The Broken Triangle (29 page)

“You okay?” Vin asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Patrick hesitated. He wanted to apologize again for before, but he knew if he did, it would give Vin more information to fill in the blanks with. Vin was smart, and he’d figure it out sooner or later, whether he and Riley got back together or he found a new boyfriend.

Patrick didn’t want him to find a new boyfriend if it wasn’t him. But he also didn’t want Vin to go back to being alone. Vin deserved better.

“I’m good,” Vin said. “You know, not great, but I’ll get over him. It’s kind of weird, how I thought for so long he was the perfect guy for me, and then it turns out I was wrong. Makes me wonder what else I might have been wrong about.”

“He was an asshole,” Patrick said, thinking he was being loyal, then relented as soon as Vin frowned. “Okay, he wasn’t. I was even getting ready to try to be friends with him—not really friends; if anyone needs proof that sexuality isn’t enough in common for two people to get along, he and I were it. But he wasn’t good enough for you.”

“So who is?” Vin asked. “Anyone in your little black book you’d give the Patrick seal of approval to?”

Patrick gave a vehement shake of his head. If he owned an actual book like that, he’d burn it before letting Vin go near anyone in it. “No one I’ve ever been with is anywhere near what you deserve.”

“Same goes for you,” Vin said and touched Patrick’s face with his fingertips, a snowflake-light caress. “You should have someone perfect. Someone sexy and kind who sees you and loves you. Not the losers and users you usually go for.”

Patrick wasn’t sure he liked his choice of lovers being summed up that dismissively, but he couldn’t argue with the accuracy of Vin’s judgment. At the time, he hadn’t cared. He’d gotten out of it what he wanted, fooled himself sometimes that he’d clicked for real when deep down he knew he hadn’t, and moved on after a brief period of moping without a backward glance.

He couldn’t move past Vin. Hell, he couldn’t even move toward Vin without Vin backing away. And having Vin describe himself as Patrick’s ideal boyfriend wasn’t helping.

Time to put it out there. He’d been holding back, but if he missed his chance again, he might not get another.

He drew Vin over to a quieter area of the bar. “Listen, you’re right. About all of it. Who I should be with, how I’ve been settling for losers. But I’m not like that now. I’ve stopped picking up guys at random, and I’m ready to try something serious, with someone I care about. It scares the shit out of me, but I want it more than anything. I want him.”

He’d planned to say
you
, but his tongue had tangled at the last moment, and the safer
him
had slipped out. He was such a coward, but he hated being rejected, knowing he wasn’t good enough for someone.

“You’re in love with someone? For real? That’s why all the changes?” Vin’s dark eyes widened with surprise. He swallowed, the small sound audible because they were standing so close, then bit down hard on his lip, teeth digging into soft flesh, before asking, “Who?”

Part of Patrick wanted to kiss Vin again so badly he was light-headed with need. The rest of him was terrified. He shouldn’t have taken this conversation as far as he had, and what he wanted to do now was… Well, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He could fake passing out realistically, but knowing him, he’d hit his funny bone on the way down and end up rolling around on the floor whimpering.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Sure you can,” Vin said. Somehow it felt as if it were just the two of them in the room and no one else existed. “It’s me.” For a second, Patrick thought Vin did know, and felt like he might faint, but then Vin went on. “You know you can tell me anything.”

But he couldn’t. If he told Vin, things between them would change, and if he couldn’t have Vin as a boyfriend, Patrick couldn’t bear the thought of not having him as a friend. Later, when his life was a little more together, when he could come a little closer to deserving Vin, then he could tell him. Maybe.

Shelly—wonderful, amazing Shelly—came over and interrupted. “Hey, you,” she said, taking Patrick’s hand. “I’m out of here. If you still want that ride I promised you, say good night to your BFF and grab your coat.”

With an apologetic shrug for Vin and a wave directed at everyone else in the room, Patrick grabbed his chance along with his coat and hustled his ass out the door before he could do or say anything he’d regret in the morning.

Which made this Christmas Eve one hell of a lot different from the last three or four.

“A soup kitchen?” Vin knew his surprise was unflattering, but he couldn’t help it. “On Christmas Day? Really?”

