In the Distance (2 page)

Chapter Two

Trevor
Late September

The heavy thud of my feet as I pounded the treadmill was in perfect sync with the bass line of the music blaring through my earbuds. As I swiped my towel over my face and neck, a tanned work of lean, chiseled art caught my eye as he walked by. There weren’t too many members who worked out at this gym who didn’t play for my team and it was easy pickings if you knew the routine.

The guy checked me out as he started the treadmill next to me. Thank God for the wall of mirrors. The trainers instructed us to use them as a tool to help us keep our form while working out. The members used them as a tool to ensure we had company in the cab afterward.

Life in New York was a never-ending sea of company if you had the means and the time. Thanks to my healthy trust fund and Jamie’s move to Seattle and subsequent publicity hiatus a year ago, I had both on my hands. My gaze traveled over to my neighbor on Treadmill Alley, who already had a nice sheen of sweat forming on his face and neck. He was early to midtwenties with short black hair that swept low over his eyebrows. I hadn’t seen him at the gym before.

When my eyes finally made their way back up his body to his face, I watched as his own gaze traveled down and back up. I smirked in answer to his raised eyebrow, and then returned my focus to my workout. I cranked up the volume on my iPod and increased my speed.

Losing myself in the steady rhythm of the treadmill or the pain and sweat of the free weights at the gym had offered an escape from the churning loss of Jamie’s friendship, which we were only now beginning to repair. After seeing him in Seattle at Bistro 30, I knew he was happier with Ethan than he had been in years. Now, I finally understood that everything I’d built up in my head had been a fantasy. I had never told him about my feelings for him and he had never seen me as anything other his best friend. To a somewhat more rational thirty-year-old, it made sense. To a twenty-two-year-old kid alone in Paris with a very handsome and talented roommate, who just so happened to also be gay, rational thought had never entered into it.

Five miles later, I slowed down the speed on the treadmill, slipping into my cooldown run. As my breathing began to calm, so did my chaotic thoughts. I still cared about Jamie; hell, I knew I always would. The difference was, I now knew I wasn’t in love with him. It had been a helluva ride getting to this point, but I was finally there.

When the treadmill finally stopped, I lifted my shirt to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. My neighbor was still pounding away on his, but his eyes were focused on my now-exposed abs. I sent another smirk his way before grabbing my things and heading to the locker room. A quick detour to the sauna and a hot shower later had my mind and body feeling better than it had all week. Alejandro Ortega, my newest project, was all drama all the time. We’d kept it low-key, just some publicity junkets for him to attend to get his restaurant Almuerzo in the spotlight more, but his prima donna attitude and need to be the center of attention was draining at the best of times, downright intolerable at the worst. How laid-back Jamie had ever dated him still boggled my mind.

With my gym bag resting on my shoulder, I made my way to the front of the gym. My treadmill neighbor was leaning against one of the poles near the front desk. The sly twist of his smile and steady gaze told me all I needed to know.

* * *

Four hours later, I leaned over the side of the bed to grab my jeans. An arm snaked around my waist, urging me to lie back down, but a meeting in Midtown tomorrow at too early o’clock made midnight my cue to leave.

“You could stay, you know. I promise I won’t hog all the covers.”

A quick look at the freshly fucked handsome man behind me almost had my resolve crumbling. “Tempting.”

My fingers tightened around the soft denim in my hands when I felt the slow, wet glide of his tongue on the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and leaned back, my eyes drifting closed as that magical mouth worked its way down my neck to my shoulder. A million excuses drifted through my mind for pushing my meeting back an hour or two. Then, my jeans trilled out the all-too-familiar chorus of “Dinner Bell”.

I quickly dug my phone out of the pocket and swiped my thumb across the screen. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Jamie’s familiar laugh came through the earpiece as I cradled it between my ear and shoulder, renewing my effort to get my jeans on. “What? It’s midnight in New York. You’re never in bed this early.”

The bed shifted behind me and a soft voice drifted over my shoulder. “I’m going to grab something to drink. Want anything?”

I shook my head.

Jamie laughed again. “Looks like I spoke too soon.”

A nice, toned ass passed me, but I didn’t feel the urge to stay. I needed to catch a cab and head home. Blaine? Blake? Blake—it was definitely Blake—had been a nice way to cap off my workout.

