Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

necessary nor accurate." Devon scrubbed a hand over his head. "You're not a geek, Scott. You're an attractive, intelligent man who just needs someone to tell him that once in a while."
    Scott blushed to his toes, mouth opening to speak but no words coming out. That was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him—ever. Then Devon was holding him again, their chests and thighs pressed tightly together. One of Devon's hands sunk into Scott's hair, gripping the back of his head as Scott returned the embrace with everything he had. Fuck being seen in public in a suit. He could handle it. It seemed he could handle anything and everything if Devon was at his side, though that was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid in both his head and his heart. He'd just have to try harder later because all he could picture at that moment was Devon with his nose tucked in the nape of Scott's neck.
    "Think we can call this our first fight?" Devon said against Scott's hair.
    Scott chuckled. It felt good to laugh after a tense conversation. "I dunno. Never had a relationship long enough to have one. You?"
    Devon lifted his head, brushing the unruly hair from Scott's forehead and stepping back to look at him. "It's been a long time for me, but fighting with him was never this quiet or contained."
    Though he was completely uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation, Scott asked the question in his head anyhow. "Did you… love him?"
    Devon's eyes got a far-away look, dullness replacing the bright and making Scott a little sad that he'd asked the question at all. "I thought I did. Probably did at the time, but it was more of a coming-of-age thing, you know? He was my first everything… older, controlling. His definition of love was totally different than mine and eventually I just knew it wasn't right."
    "How long?" Scott brushed his fingers down Devon's neck, resting his hand over the pounding of Devon's heart.
    Devon sighed, covering Scott's hand with his own. "Two years of thinking nothing I did was right or good enough, but being so in love it didn't matter. I ignored who I really was to please someone who didn't really want me."
    "I'm sorry. I can't imagine you being that way."
    "I chalk it up to youth. I learned my lesson and I wouldn't take it back for anything. Experience is what life's all about." He smiled that perfect Devon smile. "We okay?"
    Scott nodded and grabbed his keys from the table by the door. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."
    Devon tilted his head. "Thought you wanted to change?"
    "I figure you'll protect me if any bullies get to close."
    "I can guarantee that."
    ****
    The Little Shoppe of Jazz hadn't changed since Scott had met Devon there almost four months before. He hadn't expected it to be different, but it didn't seem as bright and shiny as it had last time. Of course it might only appear that way in his recollections since Devon seemed to make everything bright and shiny all the time.
    The Shoppe was a small, intimate club Scott had been going to for a few years—live music, reasonably-priced drinks, people minding their own business. It was comfortable and Scott had always associated his direct comfort with acceptance and non-judgment. He'd given up the gay bars and clubs years before when they just didn't seem to fit what he was looking for. The Shoppe had been his familiar haunt ever since. He'd never picked up any guys or even been approached at the club, at least not until Devon showed up.
    "Crowded tonight, huh?"
    Scott looked up from his wine glass and into stunning, soft brown eyes. He glanced from side to side, figuring the guy had to be talking to someone else. No one ever talked to him in The Shoppe —for that matter, no one ever talked to anyone in the club.
    Licking his lips, Scott curled his hand around the glass, hoping the gesture came off as both casual and friendly—but not too friendly or too casual. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat after the word came out gruffer than he'd intended. He pointed to the musician readying his horn in the corner. "He always pulls a big crowd."
    "Any good?" the beauty asked, setting his beer down beside Scott's glass.
    "Yeah, he's um… yeah, he's good." Scott dipped his head again, tracing the lip of his glass with his index finger, giving him something to do with his hands. He wished the butterflies in his belly would go flutter somewhere else.
    "You mind if I share your table?"
    Scott whipped his head up so fast his vision dotted with black