yeah.” Marsh’s lower lip wobbled, and his expression felt fragile and soft, the way his heart felt whenever he looked at Greg and saw him for exactly who he was. “You were amazing.”

Marsh twitched, wanting to step forward and pull Greg in. Greg’s arms rose, and Marsh looked him right in the eye as he made to do the same, because he needed permission for this. In the end, Greg closed the space between them, catching Marsh up in a hug that was tight and perfect and warm. Marsh wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him for all he was worth. A happy shiver made its way up his spine.