“Trev? You there?”

I cradled the phone closer to my ear and tugged my jeans the rest of the way on. “Sorry, J. I’m here. What was that?”

“Hey, no problem. We can talk tomorrow. I shouldn’t have called this late anyway.”

A quick glance at the ground helped me locate my shirt as I shifted the phone so I could finish getting dressed.

“Nah, your timing is perfect. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you were still coming to visit next month. E and I finalized our holiday menu and I’d love your input. You’re one of my best critics when it comes to food but it’s kind of hard to get your opinion long-distance.”

I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my face. It was hard to do a lot of things long-distance. After all this time, Jamie hadn’t given up on our friendship. Redefined it, yes. But he hadn’t given me up completely. This was just another reminder that I needed to put in the same kind of effort if I wanted this to work. To everyone else, I was Trevor Pratt, trust-fund baby. From the moment we first met in Paris, Jamie had always just seen me as Trevor, a friend and lifeline during one of the most difficult semesters of his life. We’d seen each other at our best and, more recently, at our worst. Out of all the friends I had, Jamie was the one I didn’t want to lose.

“Yeah. I’m booked to arrive the week before Halloween. Want me to come out earlier? I’m sure I can change my flights.”

“No. That’s perfect. It’ll give me and Ethan time to test out the new dishes on the staff and tweak them before we offer them to the public. Where are you staying this time?”

The sound of the fridge opening and closing in the next room reminded me of where I still was and where I wouldn’t be staying tonight.

“I’ll be at the Westin. The Maxwell was nice, but I wanted something closer to the restaurant this time.”

“You know you’re always welcome here with me and Ethan. Our place has plenty of room and it’s close to Bistro 30.”

A gruff voice shouted in the background, “I have connections at the Westin! It’s awesome. He’ll love it!”

The muffled sound of Jamie’s hand covering the phone preceded his not-so-quiet whisper. “E, I love you, but shut up.”

I slipped my shoes on and left the bedroom, trying to force levity into my tone. “It’s no problem, Jamie. I know you guys are exhausted when you get home from work. The last thing you need is a houseguest you’ll feel compelled to not only entertain, but cook for.”

“I wouldn’t feel—”

“You would. We both know you would. Now, Ethan? He’d let my sorry ass starve. But you would get up early just to have something ready for me before you had to leave for the restaurant. It’ll be easier this way, J. I’ll still come and bug you at Bistro 30, we’ll talk about the upcoming promo on your new cookbook, and you guys can still have your privacy.”

“Are you sure?”

A quick glance into the kitchen stopped me dead in my tracks. Blaine’s—no, Blake’s—lean body was leaning the counter. His lower half was now covered in some sweatpants, but the semi he was sporting told me he’d be ready for another round if I chose to stay.

“Yeah, J. I’m sure. It’s better for everyone this way.” My eyes met Blake’s and I tilted my head toward the front door. “J, can you hold on for a minute?”

Blake came up behind me and murmured against my neck. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

The feel of his lips on my skin should have tempted me to tell Jamie I had to go and take the gorgeous man behind me back to his bedroom. But suddenly, I was bone-tired and wanted the comfort and familiarity of my own bed. “Meetings tomorrow. Rain check?”

“Can’t wait.”

No phone numbers had been exchanged, no promises made. There was always the possibility we’d see each other at the gym, but both of us knew this had been a one-time deal. I flashed one last smile, hoisted my gym bag over my shoulder and left all thoughts of Blake and our rain check at the door as I tucked my phone back against my ear.

“Sorry about that.”

Jamie’s sigh conveyed everything we never ventured even remotely close to these days. “I could have called you back. Hell, we could have talked about all this tomorrow.”

As I made my way out of the apartment building, I looked around for a cab. Thank God Blaine, Blake, whoever, lived in Midtown, where there was always a cab somewhere close when you needed one. “Nah, I told you before, your timing was perfect.”

“If you say so. How’s New York?”

I paused and looked down the quiet street. I could have answered that question so many ways, none of which would have helped lessen the distance between us.
New York is great.
I
just got laid.
What more could I want?
Or maybe
New York is the same.
But I’m wondering if that’s not enough anymore.
Or even
New York hasn’t been the same since you moved.
Nothing has been.