Patrick hunched a shoulder, his gaze on everything but Vin’s face as they made their way through the crowded mall to the movie theater at its center. “Just for a couple of hours. I didn’t do any cooking; you know I suck at it. I helped serve and with the cleanup. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do, and most places were closed. I walk past it every day, and I knew they needed people. Not sure I’ll go back, though. Unless I’m on the other side of the counter.”

The bleakness behind Patrick’s words took Vin’s breath away. Volunteering at a shelter on Christmas Day was something Patrick should feel proud about, but he’d only told Vin after being prodded. Vin hadn’t heard from him since Christmas Eve, his increasingly worried texts unanswered until that morning.

“That’s not going to happen. You’re working; you’re saving. You’re doing okay.”

A couple went by, their hands full of bags crammed with everything from clothing to kitchenware. Patrick twisted his head as they passed, watching them walk away. “Look at them! They probably spent hours opening gifts, and here it is, the twenty-seventh, and they’re buying more stuff. What’s
wrong
with people?”

A year before, it would’ve been Patrick darting from sale to sale, exclaiming over markdowns, cooing over a find. Vin didn’t point that out. And he didn’t launch into any of the stories about his Christmas that he’d planned to share. Patrick didn’t need to hear about how happy Vin had felt to be surrounded by the unconditional love of his family.

A family who’d asked about Riley, then, when he’d haltingly told them about the breakup, had taken a collective breath and unleashed a comprehensive denunciation of Riley’s actions. They’d stopped when he’d begged them to change the subject, the tears he’d refused to shed welling up, but he’d been spoiled even more than usual, if that was possible.

And he’d eaten so much he planned to skip the popcorn, until they walked past someone in the lobby of the movie theater with an overflowing bucket of it, and the salty, buttery smell made Vin’s mouth water.

“Help me eat some popcorn?” he said, sure Patrick would agree if he couched it in terms of doing him a favor.

“Okay, but you have to let me pay for half.”

With no way to refuse, Vin asked for a medium instead of a large and only accepted two of the three dollars Patrick thrust at him. “That’s more than half. It was my idea.”

Patrick made a face but didn’t otherwise protest, which was good. Vin wanted them to do stuff together without encouraging Patrick to spend more than he should, which was what had prompted Patrick’s Christmas gift. His wide smile when he’d opened the box and found the movie theater gift card tucked inside had been one of the things that made Vin feel better about the whole holiday season.

“Patrick?” It was a girl’s voice from behind them, and by the time Vin finished paying and turned to see who it was, Patrick was already hugging her. “And Vin, right?”

“Marnie gave us a ride home from that party, remember?” Patrick asked. He was obviously trying to be diplomatic by not mentioning Riley. Vin appreciated it, even though it was unnecessary.

“I’m lucky I remember, considering how drunk I was,” Vin said, shaking her hand. “Hi.” Wow, she was pretty. If he’d been at all interested in girls, he’d have been drooling over her. As it was, he could still get pleasure in looking at her, because she was smiling at Patrick with unaffected delight, and it made the close-to-airbrushed perfection of her face real and warm.

“So no Riley?” Marnie glanced around expectantly, and Vin found himself searching the throng with her, wondering if Marnie had seen him earlier in the mall. Would he know if Riley was near him, some primal instinct alerting him? Probably not.

Patrick cleared his throat and said what Vin couldn’t bring himself to say. “Uh, Riley isn’t in the picture right now.”

“What? Oh my God, I’m sorry.” Marnie screwed up her face apologetically, covering glossy dark pink lips with her hand. “Putting my foot in it again. Oops.”

“Not your fault,” Vin said. “It happened a few days ago. We realized it wasn’t working out.”

She didn’t leap into a denunciation of Riley or offer him any meaningless comfort, for which he was grateful. “That happens. So here we are, three beautiful young people about to see… No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

She spun on her heel to study the movies on offer, listed on a display above the concession stand. It was a high heel, attached to the softest of caramel leather boots. Vin didn’t know enough about fashion to price them or even name the designer, but he was sure Patrick could tell him.

“I could cheat and pick one that’s about to start, but where’s the fun in that? Hmm. Kiddies’ cartoon. No. Rom-com.” She pointed at Patrick. “You, maybe. Vin, no.” She pursed her lips, moving to the next listing. “That one’s been out for ages. If you’d wanted to see it, you already would have, and it wasn’t good enough for anyone to see twice. How am I doing so far?”

“They were easy,” Vin said, enjoying the game. “Now it gets harder.”

