The Honeymoon Gambit (Catalina Dreams Book 2), page 11
The driver gave him a little salute, hopped back into his cart, and drove away.
“I’m fine,” Todd insisted, but he grimaced just a little when he took a step. He could walk all right. He was just limping slightly. It was only a scrape and a bump of a bruise under his knee.
“I still think you bruised the bone,” Eric said under his breath. He had brought this up before. He wrapped an arm around Todd’s waist, helping him along as they made their way through the sliding doors of the hotel’s entrance.
“I didn’t bruise the bone, weirdo,” Todd said. “It would be way worse if I had.”
“You should hang out in the hot tub tonight. That might help.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
He also wouldn’t argue with Eric holding him as they headed for the elevators. Just this was something, and he leaned heavily on Eric, greedy for the contact. Eric held him like he was important and even if the whole incident had been embarrassing, maybe it was worth it just for the way he could feel Eric’s muscles flexing around him, squeezing him tight as they stood in the elevator even though Todd could surely stand by himself.
“Eric—”
“Hold on.”
Todd grunted, annoyed, just as the elevators dinged, and the doors slid open to their floor.
“I think we should talk,” Todd said. He might have leaned more heavily on Eric than was strictly required. “I mean we talked but… I feel like…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Eric said, sighing as they jointly staggered down the hall to their suite. “It’s not your fault.” He slipped the keycard into its slot and the light blinked green.
“What’s not my fault?”
“Nothing,” Eric muttered. “No, I know we have to talk. I want to tell you something. I just ah… Let’s get you settled first.”
Todd let himself be half-dragged into the bedroom where he flopped back on the bed and sighed. He was wearing the t-shirt he’d slipped in the bag and remained in his trunks that still felt too small. His knee ached, and he tried to remember if he’d seen Ibuprofen anywhere…
“Do you need anything?” Eric said, hovering at the door. “Does your knee hurt? Are you hungry? Do you need some ice? Or a drink? Maybe a drink would be nice? Maybe—”
“Eric.” Todd sat up and fought off a smile. “You’re freaking out. I’m going to order room service. Some Ibuprofen would be great if you’ve got it. I don’t think I have any. Would you like me to order you something?” He spoke slowly, half afraid that Eric might combust.
“Uh um…”
Eric was practically vibrating, and Todd smiled to himself.
He suspected he might have a shot with Eric Yoo after all.
“I’ll pick something for you,” Todd said.
“Okay. Good.” Eric nodded. “Okay. I don’t have Ibuprofen either. I’ll go back downstairs and find you some!”
“No, wait—”
But he was already gone.
15
Eric
Eric felt like Todd had just stripped away every piece of armor he’d built up for himself over the course of his entire life. It had started happening when Todd told him “not to worry” and Todd nearly drowning had finished it all right off.
But that was fine. Because he had a mission.
Find Ibuprofen!
He was still in his trunks, having thrown on a tank top back on the boat. Except he was wearing flip-flops, and they were difficult to run in as he raced back out of the suite, stumbling when he remembered to find his wallet in the gym bag he’d dropped by the door.
Todd was right. He tripped when he wore flip-flops. But how did Todd know so much about him? How had Todd wormed his way into Eric’s heart at all?
Eric scurried to the elevator and, edgy, bounced on his toes, avoiding his own reflection in the mirrored doors. The elevator stopped at other floors and guests stepped in and out as Eric growled under his breath. Didn’t they know that Todd had almost died? Didn’t they know that Eric had just come way too close to losing the guy he’d just realized was the love of his life?
“Excuse me, please?” Eric said, shoving the other guests when the elevator hit the ground floor. People grumbled around him and on some level, he knew he was being rude. But he didn’t care. He had a mission: Ibuprofen. He was the Terminator, and he was built for one function: find a decent pain reliever for Todd Ellis. He could think about the whole being-in-love-with-Todd-Ellis thing later.