I made my way toward Forty-Second Street and hopefully a cab. “Same old, same old. You and Ethan should visit sometime.”

“I’d love that, Trev, but it’s not in the cards until Bistro 30 is more established. Or until we get a full-time sous-chef in place.”

Of course. Time to steer the conversation into safer waters. “How is Tyler?”

“He’s great. Just started classes at the Institute and working his ass off, but he’s a sponge. I swear I didn’t pick up things at his age half as quickly as he does.”

A voice cut into our conversation from the background. “You just needed the proper inspiration, Golden Boy!”

“And I thank the culinary gods every day, Ethan, for sending you to inspire me.”

I groaned. As happy as I was for Jamie, it was late, my body ached from not one but two workouts today and I needed some food. Everyone had their limits and I was steadily approaching mine.

“Hey J, I gotta let you go. I’m exhausted and I need to find a cab. My parents are cool, but I’m pretty sure even they wouldn’t like waking up to their son making headlines in the tabloids for passing out in the middle of Midtown. Tell Tyler I said good luck with his classes and not to take any of Ethan’s crap. I’ll email you the details of my trip this week so we can try to plan a dinner or two.”

Jamie’s laugh burst through my phone. “I can see it now. Trevor Pratt Makes a Pratt of Himself on Fifth Avenue. Yeah, I’m pretty sure your mom would kill you over that one. Be safe getting home and I’ll talk to you soon.”

The connection went dead before I could reply, but then again, what more would I have said? Jamie was there and I was here. We might not be as close as we once were, but we were still friends. After all the crap that had happened last year, that was a miracle in and of itself. We just needed more time to work out all the kinks. That was all.
And there’s some oceanfront property in Kansas you might want to look at.

I rounded the corner at Sixtieth and Lexington, grateful for the endless supply of Manhattan cabbies as I grabbed the first one that idled at the curb. “West Twenty-Ninth and Seventh.”

As the lights and buildings raced by, I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I needed my own pillow and mattress and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. But the closer we got to my condo, the more restless I became. Talking to Jamie and hearing how happy he and Ethan were had only emphasized that he’d moved on and I was still stuck in the same place I’d been for the past nine years. Leaving Blake’s had been a no-brainer, but the thought of going back to my empty condo had my brain scurrying for anything to quell the rising loneliness that surged inside me.

With only a few blocks left until we hit Seventh Avenue, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my list of contacts. As it started ringing, I pushed aside everything from the past year and focused on the here and now.

“My ass is too tired for you to come over for a booty call right now, Pratt. And that’s saying something, seeing as I’ve been trying for months to get a booty call from you. So, since we’re not hooking up in the next few hours, what couldn’t wait until, say, nine, when I’ll be more coherent?”

I pulled out two twenties for the cabbie and got out of the taxi. My building was trendy, expensive and perfectly located. And the thought of walking into it, knowing I’d be all alone, made me sick. I needed a friend. Specifically, a friend with benefits.

“My calendar suddenly cleared for next weekend.”

“And that means what exactly?”

I stared up the windows of my very dark and empty condo.

“Tell me about the place you’re taking me to in Reno this weekend.”

Chapter Three

Tyler
Last Week of October

Siouxsie and the Banshees crooned over the speakers in the kitchen. Ethan’s latest playlist included all his usual rock favorites, but he’d included a few themed songs to help get us in the mood for the holiday.

Halloween had always been my favorite holiday as a kid. I loved the candy and decorations, wandering around the neighborhood with my friends. But my favorite part had been the costumes. For one night, I could be anyone or anything I wanted to be, as long as I didn’t dress up as anything my parents considered deviant or satanic. For a few hours, I was able to forget I was Tyler Mitchell, perfect son of Marjorie and Ed Mitchell. Tyler Mitchell, who had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t all year long. Family or no family, at least now I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“Tyler, we need more cranberries from the back. Chef Martin’s need to dress as many of our dishes with cranberry sauce as possible has put a dent in our supply. So before we have an uprising of dissatisfied, cranberryless diners on our hands, I need to whip up a new batch for the other hundred plates that seem to require that extra special touch.”

