Page 70 of Center of Gravity

“I thought we’d go somewhere different tonight.” Rob finished off his beer and rattled it back onto the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start romancing me now,” I teased, and caught a shadow pass through his eyes before he looked away. Oh God, had I misread things? Was he going to take me out and tell me he didn’t want to do whatever it was we were doing anymore? That seemed weird, though. And expensive. Who took somebody out to ditch them when a phone call or text would work just fine? Oh wait, Alain had done something very similar. It just hadn’t stung as much because I was sick of him by then, anyway.

But I wasn’t sick of Rob. A cool unease passed like fingers over the back of my neck. My stomach somersaulted once, then Rob’s hand was in front of me, extended and waiting. I slid mine within his and he pulled me up. “You’ll see.”

* * *

Brass was halfway backto the city. The name struck me as vaguely familiar, but as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of a modest, strip mall-style facade, I realized I’d never been. Not that that was unusual. I frowned as I got out and studied the dark plate glass windows and the small, subdued gold-script lettering. Rob chuckled. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Tell me about it,” I murmured.

His head canted to one side and I felt myself beginning to smile. “Yes, that was aimed at you. Businessman by day, wildcat by night.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve gone farther.” I winked at him as he held the door open for me, hearing the soft hitch of his breath as I breezed past him.

“And what does that make you?” he asked.

My reply was delayed on account of me soaking up the atmosphere. Beige brick and tinted plate glass gave way to twinkle lights and heavy, velvety fabrics, leather, and the rich scent of food. Expensive food. If Rob hadn’t been wearing virtually the same thing as me I would have turned and walked back out, convinced I was underdressed.

“That’s easy. Like me. I’m just neon-glowing hunger. My open sign is always lit up.” I only caught him sidelong, since the hostess had walked up at that point, but instead of seeing him smile, I thought I glimpsed a frown. That restraint thing again, I guessed, and my apparent lack of it.

The hostess seated us at a tiny table that barely had room for our elbows. I settled in across from Rob, rearranging my water glass so I wouldn’t knock it off the table if I breathed wrong. It was the Manhattan of tables. Every inch was precious real estate.

“The food is worth it,” he promised as I pushed my fork and knife next to my water glass.

“How did you find this place?”

It didn’t look like a place that Rob would pick, but the fact was also that I didn’t really have a clue what Rob would pick. Usually, he was all about convenience. Extending that metaphor to myself made my stomach knot up, so I tried to push the thought aside. Our interactions were limited and well-defined. I’d sooner be able to answer how he liked his dick sucked than his favorite movie or what kinds of foods he enjoyed eating. It was an odd kind of intimacy, like knowing in reverse, and it bothered me. I was curious what he did during the weekdays, what his life was like. Despite the fact that we saw each other almost every weekend, it was like he was becoming more of a stranger than less of one.

“It was a while back. Some coworkers were talking about it.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“No, not very often.”

“Do you come with coworkers?”

His eyes narrowed, like he was wondering why I was asking. “Sometimes.”

“Who else?”Someone you’re fucking, like me?That was my thought, but I didn’t say it.

The furrow between his brows expanded and deepened as he studied my face, thoughtful rather than irritated. Our waiter stepped up a second later, holding out a wine list that was larger than the table.

I didn’t know wine, so I was happy to let Rob order for the both of us. Once the waiter retreated, he was back to studying me, his expression indecipherable. “You were trying to decide whether you should be jealous or not.”

“Wrong,” I quipped, trying to keep my tone light. “I was trying to decide if you’re less tragically unhip than I thought.”

“Tragically unhip,” he echoed skeptically. “I suppose after this we can just go back to my place then, rather than out dancing.”

My eyes widened. “You want to go dancing?”

“Sure, why not? I was thinking of that place you went for your birthday, Razz?”

“Have you been there?”

He exhaled another breathless laugh and nodded. “Yes. It’s been a while, but yes. And for the record, yes, I do have friends, and a social life. I go to poker night and sometimes I stand around the coffee maker at work and engage in actual conversation with others.”