On the ground floor, Eric wandered around, looking for the gift shop he was sure must exist somewhere near the lobby. Except that it didn’t. There was only another lounge, a cafe, and a coffee cart. Eric sighed heavily and went outside where the sun seemed too sharp in his eyes. He squinted up and down both ends of Crescent Avenue and walked south on a whim.
It took six blocks, and he tripped several times in his flip-flops before he found a place; an average little drug store with a salmon-colored storefront.
The place was packed. Every tourist in Avalon seemed to need new sunglasses or sunscreen or Band-Aids. Eric clenched his fists at his sides, and flip-flopped around the store, passing five aisles before he found the pain relievers.
Except there was no Ibuprofen in sight.
“How is this possible!” Eric blurted, startling a few people nearby. They stared, and he ignored them, pushing his hair back as he scanned the shelf for some goddamn Ibuprofen. For some reason, the Tylenol was shelved next to Bic pens, batteries, and shaving cream... even though the sign on the aisle said Pain Relievers.
“You okay, man?”
The guy looked young and cute, if Eric were honest. His black hair curled under his ears and he fixed Eric with a smirk from beneath his shades. He grabbed Tylenol off the shelf, raising his eyebrows at Eric.
“You look a little... tense,” the guy said. “What’re you looking for? Wendy shelves stuff totally randomly sometimes. But you’re in luck. I speak Wendy.”
Eric forced himself to take a deep breath. He smiled tightly at his little helper, who leaned on the shelf, smiling up at him as if he had no cares in the world. “I’m just looking for some Ibuprofen.”
“Oh!” The guy nodded toward another aisle. “I think I saw Ibuprofen over by the bubble bath. Let’s look before you have a heart attack.” He stuck out his hand for Eric to shake. “I’m Andy.”
“Uh... hello.” Eric shook his hand, and the expectations of social conventions calmed him... slightly. “I’m Eric.”
“You’re freaking out is what you are,” Andy said dryly. “Why don’t you take a deep breath, buddy?” He’d stopped at the end of the aisle and Eric’s heart rate spiked, his pulse pounding. Tears welled up in his eyes and he glared at the all too relaxed young man, leveling him with a calm gaze.
“I don’t have time to take a deep breath!” Eric shouted, throwing up his hands. “You always think there’s time and then there’s not and suddenly he’s drowning and he could have died and all this time I could have been with him, but I didn’t even know how I felt and now I can tell him, which is just going to be great when he rejects me because I’m a human icicle according to my ex, and nobody wants to be with a human icicle!”
Now everyone was staring.
Eric abruptly shut his mouth. Every inch of his skin burned with embarrassment. Tourists and townies alike cast him faintly worried expressions as they went about their business.
“Wow.” Andy blinked at him. He wore a t-shirt with a grinning tiger on it and the tiger seemed to leer at Eric. Andy pushed his shades up so they rested on his head. “A lot to unpack there. But let’s work on finding you the Ibuprofen first.”
“I apologize,” Eric said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, following Andy to an aisle full of varieties of bubble baths, cat food, and (mercifully) Ibuprofen. “I never have outbursts like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Andy grabbed a small bottle of generic gel caps off the shelf and handed them to Eric. “If I had to guess, I think it’s that you’re in love with some guy and you’re all emotionally constipated about it. And for the record, you really don’t seem like an icicle at all.”
Eric took the Ibuprofen and stared blankly at the little white bottle. “I never do this,” he said quietly. “I don’t burst out like this and make a scene. Never. I’m very professional.”
“Well, this is no time to be professional,” Andy said. “This is love, baby. Go explode all over your drowning victim. Get laid!”
“I thought he was going to die,” Eric murmured, wandering over to the cashier line. “Um... thanks. For the help. Sorry I exploded.”
“No problem,” Andy said. He slipped his shades back on. “And if you ever need a pedi-cab ride, just wave me down.” Andy whistled as he walked away.
The line for the cashier was long, and full of everyone who had just watched Eric flip out. He could swear a few people backed away slightly, as if afraid he might explode again at any moment.