Trying to suppress my laughter, I smiled and set my knife down. “Sure, Chef Lassiter.” Chef Martin threw his towel at his husband and feigned a hurt look. “What? It’s festive.”

“It looks like blood, E.”

Chef Martin smirked before turning back to his station. “Exactly. It’s festive.”

Cranberry relish. Fingerling potatoes. Pumpkin tarts and scones. Ethan and Jamie celebrated all the major holidays with their ever-changing custom menus, but they had gone over the top with their Halloween dishes and decorations.

“Back me up here, Tyler. I mean, I could have done the whole cold spaghetti and peeled grapes gag to add some panache to our dishes, but that idea got vetoed in our last meeting.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “The horror and injustice of it all is almost too much to bear, but I’m pretty confident you’ll recover, E.”

“Mock me all you want, Lassiter, but my cranberry relish is a hot item on the menu right now. And don’t even get me started on the decorations, because I still think Igor would look awesome in the dining room.”

My eyes suddenly went to the decoration next to the fryer station. In addition to the fresh pumpkins and gourds tastefully adorning the dining room, Ethan had strung up less tasteful but more entertaining decorations in the kitchen—including a life-size skeleton next to the fryers with a sign that read “Caution: Proper Attire is Required Around the Fryers. You Have Been Warned.” I had thanked the kitchen gods multiple times since it went up in early October I wasn’t scheduled for the fryer station until the week after Halloween.

I was just coming out of the storeroom when Ethan brushed past me with a scowl on his face. A harried-looking younger guy followed him, a clipboard clutched tightly in his hand and a look of pure fear on his face. I knew both of those looks. One said another delivery had just been screwed up. The other said someone wished he was anywhere but following a very pissed-off Ethan Martin.

“How do you forget the motherfucking potatoes? You’re a goddamn vegetable supplier.” Ethan groused as he worked himself up into one of his epic rants.

I went back to chopping my veggies for Witch’s Caldron Tortellini, which was Ethan’s Halloween version of pasta primavera. No sooner had my knife sliced through a bright red bell pepper than Siouxsie stopped singing. There was a brief moment of silence, then John Denver began serenading the staff about his Rocky Mountain high.

Jamie’s low laugh echoed behind me. “E will have your ass for that, you know.”

I turned to see who’d been stupid enough to touch Chef Martin’s remote. Trevor Pratt, Jamie’s friend and the guy who managed his career, leaned against the counter with the stereo remote still aimed at the iPod dock. His charcoal-gray Henley and faded blue jeans were a stark contrast to the rest of the kitchen staff’s chef whites. “Thanks for the warning, J, but I’m pretty sure that, as little as he works out, he couldn’t handle my ass on a good day.”

“You just love pissing him off.”

He shot Jamie a wicked smile as he laid the remote on the counter next to him. “I do enjoy poking the proverbial bear.”

As Jamie enveloped Trevor in a hug, Trevor’s snarky expression morphed into something gentler. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Jamie. When they pulled apart, Trevor’s smile was still there, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he turned away from Jamie and walked over to my station. I felt my heart speed up as he leaned against the counter next to me.

“Hey, Tyler. These guys being good to you?”

I kept my eyes trained on the cutting board as my brain suddenly blanked out. I wasn’t chatty on my best days, but put me in the room with an attractive guy and my mouth felt like it was filled with sand. Unable to form a coherent word, I simply nodded.

“Good. I know Ethan can be a major PITA, but I have faith Jamie can keep him in line.”

“
Trevor
.” Jamie’s voice held the same kind of exasperated warning it always did when Ethan was spazzing out in the kitchen.

I heard him snort, and looked up just in time to see him snatch a pepper off my board. “So, Jamie told me you started classes at the Culinary Institute. How are they going?”

He popped the pepper in his mouth and I watched, mesmerized, until he grinned at me.
Shit
. He’d caught me drooling over him. I jerked my gaze away and focused on chopping. Was he still staring? Wait, he’d asked me a question and I was still just standing there like an asshat.

“It’s good,” I croaked. I cleared the huge lump that had just formed in my throat and started over, my eyes still focused on anything but his face. “It’s good. We just started basic sauces, so that part is easy since Chef Martin taught me that stuff a year ago. It’s made this first semester less daunting.”

