Page 20 of Best Supporting Actor

“Thanks a bunch,” Mason huffed, folding his arms over his chest, his expression genuinely hurt.

Jay could have kicked himself. “Oh, Mason, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, feeling awful.

“No,” Tag interjected, “you nevermeanto be insulting, do you? But somehow, you always are.”

Jay turned on Tag. “Insulting? Me?” That was bloody rich, coming from Tag. “You’re the one who just accused me of being an elitist!”

But Tag’s gaze had moved past Jay, and when Jay glanced over his shoulder, he saw the reason why. Owen was guiding a distinctly wobbly Mason away, in the direction of the bathroom.

Shit.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Tag said uncertainly, glancing back at Jay with genuine concern. The expression softened him, tempering his prickly shell, making him look younger, and sweeter.

And just like that, all the fight went out of Jay, leaving behind only remorse and guilty self-loathing. “Probably feeling sick,” he said. “He looked pretty green. Maybe I should…”

He trailed off, but didn’t move. Owen had a protective hand on the small of Mason’s back and was saying something to him, head bent close, a solicitous look about him as Mason leaned into him, trustingly.

“I think Owen’s got it covered,” Tag said, staring after them with a surprisingly wistful expression.

And yeah, he did, didn’t he? Jay felt suddenly very inadequate.

For a few moments, they were both silent. Then Jay sighed and rubbed a weary hand over the back of his neck. Reluctantly, he admitted, “You were right. Iwasneglecting Mason. And now we’ve both lost our dates for the evening, so—sorry about that, I suppose?”

Tag turned back to look at him, and, for the first time that night, he smiled at Jay. It was a rueful smile, rather than the bright, dazzling one he wore so often, but it was just as disarmingly attractive, and it made Jay’s belly clench with a disturbing, achingwant.

“I haven’t lost anything,” Tag said with a shrug. “Owen wasn’t actually my date.” He moved to stand beside Jay at the bar and waved at the barman.

“You and Owen just came as friends?” For reasons Jay didn’t want to examine, the news buoyed him. He scrambled to hide the feeling before Tag noticed.

“Sort of. It was actually Aaron who invited me,” Tag said. “Owen was coming for Lewis, and I was just making up the numbers at the table.” He gave a self-mocking smile, which lacked something of his usual spirit. “It wasn’t a complete waste of time, though. At least I stopped you from winning the dating contest.”

Despite himself, Jay gave a soft chuckle. “You’re very competitive, aren’t you?”

Tag opened his mouth, but, luckily, the bartender arrived before he could retort. Not Will, Jay noted ruefully, but an older man. “What can I get you, gents?”

“Do you want another?” Tag said, indicating Jay’s empty tumbler. He did, but he doubted Tag had pockets deep enough for an eighteen-year-old Highland Park.

“Why don’t you let me get these?” he offered, and without waiting for Tag to object, told the barman to charge the drinks to his room. “I’ll have another shot of the Highland Park,” he said, “and whatever he wants, please.”

The barman nodded, then turned his attention to Tag. “And for you, sir?”

Tag looked rather mulish, as if he was considering standing on his pride, but after a moment, he made a little gesture of surrender and muttered, “Um, the same, thanks.”

Christ, Jay thought,is it that hard for him to accept a drink from me?

Once the barman had moved away, Tag said, “So, you’re staying here tonight? At the hotel? I assumed you lived in London.”

“I do. Well, just outside it. In Chalfont St. Giles?” Tag looked blank, and Jay shrugged. “It’s just northwest of the M25. I thought it would be easier to take a room here than go all that way and back tonight.”

Tag raised his brows. “A room here must cost a fortune.”

“Well,” Jay said, uncomfortable now, “it’s not just because of tonight. I’ve got a meeting in town tomorrow, so it’ll give me an extra hour or two in bed. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is worth every penny of the extortionate room rate.”

Tag gave him a wry look, but only said, “Yeah, I feel your pain. My shift starts at seven tomorrow.”

He turned away then, intently watching the barman pour their drinks, and Jay was fascinated to see colour rising in his cheeks, very noticeable beneath his pale complexion.

When Tag didn’t elaborate on that comment, Jay prompted, “Your shift?”