Eric attempted to ignore them and took out his phone, pretending he had important texts.
He was impatient to get Todd his pain reliever and simultaneously terrified of whatever might happen next as the line inched forward.
The last thing he was thinking about was work. By the time his phone buzzed and he saw a text from Alphonso, he was in such a daze it took him a minute to remember who the hell Alphonso was.
Eric- we’ve come to the difficult decision that Stackler will stay on to handle our acc. Hope you understand. No hard feelings.
Eric stared at the text, trying to make sense of it. He processed the words, absorbing their meaning... and felt nothing. Stackler had brought in the account. He’d opened the jar... after Eric had loosened it for him over the course of months, slowly developing a relationship with Jordan. The account should have been his. But it wasn’t. And... so what?
The line moved and Eric stepped up to the cashier behind the high pharmacist counter. He pocketed his phone and slid the bottle of Ibuprofen across the formica to the waiting cashier.
“Just this, please,” he said. He took out his wallet and handed her his card. “No bag.”
A thought occurred to Eric, and he gasped, scrambling to take his phone back out and texted Alphonso as the cashier ran his card.
Eric texted back: Will you still use Todd?
The cashier handed him his Ibuprofen, card, and receipt and he nodded his thanks, impatient for a reply from Alphonso. He fumbled with his things and sighed, shoving the bottle of Ibuprofen and receipt in his trunks pocket as he flip-flopped back through the store, clutching his phone against his chest. He dropped his wallet and grunted, agitated.
It took him a minute to compose himself as he imagined tracking down the Gigis on their yacht before they even returned to the hotel just to give them a piece of his mind.
He had never been a violent person in the least.
But he was not above grabbing someone by the lapels.
Eric was outside, flopping his way back down to The Delinea, when his phone buzzed again.
Yes, we’re looking forward to Todd’s pitch. Again, I’m sorry.
Eric smiled when he read the text.
He’d lost the account.
But it hardly mattered.
There were always other accounts, and Todd would be fine.
16
Todd
Todd ordered early dinners from room service. He opted for light pasta dishes with chicken and side salads. Then he hobbled over to the mini-bar and retrieved ice for his knee and an airplane bottle of Grey Goose, which he drank in one soothing swallow.
Todd was restless.
He would have paced, but his knee hurt too badly for it to bring any comfort. He would have taken a soak in the hot tub, but the food was on its way. Instead, he plopped down on the sofa with his laptop and scanned his pitch for Wind-Up Shoes. It was the last campaign he’d worked on before the Gigi stuff had come flying out of nowhere. He reread his pitch and went over that presentation for the tenth time. It needed no revisions. He opened the Gigi pitch instead and skimmed his new pitch, biting his lip and adding in changes here and there.
He wondered if he could make Eric part of the pitch. The Gigis seemed to like them as a couple. Maybe he could rework part of the campaign into being about the two of them together. Then Alphonso and Jordan would have to keep them on. How Stackler had skeeved his way into their good graces, he couldn’t imagine. Eric Yoo was worth a hundred Stacklers. If it came down to it, Todd would tell them that to their faces.
Todd forced himself to shut his laptop and lay back on the sofa, thinking of Eric kissing his fingers and doting over him. He’d almost seemed panicked, as if Todd was just that important to him.
“Don’t get excited,” Todd said to himself.
It was so easy to get swept up, what with the fake relationship and the kiss and the blow-job. But maybe Eric was just a much more caring person than he seemed once you got him out of the office. For sure, he could be more lighthearted, sweet, funny, endearing…
Todd could still remember the slow, dopey smile that had spread across Eric’s face when Todd visited him in the hospital after his appendix burst.
“Todd!” Eric had reached out his hand for Todd to take. He’d looked happier than Todd had ever seen him, at that point. “You came. You’re so nice.”
Of course, he was drugged out of his mind at the time.
There was a knock at the door and Todd sighed, staggering to his feet to let in room service. The porter set everything out on the dining table for them and Todd tipped him well before sitting down to eat his salad.
