Follow Him Home (Alternate Worlds Book 1) Page 13

  “Which part makes you say that? The orchestra tickets or romp with your boyfriend after they kissed?”

  “Both. Probably. I don’t know. Between listening to Victor play and seeing more about Christian the deeper I look, I feel like my head is spinning.” Peter sighed. “Christian is soft and vulnerable. I wouldn’t have guessed that about a guy like him. For as little as I know Christian, I know Victor less, but I swear I heard so much about him in his music. I was already in over my head. Now, I feel like a rabbit being circled by two wolves.”

  “That we could all be so fortunate.” Robin reached forward, brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek, prompting the other man to lean into the touch. “You’re falling for him,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Peter said.

  “Which one?”

  Robin chuckled as Peter shot him a cautionary look. Patting the side of Peter’s face, Robin lowered his hand to his side. “I always knew your heart was too big.”

  “Well, either way, I have problem.” Exhaling a breath rife with tension, Peter pouted at his friend, the expression deliberately exaggerated. “Help me figure out what to wear,” he said. “I don’t have anything for a Saturday night concert.”

  “Finally, something within my purview.”

  Walking back to his desk, Robin opened the top drawer and pulled out a set of keys. Once he had pocketed them, he strode toward where his coat hung. “Grading papers can wait,” he said. “We’re finding you something decent to wear, because if I hear about you entering the symphony wearing jeans, I am going to formally disown you.”

  “Formally? Wow, that sounds serious,” Peter said. Joining Robin out the door of his study, he followed him through what little remained of the small row home in South Philly his friend occupied. As they walked out the door, Robin fished for the keys in his pocket and pressed the button for his car alarm system until it disengaged. Heading for the passenger side of an older black BMW, Peter waited until his friend had opened the driver’s side door before entering the vehicle as well.

  Robin smirked as he started the ignition. “Lunch is on you again,” he said. “Let the pauper professor purchase your early birthday gift.”

  Peter laughed. “This is because Victor’s the respectable one, right?” he asked.

  “No, it’s because I haven’t ever seen you happier even if I’m still frightened for your well-being. Call me an enabler.” Shifting into gear, Robin focused on the road while NPR droned sedately in the background. Once they had reached South Street, he parked the car and paid time at the meter while Peter glanced at both the clothing stores and restaurants. First, they settled on lunch. After that, they strode across the street to a shop with mannequins wearing finely-tailored suits.

  Idly, Peter mused on being one of those dolls out on display.

  While one of the shop attendants hustled to assist, Robin led him through the options being presented, from coats as formal as the one the fleeing man had worn in his apartment building, to the sorts of vests and ties he envisioned when he summoned the dirty images of Victor and Christian. The material felt strange on him, and when Robin forced him to look in the mirror, he made sure to stop Peter midway through a full-turnaround. Pointing out the flattering way the suit accentuated his backside prompted Peter to shoot him another warning glance.

  “What?” Robin said, making it a point not to hide his Irish brogue. “You want to impress the man, don’t you? Don’t be shy about accentuating the finer features.”

  “You’re impossible,” Peter said, thanking the attendant when they handed him a matching tie. As he struggled with it, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and finally took in the full picture, running his fingers through his hair while admiring himself. The cut of the suit, coupled with the way the colors brought out everything from his skin tone to his eye color, made him realize that he could be easily confused for an attractive man. Maybe even the kind that would turn someone like Victor’s head.

  “I am getting way too ahead of myself,” he muttered while undoing the collection of garments. Robin gathered up what he discarded and within minutes they were out on the street again, toting along the newly-purchased suit with the intent of buying a matching pair of shoes. Peter forced Robin to let him buy those and failed to mention the haircut he’d be getting after the two men parted ways. His chores had cut into the time he spent resting before work, but a part of him hoped it would be worth it in the end.

  ‘Worth it in the end,’ he thought while riding the subway into work. Classical music replaced his normal combination of alternative rock and 80s music, filling his ears and his mind with thoughts of what a night out with Victor might turn out to be like. After weathering the suggestive compliments his co-workers offered, (‘Hey, when’s the date, Peter?’ they asked, admiring the fresh haircut and the spring in the doctor’s step.) he rode back home and forced himself to sleep. Getting up early, he showered and heated the same vaguely food-like substance he was used to consuming in his apartment. It made him pine for the meals he’d eaten at Victor’s condo, while his thoughts quickly shifted to the handsome lawyer.

