After too many hours of watching a clock move too slowly, Blake emailed Jason from the train station to let him know he was on his way home. After the longest train ride ever, he got into his car and broke at least a dozen laws between the parking garage and his house.
In his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie, but didn’t bother changing clothes yet. Instead, he sat on the bed with his laptop and logged into Skype.
Within minutes, Goldenboy_Jason appeared.
Then the screen changed, and . . . there he was. He looked tired, but better than while he’d been sick, and though it might’ve been the lighting, Blake swore Jason was tanned.
Whatever the case, seeing him now did strange things to Blake’s pulse. Had it really only been two weeks since they’d seen each other? Why the hell did it feel like years? Like when he ran into his old crush at their ten-year high school reunion, and it had hit him how much time had passed?
Blake smiled, and found enough breath to say, “Hey. It’s been a while.” Has it been that long since I’ve touched you?
Jason smiled too, a little sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been scarce. One of my clients was apparently trying to reach me while I was in America, and as soon as I got here, he wanted to take me on a trip.”
Something twisted in Blake’s chest. “A trip?”
Jason nodded. “Just flew in this morning from Santorini.”
“Santorini?” Blake grinned despite that tightness getting even more uncomfortable. “That must’ve been gorgeous.”
“Oh, it was. I’ll have to show you some photos when you’re back in the City.”
Blake forced a smile. “I can’t wait.”
Silence fell, and it was almost getting awkward before Jason cleared his throat and asked, “So how have you been? It’s, um, been a while.”
Too long.
“I’ve been all right.” Blake laughed halfheartedly. “Seems someone infected me with a respiratory bug, though.”
Jason grimaced. “Sorry.”
“I’ll live. I assume you recovered well enough?”
“I did. The flight back wasn’t pleasant, but I was fine by the time I left for—” He chewed his lip, avoiding Blake’s gaze for a second. “Yes, it cleared up, thankfully.”
“Good. Good.”
The silence set in and wouldn’t move. After an uncomfortable moment, Jason glanced at his phone, and scowled. “Well, it’s late here. I suppose I should sleep. Frank wants me back at Market Garden tomorrow night.”
That tightness behind Blake’s ribs was going to start creating diamonds at this rate. “No rest for the weary?”
“Afraid not.” Jason smiled. “It was good speaking to you.”
“Likewise. I should have an itinerary for my next trip soon, so I’ll keep you posted.”
“Brilliant. Looking forward to it.”
So am I. More than you know.
After they’d signed off, Blake stared at the screen for a long time, and then made himself close the laptop and go get some dinner. All the while, though, he replayed the conversation over and over in his mind. And every time he imagined Jason at Market Garden tomorrow night, a sick feeling swept over him. It wasn’t jealousy. Well . . . maybe it was, but he wasn’t angry or resentful. He wasn’t even surprised—after all, this was what Jason did. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how or why he felt this way. Or what exactly it was he felt. If anything, it was a twitchy panic. As if whoever caught Jason’s eye tomorrow night might whisk him off to Santorini, or Dubai, or New York. And maybe it wouldn’t be ten days this time. Maybe longer. A john had already bought him a penthouse, and though that one had creeped Jason out, there was always the possibility of someone else coming along and really winning him over.
Tick, tick, tick, went the doomsday clock in his brain. Every minute Blake let slip by was one more chance for someone else to sweep Jason away forever.
And why the hell did that bother him so much?
He couldn’t even begin to tell himself it was because he’d grown to enjoy being with Jason the way he had with Tristan and Jared. They’d been hot, but this was something else entirely.
And as that panic inched its way to the surface again, he realized he needed Jason to know that. What Jason did with the information was beyond his control, but somehow, it needed to be said. Soon.
That night, Blake couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been this restless in ages, tossing and turning as if he’d had a hit of espresso right before bed. The next morning, stuck in a meeting at work, he was exhausted bordering on catatonic, but he couldn’t sit still. In his office afterward, he couldn’t remember anything that had been discussed. Instead of focusing on his job, he constantly itched to get to his laptop so he could send Jason an email telling him . . . what, exactly? He knew what he felt—right?—but when he was in front of his computer, he’d freeze up. The words didn’t come.
Probably because they shouldn’t be said at all. Because he was crazy. And the minute he started typing or talking, Jason would know he was crazy.
Hell, maybe he needed to know that. But if Blake didn’t get this off his chest soon, he was going to go even crazier than he already had.