Chapter Two

 The Night We Met

Adrian adjusted his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. The cheap fabric scuffed at his neck, and the second-hand suit clung too tightly across his shoulders, like it wasn’t made for him. It probably wasn’t. He glanced around the hall, the lights shining off the high chandeliers, and the place was packed with suits that cost more than his entire year’s rent.

He inhaled deeply. You're here now, but you don't belong here, so behave, he reminded himself. Act carefully.

Clutching his invitation like it might vanish, Adrian approached a group of sharply dressed men near the champagne tower.

“Hi,” he said, his voice was overly chipper, extending his hand. “Adrian Cross. I’m a writer…freelance mostly. Just had a feature in…”

They didn’t even look at him.

One of the older men finally turned, gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Good for you.”

Then turned away.

Adrian’s cheeks burned. He stepped back, muttering something under his breath. But he didn’t give up. He moved on, weaving through the room in a polite and friendly manner. A few smiled politely, some nodded, but many barely acknowledged him. One woman, draped in diamonds, eyed his worn shoes and scoffed before turning to whisper into another woman’s ear.

Stay calm. Don’t let them get to you.

He found himself near the modern art section of the gallery. The room glowed with beautiful lighting, abstract sculptures radiating strange shades on the floor. Adrian stopped beside an ancient black canvas with nothing but a single white dot in the center. He had no idea what it meant, but he nodded like he did.

That was when he bumped shoulders with someone. Hard.

“Oh, sorry,” Adrian blurted, looking up.

The man he ran into was tall, broad-shouldered, and almost painfully well-dressed. Midnight-blue blazer, lean slacks, and a glass of red wine balanced perfectly in his hand. His dark curls framed a sharp, long face, and his gray eyes locked onto Adrian with unexpected interest.

Adrian stiffened. “Really sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

“No harm done,” the man said, his voice as smooth as velvet. “You’re the first person who’s bumped into me tonight and didn’t immediately ask for a loan.”

Adrian blinked, then gave a nervous chuckle. “Ah… well. I guess I missed my shot.”

The stranger smiled, and it wasn’t fake or stiff like the others. It was warm and friendly.

“I’m Eli,” he said, extending his hand.

Adrian shook it, firm but cautious. “Adrian Cross. I write. Or at least, I try.”

“A writer,” Eli echoed, and that smile didn’t leave his face. “That’s rare around here. Everyone else just writes checks.”

Adrian laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

They stepped away from the crowd slightly, finding a quiet pocket near a window that looked over the garden. Eli leaned casually against the wall, swirling his wine. “So, what do you write?”

“Articles mostly,” Adrian said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some short stories. Nothing glamorous. Magazines, online journals. You wouldn’t know any of them.”

“Try me.”

Adrian smiled, surprised by the interest. “I like peace and Quiet. Most of my stories are about small things. A town nobody’s heard of. A man who grows trees in his kitchen. Real stuff.”

“That sounds… refreshing,” Eli said. “Most of the people here wouldn’t know real if it punched them in the face.”

Adrian gave a gentle laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel so out of place. I think one woman tried to have me escorted out with her eyes.”

“She should’ve tried harder,” Eli said with a smirk.

Adrian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the screen, and with a sigh, he silenced it.

“Not important?” Eli asked, watching him.

Adrian hesitated, then said, “My girlfriend. Cynthia.”

Eli raised a brow, interest flickering. “You don’t sound thrilled.”

“It’s complicated,” Adrian muttered.

Eli stepped closer and crossed his arms. “Try me.”

Adrian gave him a sideways glance. “She’s… good to me. Helped me out a lot. Got me a few writing gigs. Even the invite to this thing.”

“But?”

Adrian exhaled. “She kind of… threw herself at me one night. I didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t want to be ungrateful. She’s done a lot. So, I stayed.”

Eli’s eyes twisted, but he was intrigued. “So, you’re paying her back… by dating her?”

Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “Something like that. I don’t love her. I’m not even really attracted to her. But… I owe her.”

Eli studied him, then asked, “And if there was a way out? Would you take it?”

Adrian looked away. “There’s no way out. I’m stuck.”

Eli scoffed. “Everyone has a price, Adrian.”

Adrian met his gaze, frowning.

“If you’re ever ready,” Eli said, reaching into his blazer pocket and handing over a white and black business card, “Call me.”

Adrian hesitated, took the card. His fingers brushed Eli’s for half a second longer than necessary.

“You’re arrogant,” Adrian said, giggling.

“You’re innocent,” Eli replied.

A waitress passed with a tray of wine. Eli plucked one glass and gestured. “Join me?”

Adrian hesitated, then took one too. “I guess one drink won’t kill me.”

***************************

The rooftop was quiet. Cool air kissed their faces as they leaned against the railing, looking out at the city. Lights blinked like stars below them. It was the first place Adrian had felt like he could breathe all evening.

They talked more about poetry, Adrian’s stories, Eli’s fascination with words. Adrian made a joke about the blank canvas downstairs and Eli laughed, really laughed.

Then, in the silence that followed, their eyes met.

It happened slowly. Eli stepped closer. Adrian’s lips parted, even without him knowing. Then Eli leaned in, one hand gently brushing Adrian’s jaw. Their lips met. It was tentative at first, then it became deeper, heavier, and more intoxicating.

Eli’s heart raced. The kiss stole every thought from his mind. But just as suddenly, Adrian pulled away. His expression was unreadable. Like he was scared. “I don’t…” he started, then stopped.

Eli was breathless, as his lips were still tingling. Neither of them said a word.

But something electric had passed between them. Something neither of them could pretend wasn’t real. However, Adrian couldn't h

old the heat, or maybe guilt, he stood up and ran out.