  Meticulously, Peter prepared for his night out with Victor.

  After shaving, Peter sprayed some freshy-purchased gel into his hand and worked it into the brown, shorn locks. His eyes were on the mirror the whole time while he dressed, and as he worked on the tie, he kept his focus on the knot, straightening the collar of his shirt and slipping on the new suit jacket on top of the rest of the ensemble. As he emerged from the bathroom, he strode into the living room and paused when he caught sight of someone standing near the bookcase.

  Victor turned to regard him and froze. It took several moments before he found a way to form words. “I knocked but you didn’t answer,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed myself in.”

  “No, not at all,” Peter said, finding himself at just as much of a loss. Regardless of what Victor saw when he looked at Peter, the other man drank in a sight of his own, admiring Victor from head to toe and back again. The suit he wore – far more formal than a simple work suit – had been tailored to Victor’s frame, making Peter feel frumpy in his clothing store purchase. Without following that thought any further, Peter wrestled with where his eyes should settle; whether Victor would notice him focused on his green, silk tie. Whether he should wonder if Victor picked it because it matched Peter’s eyes. Whether Victor knew that the smolder in his gaze had Peter rendered into a horny teenager.

  Victor’s lips quirked when Peter laughed. “I’m sorry,” Peter said. “It’s just that, you look amazing.”

  “Thank you,” Victor said, the immodest preening he indulged only serving to make him look more alluring. He strode closer to Peter, leaving the other man to wonder what he intended to do with his mind so far down a tangent. Peter breathed in sharply and Victor chuckled while reaching for Peter’s tie. “You don’t wear these too often, do you?”

  “No.” Peter exhaled the word. “To be honest, I think the last time I wore one was for college graduation.”

  Victor hummed acknowledgment of the answer, his eyes set on the task his fingers undertook. Loosening the fabric, he started to tie it again with practiced precision, not missing a beat in conversation either. “So, what I’m hearing is you need more excuses to dress up.”

  “You have a few things in mind?”

  Glancing upward, Victor raised an eyebrow, his lips still curled. “I might. That depends on how much you enjoy yourself tonight, though, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose that stands to reason, yes.”

  “Then we should be on our way.” Victor cinched up the knot he had threaded and tucked the tie back into place. His fingers glided deliberately across Peter’s chest, the gesture unapologetic, and as he turned for the door, Peter followed in his wake. “I left the car idling.”

  Nodding, Peter plucked his keys from the entryway table, where he normally deposited them, and locked the front door behind them. As Victor glided for th
e stairs, Peter jogged to make up the distance, eliciting a chuckle from the other man. “I wasn’t going to leave without you, I promise,” Victor said.

  “I didn’t think you would, but I wanted to be sure.” Peter assumed a place beside him and while Victor didn’t reach for his hand, or offer an arm, as Christian had, he still made sure they strode down the stairs in unison, allowing their bodies to brush twice on their way to the main floor. Once they reached the entrance, Victor opened the door and held it for Peter, pointing northward as he did.

  “The dark gray Mustang a little further down,” Victor instructed. “I’ll unlock it as soon as I can reach my keys.” As Peter strode past, nodding recognition, Victor kept his eyes focused on him and dug into his pocket once he freed himself the encumbrance of the door. It swung shut and the jingle of the keyring prompted Peter’s focus back to Victor, in time to see him press the button for the car alarm.

  Flashing headlights led Peter the rest of the way. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, even after Victor told him which car to look for, but seeing the vehicle only took Peter further by surprise. Instead of something fancy and high-end, an idling sports car waited for them. While it was the newest model, and cleaned in a way that suggested Victor took meticulous car of it, it provided a piece to yet another puzzle, laid out beside the one Peter had begun assembling for Christian. ‘Neither of you are conventional,’ he thought. ‘I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, you being together, but the moment I think I have the two of you figured out…’

  Victor paused beside the driver’s side and grinned at the way Peter stared at him from across the car. “It seems you went somewhere again,” he said.

  “It’s nothing,” Peter said with a smirk. “Well, nothing I feel like sharing now. I’ll let you know later.”

  “As you wish.” His lips still quirked, Victor opened the door and settled behind the wheel. Peter followed suit and the two buckled their seatbelts in near unison. While Victor shifted the car into reverse, he paused for a moment, making eye contact with Peter while he did.

  Peter laughed nervously. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing I feel like sharing now,” Victor repeated. “I’ll let you know later.”

