Page 24 of Heat Transfer
The infamous columns came into view, the spotlights highlighting them. I followed the train of cars. It was clear valetwas happening for this gala. The event was already too rich for my blood, but thankfully, I’d have Cor by my side.
I pulled up to the valet, got out, and handed over my keys. It wasn’t until I got out of my car that a realization set in. I was going to a function with a guy. Would people look at me differently? My skin prickled with a separate set of nerves, but the moment Cor looped around to my side and extended his arm, I didn’t hesitate and slid mine through his. His touch, his presence, his calmness sliced through all those jitters.
Who cared if people thought I was queer? Carly had invited me and my “boyfriend,” and I’d never see any of these people at the gala again.
Besides, if these feelings emerging from slumber within me happened to stick around, I’d have to get used to being seen in a different light.
Given that everyone had always looked at me like a freak for my seizures as a kid, I was a pro at that.
“You sure you want to do this?” Cor asked as if he sensed my tension.
“Think of the swords, Cor.”
Up ahead, the steps were lit up, and those columns glowed. Seeing the art museum at night like this was an experience in and of itself, and I hadn’t wanted to pass for that reason alone. IT workers didn’t often get invited to fancy shindigs. Icarus Tech might throw a Christmas party every year, but we weren’t a Fortune 500 company.
We followed the couples up the stairs. Everyone was dressed to the fucking nines—which made me relived that Cor and I had gone suit shopping beforehand. We probably still stuck out like sore thumbs among people who knew labels and such, but we weren’t here for them—just to make nice with Carly and get up close and personal with historical stabby shit.
The long staircase leading up to the museum gave me enough of a workout, but of course Cor wasn’t even breathing heavier. Fine, then. I wanted to blend into the background here—something I wanted to do for most of my life, given my spotlight for all the wrong reasons—however, Cor and I already garnered a few long glances. Chances were, it wasn’t about our suits not being designer.
I clutched his arm a little harder, irritation rising within me. If anything, their looks made me want to get handsier with him. As if I needed the fuel to my fire.
We stepped through the doors, and all thoughts melted away. I’d been to the Art Museum plenty of times, but I’d never seen it like this before. The gala was set up in the Great Stair Hall, right at the entrance. The room was darker, lit with blue and gold spotlights that created a breathtaking ambiance. Tables stretched out in antechambers, while some were stationed on the upper floor. People meandered around the place, the low thrum of their voices mingling with the smooth jazz band playing on a small stage in the corner.
A few folks sat at the centerpiece-laden tables, but for the most part, people seemed to be wandering. I scanned the area, searching for a sign of Carly.
“What do you say we find the bar?” Cor asked. “I’m already feeling like a party crasher.”
“Damn, me too.” I grinned. Still, there was no one else I’d rather have by my side. The realization struck me hard in the chest.
We wandered into an antechamber to the left. A short line lay in one direction, which tipped me off. I swept Cor over there.
“Want a beer?” I asked. “Or something fancier?”
“Let’s go with scotch tonight. Might as well fit the vibe, right?” Cor said, his blue eyes twinkling.
“As long as you’re comfortable with driving me back. I’d say I could handle my scotch, but that’d be a lie.”
Cor slipped his arm around my waist while we waited in line, and I leaned in.
“Yeah, I’ll get us to your place,” Cor said. His warm breath puffed against the shell of my ear, and a shiver rolled down my spine. If we weren’t waiting in the bar line, I’d close the space between us and give in to temptation.
We reached the front of the line all too fast, and I ordered. “Two scotches on the rocks.”
The bartender was an older guy in a black vest and perfectly pressed slacks. I was pretty sure he’d dressed better than I did, but whatever, this was one night. I wasn’t going to make myself broke over my attire.
He poured them with ease, handed them over to me, and I slipped to the side with our bounty. I passed Cor his scotch and lifted mine to my lips, needing the liquid courage for…well, all of tonight. The smoky taste hit my lips, followed by that melting burn as it coursed down my throat.
“So, do we have to linger around for appetizers or something? Or can we go sneak over to see the exhibits?” Cor asked. I led us toward a wall so we could lean rather than stand in anyone’s way.
“Honestly, if I don’t spot Carly in the next few minutes, we’re saying ‘fuck this shit’ and finding the exhibits. I’m not here to talk to—” My gaze landed on a guy who looked familiar. “Wait, is that Jake Lippincott?”
“The medieval weapons expert who’s always on the History Channel? Where?” Cor shifted to follow my gaze, inadvertently bringing his body flush against mine. I didn’t quite grind against him, but I leaned against all that bulk. I wasn’t sure I’d survive tonight, especially with the way I kept catching whiffs of hiscologne—even though I liked him sweaty and covered in dust and dirt all the same.
“Apparently, there might be people of interest here,” I said, which was unexpected. I’d figured the folks attending would just be stuffy and rich.
“Felix, is that you?” Carly’s voice sounded from my right, and I wheeled in that direction. She approached, looking gorgeous with glossy black hair pulled into a low chignon and a crimson dress that framed her curves and matched her lips. An equally pretty blonde walked alongside her, her pale green dress with a slight shimmer bringing out her blue eyes.
“This her?” Cor asked. I nodded, and sweat broke on my palms. If a major client found out I’d lied, it wouldn’t further my career. Here was to hoping Cor and I could pull off being boyfriends.