He checked his phone. Eric was taking a long time...
When the door burst open, Todd sat up with a jerk and his heart started racing in his chest as if set off by the shot of a starting gun.
“I found you Ibuprofen!” Eric skidded into the room and kicked off his flip-flops.
Todd watched him from the dining nook and squinted at the sight of Eric’s flip-flops lying haphazardly on the rug as Eric trotted over, clutching a little white plastic bottle.
Eric was never so careless. Todd had come to look fondly on the way he so carefully kept things ordered. And unlike the way he always sneered at Todd’s messy office back at work, he didn’t grumble or complain that Todd was messy. He simply tidied things up. If Todd didn’t know better, he’d think Eric enjoyed tidying up after someone.
Now he was throwing his flop-flops around.
It was startling.
Eric snapped the cap off the bottle and grabbed a knife from the room service spread, poking a hole in the foil. Todd held his hand out and Eric let two capsules spill out. He scowled at the sight of the wine on the table.
“Maybe you shouldn’t take this with alcohol,” Eric said.
“Eric, it’s Ibuprofen, not Ambien.” He tossed the caps in his mouth and washed them down with ice water.
“Right.” Eric was still in his trunks and his thin, damp tank top.
Todd casually looked him up and down, getting his fill of Eric’s body. Soon enough they’d be back at work and it would be suits and the occasional sexy yoga outfit. And Eric would probably slip back into his usual self; hyper-competent, sharply intelligent, and infinitely agitated with Todd Ellis…
For now, his brow furrowed as he eyed Todd worriedly. “Are you feeling better?” he said softly, still leaning against the table near Todd.
Todd thought of those lips kissing his knuckles and nodded. “Mm. I’m fine, Eric. I told you.”
“You sure you didn’t hit your head?” Eric said.
And then he leaned over and felt around Todd’s head, running his hand through Todd’s hair and feeling for supposed bumps. Todd reflexively leaned into the touch, but just as quickly Eric moved his hand away and jerked back, as if suddenly realizing what he’d done.
“Let’s eat,” Eric said. “I’m starved.”
Todd took a deep breath and forced himself to eat his salad, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that grew on his face even as Eric sat across from him and poured himself a glass of water.
“Oh!” Eric chirped and smiled at him across the table. “Chicken Diane. That’s my favorite. Did I put that in the dossier?”
“No!” Todd snorted and shoved his empty salad plate away, sliding his seafood pasta over instead. “No, it wasn’t in the damn dossier. How many times do I have to tell you, I know you, Eric? Every time we order lunch from Ralphio’s, you get the goddamn Chicken Diane. If we order from Sepan Chicken, you get the shawarma wrap. You love curry tofu, but you don’t think you’re good at making it. Which it’s just striking me now might be the reason I taught myself to make decent curried tofu in case…”
Todd shut his mouth, his brow an angry little furrow as he stared down at his pasta. He twirled his fork around the angel hair and stabbed at some scallops, grimacing.
“Why did you teach yourself to make good curry?” Eric gazed at him over the table and his voice was so hopeful that all Todd could do was sigh.
“In... case you came over for dinner.” He shrugged and stabbed another scallop. Stupid scallops. “I guess. Is why. Then I could make you something you liked. But I like making it too. And my roommate likes it.”
“Putnam. I remember his name. Why would I come over dinner?” Eric said.
He blinked at Todd, guileless. Eric took a sip of water, waiting on his answer.
“Well, I don’t know, Eric,” Todd said. He stuffed another bite of pasta in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I guess I thought we could be friends.”
“But why didn’t you- oh.” Eric sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes heavenward. “I forgot to tell you. Alphonso texted while I was out at the drugstore. I’m off the account. It’s Stackler’s after all.”
Eric scarfed down half his dinner as Todd stared at him, waiting for some barely contained burst of righteous anger. But Eric only ate his Chicken Diane and drank his wine.