Trevor plucked another piece of pepper off my board but held on to it instead of taking a bite. “Shit. You do know that throws a total wrench in my plans, right?”

I set my knife down and looked over at him. “What plans?”

H leaned closer and mock-whispered in my ear. “My plans of thinking he’s a total bastard. But when I hear about him being a normal human being and taking care of you like you’re his family, well, that screws it all up.”

I wasn’t sure whether it was his smile or his words that made my stomach flutter—probably both—but all I wanted at that moment was to keep him talking, regardless of how idiotic I might sound.

“Well, there was this one time when one of my practice plates—”

“God dammit! Who fucked with my music? And why the hell is Trustfund chatting up my sous-chef?”

I looked up and caught Trevor’s wicked smile as he turned to face Ethan.

“Well hello to you, too, Ethan. I love the musical inspiration you have for your staff. Think I can get the playlist from you while I’m in town?”

“Fuck you, Trustfund. While you’re at it, get away from my sous-chef. He has more important things to do than entertain your sorry ass. And hand me my damn remote. I can only deal with one disaster at time and a ruined shipment of goat cheese and missing potatoes trumps your shitty taste in music any day.”

Trevor winked at me, then pushed away from my station to talk to Jamie again. Once the remote was in Ethan’s hand, Siouxsie resumed her exaltation of all things Halloween and the kitchen staff went back to their tasks.

I could feel the heat spread over my neck and cheeks as I returned my focus, or lack thereof, to the pepper in front of me. Trevor was gorgeous, rich and funny. He could walk into any room and both the men and women would fall for him. Everyone, that is, except Ethan, who generally wanted to throttle him.

Trevor put his hand on Jamie’s back. “Hey J. We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

I watched as Jamie tried to hold back his laugh when Ethan’s knife flew faster over the chopping block in front of him. Ethan was shit at trying to hide his frustration.

“Lunch sounds good, Trev. There’s a new café that specializes in seafood near the market I’d like to try out if you’re game.”

“Checking out the competition, huh? Want to see if there really are better fish in the ocean?”

Ethan’s knife paused over his chopping block. “There is no competition, Trustfund.”

It took everything I had not to laugh when Trevor reached out and patted Ethan on the cheek. “Got that message loud and clear at your wedding, sunshine.” Ethan tensed and I stopped stirring my burgundy sauce.

Jamie stepped between them. “Ethan, behave. Trevor was only kidding.” He turned to Trevor. “And you, knock it off. You’re the one who started this crap by touching his stereo.”

Ethan grumbled, but Jamie ignored him, giving him a quick kiss before he tossed his kitchen towel aside. “I’m taking a break to talk to Trevor about the promo stuff coming up and to give everyone a breather in here. It wouldn’t be good for business if we had added real blood to our menu.”

Jamie had almost pulled Trevor through the swinging doors when Trevor caught my eye one last time and winked. As quickly as it happened, it was over and the kitchen was suddenly too quiet.

“Alright everyone. Show’s over. Back to work.” Ethan pointed at me, scowling. “And you. Stay away from Trevor. You don’t want people like him in your life. Trust me on that.”

Eminem and Rihanna replaced Siouxsie on the stereo. Next to me, I heard Ethan’s litany of mumbled curses as he prepped his next batch of cranberries. “Fucking asshole...coming into my kitchen...show him what happens when...”

I loved Ethan, but right then I was getting a lot of satisfaction out of imagining the new guy forgetting to replace the fryer drain plug like I had before and turning the kitchen into an oily mess. I knew Ethan thought of me as a little brother, as someone he needed to take care of, but I wasn’t his little brother, and I didn’t need protecting.

For once, an attractive guy had talked to me. I knew it wasn’t anything more than Trevor being polite but it had felt nice to be singled out. Even better, it felt good to have a conversation with a guy as attractive as Trevor and not completely seize up. Small talk was difficult for me on the best of days, even within my small circle of friends. Small talk with a guy like Trevor? A year ago, I would have run to the storage room and hid out until after he left. But this time, I’d almost held my own.

Unable to hold it back any longer, I finally gave up the battle and let my smile loose. As the bell peppers fell into neat slices across the board, I hummed along with the music.