Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

with obvious curiosity, and I did my best to incinerate him with my eyes. I failed, unfortunately. He turned away to open Cole’s wine and pour it. I couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but when he turned back around, he placed the glass in front of Cole on a cocktail napkin. I had a mere second to see that there was a phone number written on it before Cole picked it up and put it in his pocket. “Thanks, sweetie,” he said, winking at him and handing him two twenty dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
    “You are unbelievable,” I hissed at him as we walked away.
    “Good lord, love. What is your problem? Did you see me ask for his number? No. And even if I had, it’s not exactly your business anyway, is it?”
    “It’s not the number! It’s—” I stopped short, because the truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Yes, the phone number had bothered me, as had the obviously giant tip he had given in exchange.
    But it was his blatant dismissal of me that pissed me off more. On the other hand, I was being honest enough with myself to accept that almost everything he did was rubbing me the wrong way tonight. It was unfair to attack him for it. I made myself stop and count to five. I drank my wine, and we pointedly ignored each other until it was time to find our seats.
    Intermission passed much the same way, and although Trey was busy pouring drinks, I saw the looks they gave each other when we picked up the wine Cole had ordered ahead of time.
    “So,” Cole said in an obvious effort to cut the tension between us,
    “have you seen this play before?”
    “No. But it’s very popular.”
    “The costumes are absolutely amazing, aren’t they?”
    “I suppose.” I hadn’t really noticed the costumes, and the fact that he would notice annoyed me for no good reason. It seemed to underline my conviction that we had nothing in common. “What do you think so far?” I asked, and I couldn’t make my voice sound friendly.
    He eyed me warily before saying drolly, “I think you and Elphaba have a great deal in common.”
    “I’m not green.”
    “Of course not, love. It’s more the attitude. Uptight and with absolutely no sense of humor.”
    “I suppose we should all be more flighty, like Galinda?” I asked, and I saw by the way his eyes narrowed that he did not miss my meaning. He turned away from me and drained his glass of wine, then walked back into the theater without me.
    I didn’t care if he was angry. I didn’t care if I had hurt him. I stood there cursing myself for everything I could think of, from first agreeing to meet him for dinner so many months ago to asking him out tonight. I finished my wine and went back in, taking my seat next to him without saying a word.
    After the play, I wanted only to get out of there as quickly as possible. What was normally a pleasant experience for me had been ruined, and I wanted nothing more than to be away from him. The lobby was packed with people shopping at the merchandise booths and buying more drinks, and some like us, who were simply trying to get to the door.
    We were almost there when a familiar voice said, “Jonathan!” I turned in the crush of people to find Marcus next to me. “It’s good to see you don’t work all the time!” he said cheerfully. “Let me buy you a drink.”
    Shit. There was no way I wanted to tell Marcus no. On the other hand….
    “Come on,” he said, sensing my hesitation. “My wife is over there,” he waved vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, “talking to her sister. I’ll be here at least another hour.”
    “Well, sir—”
    “We would love to join you,” Cole suddenly said from just behind my right elbow, and Marcus looked at him in surprise. I felt dread forming in the pit of my stomach. Cole held his hand out to Marcus. “I’m Cole. And you are?”
    “Marcus Barry,” Marcus said uneasily, shaking Cole’s hand.
    “He’s my boss,” I said to Cole, hoping he would realize that I was pleading with him not to embarrass me.
    “Marcus! Of course. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard all about you, of course.”
    Marcus was looking back and forth between us, his cheeks slowly turning red. “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously flustered. “You’re a friend of Jonathan’s?”
    Oh God. I wished there was a nearby hole I could climb into to hide. It wasn’t that I hid my homosexuality at work. It was simply that it had never come up. I didn’t go to the company Christmas parties,