Hunted – 61

“Where’d you vanish to?” Brice asked when Faolán came into his dressing room late that afternoon, when shooting was over for the day.

“I needed to walk, and think,” Faolán told him, as he leaned his butt on the edge of the dressing table to watch Brice while he removed his make-up.

Brice arched an eyebrow but remained quiet until he was finished. “Ready to leave?” he asked when he had.

“Yes, if you are.”

With a nod and a bit of a smile Brice stood. “Dinner at home?”

“No, I’m taking you out to eat.”

“You’re what?” Brice looked at him in surprise.

“You know, food, restaurant, date.”

“Date huh? Sure, why not. We haven’t really done something like that.” He looked at Faolán and suddenly realized he was pretty dressed up, for him, in jeans and a nice button-down shirt. Then he smiled when he realized it was one of his. “This looks good on you,” he told him, fingering the collar.

“Well since I don’t have one of my own… I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not in the least.” Brice put an arm around Faolán’s waist, started towards the door and then paused. “Why?”

“Why what?” Faolán replied, feigning innocence.

“Why a date?”

“I’ll tell you…later.” Faolán kissed him lightly. “For now just go with it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later Brice glanced over the top of his menu to look at Faolán, who seemed deeply engrossed in deciding what he wanted for dinner. He’s leaving and this is his way of letting me down easily. A frown touched his face. But then it was to be expected I guess. With a sigh he went back to reading the menu, although he really wasn’t hungry now.

As if he’d read Brice’s mind, which he hadn’t, Faolán reached across the table to push his menu down so that he could see his lover. “You could at least try to smile,” he said quietly. “This is a date. It’s supposed to be fun, not torture.”

Brice essayed a small smile. “I know. Sorry. I guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“We don’t have to do this. We can go home and…order something fancy to be delivered.”

“No. We’re here now, and I think,” he nodded to the approaching waiter, “it’s time to order.”

Which they did. Faolán also asked for a bottle of wine after consulting with the waiter. When the man left Faolán took a deep breath as he reached for Brice’s hand. “I’m not leaving you.”