“Okay.” Marnie looked again. “Definitely not the depressing foreign film. Patrick doesn’t like subtitles.”

Patrick seemed surprised but nodded. “Yeah, not so much.”

“Unless it’s the right movie,” Vin reminded him. “You liked that French one about the gay guys. With the greenhouse, remember?”

“That was an exception,” Patrick agreed, then explained to Marnie, “There was kissing. Plus it was a good story.”

“You’ll have to write that one down for me,” she said to Vin. “Okay, Vin’s not a Tom Cruise fan, I don’t think.”

Now that was a little more than a lucky guess; Vin was finding himself more and more fascinated by this girl. “Why do you think I don’t like Tom Cruise?”

“Well, people fall into two categories with him, don’t they? They either like him, or they don’t like him. You think he’s in the closet, and you have a hard time with people who aren’t honest. Am I right?” Her eyes sparkled when he nodded.

“Then I think it’s a toss-up between
Les Miz
and
The Hobbit
, and I’m going to go with the musical, because it’s got Hugh Jackman, not to mention Amanda Seyfried, and I don’t know a single guy straight or gay who doesn’t think she’s hot.”

With a grin, Patrick showed her his ticket, and she crowed with laughter. “Knew it! And so am I, but my girlfriend ditched me at the last minute to go skiing—which translates as getting drunk and laid at altitude, not sea level.” She gave them an appealing look that stopped just short of eyelash fluttering. “I hate going to movies solo. Really hate it. I feel like there’s this big neon arrow pointing at the lonely loser with no friends. Would you two mind if I sat with you? And you can say no without hurting my feelings if this is a date, because they’ve already got the Valentine stuff out on the shelves, so I’m feeling romantically inclined.”

The quick patter of words was like standing out in heavy rain. Vin shook himself dry, metaphorically speaking, and gave Patrick an inquiring look. He could read Patrick easily enough, and the flash of disappointment was a surprise, but the quick smile and shrug that followed were what Vin had been expecting.

“It’s not a date, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Marnie smiled at them. “You two are just the sweetest. One last favor. Even if I beg, don’t let me have any popcorn. In fact, I want to sit as far away from it as possible. I’ve put on three pounds already. Three!”

“Girl, if you did, they went in all the right places,” Patrick told her.

“Anyway, I’m on a strict diet now.” She gestured them closer and stage-whispered, “I have a bottle of water in my bag. No way am I paying four dollars for one here.”

Vin was liking her more and more. Pretty and practical? “Come on. Patrick will complain like crazy if he misses the previews.”

“Me too! But I promise I won’t talk during the movie.”

They got themselves into the theater and settled into seats, with Patrick in the middle between Vin and Marnie.

Vin had sat snuggled up to Patrick on a couch too many times to count, but before the lights lowered, Patrick reached over and patted Vin’s knee in a familiar, affectionate way that made Vin’s stomach do a weird and totally unexpected flip. Before he could react, the theater went dark, the intimacy of the setting deepening.

Vin found himself acutely conscious of the man beside him in a way he’d never been before. It didn’t make sense. Everyone in the crowded theater was looking at the screen, including Patrick, but Vin was watching Patrick—the animated face, the teased, spiked hair, the familiar line of his profile. Nothing had changed, but Vin was shockingly aware that something was different, like Patrick’s touch had electrified him in some way.

He’d been told to hold the popcorn, and that meant every so often Patrick thrust his hand into the tub resting on Vin’s lap and snagged a handful. The first time he did it, Vin gasped, a soundless exhalation of shock, reacting as if the popcorn didn’t exist and Patrick’s hand was going to keep going, heading for Vin’s groin, closing over his cock.

What was
wrong
with him? He gripped the arms of his seat, thankful for the empty space to his left, and tried to keep his breathing even. Patrick was always quick to pick up on Vin’s moods, and if he turned his head and caught Vin watching him, it would be awkward as hell.

It didn’t seem to matter. Vin knew if Patrick looked at him, things were going to get messy and fast, but he couldn’t stop. He thanked his lucky stars that the movie was loud, the singing louder, the theater dark, his growing erection hidden underneath the cardboard popcorn bucket. Keeping his head turned toward the screen, Vin watched Patrick out of the corner of his eye. Patrick’s tongue flicked out to lick lips that were salty from the popcorn, maybe a little bit greasy.