  Tempted to retort, Peter lost the inclination when – after backing away from the car in front of him – Victor ran his hand along Peter’s leg before settling it on the shifter again. The car lurched forward and Peter shivered, only half aware of the way they surged from the parking space, weaving into Philadelphia traffic like threading a needle. Peter let out another bark of amusement, glancing back at a car they flew past, before turning to regard Victor again.

  He wore a pleased expression on his face. “You don’t own a car either, do you?” he asked.

  Peter shook his head. “No. I learned how to drive and didn’t do much driving after getting my license. My uncle insisted it was a life skill I needed, so I granted him that much.”

  Victor nodded. His eyes shifted quickly to the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “The traffic here ruins a little of the experience. Back where I’m from, there are a few highways where you can test the car’s mettle better. Sometimes, I miss it.”

  “Las Vegas sounds busy, though. Hot, too.”

  He breathed a chuckle. “Hot, yes. Busy, not much worse than here. You can avoid most of that by avoiding the Strip, but I wonder where the fun is in that?”

  “The things I miss staying so close to home.”

  “And the things you don’t being here.”

  Peter exchanged a smile with Victor and as they approached Center City, his gaze shifted intermittently from Victor to the scenery, until he settled on the sight of City Hall, looming in front of them. “I’ve always felt at home here,” he said. “I started visiting the city when I entered high school and came out to my aunt and uncle after being at the Gay Pride parade. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “Ah, so you are gay. Christian wasn’t sure if you were bisexual or not.”

  “If I am, I haven’t met the girl yet who could spark my interest.”

  Victor nodded. “I felt the same in the opposing direction. I dated women for the most part, until a few men managed to turn my head. At a point, I embraced enjoying the company of both.”

  “That explains that.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Victor freed his eyes from the road for a moment to glance at Peter. Without putting his question to words, he left enough stated for Peter to chuckle, shifting in his seat to line the other man better in his sights. “You carry yourself like a straight man,” Peter said. “If I hadn’t met you through Christian, I wouldn’t have assumed I could flirt with you.”

  “And look what you would’ve missed,” Victor said. While one hand remained on the steering wheel, the other settled on Peter’s thigh again, as if Peter had issued a dare and Victor had deigned to meet it. His palm slid closer to the other man’s crotch without touching his cock, settling there even while he expertly shifted lanes and maneuvered his way around Penn Square. Peter caught a breath in the back of his throat and scolded himself, thinking, ‘Later.’

  Even if a part of him suddenly wished it could be now.

  Eleven

  All the same, his skin still buzzed and cock ached when Victor removed his hand, the car slowing to approach a parking garage. His attention remained consumed by the effort of rounding the ramp until they reached an empty block of parking spots. Once the car slid into a space, Victor shifted the transmission into park and pulled his key from the ignition. He looked at Peter and smirked. “Shall we?”

  Peter nodded, aware somehow that his expression had morphed into something resembling intoxicated. “Lead the way,” he said. “I’m a fish out of water here.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised how well you blend in.”

  “Maybe. Only way to know for sure is to try.”

  Both men opened their doors in unison, stepping out from the car and shutting it again before Victor engaged the lock. Peter rounded the car, but once he reached the place where Victor stood, he found himself surprised when the other man paused to offer his arm. The gesture took Peter by surprise, but as he looked Victor in the eye, he saw the challenge being presented and wondered how much of it was Victor attempting to unsettle him by calling his bluff.

  Taking hold of Victor, Peter nodded and followed him to the elevators.

  Anytime circumstances called for it, Peter would let go of Victor, then immediately allow the other man to take hold of him again in some fashion. Approaching the box office, both produced their tickets, then, once they had walked clear of the entrance, Victor collected Peter’s hand and strolled sedately for the coat check. Peter blushed at the looks offered by his companion and once they joined the throng walking through the large symphony hall, his hand slid up to Victor’s arm and his eyes traced across the high-vaulted ceilings; the glass overhead and the doors open to the main hall in front of them. Everyone else dressed as impeccably as them, and nodded at the couple while Peter nodded at them in return. Once they had settled in their seats, Peter made himself comfortable and offered Victor one last glance.

  Maybe this was how it felt to be in a relationship, he mused. Maybe, just maybe, he had struck the right chord between happy and exhilarated.

  Victor smiled at him in return, as if he knew what Peter had been thinking. Their hands interlinked again and both looked forward at the stage while the remainder of the crowd made themselves comfortable. “We should probably get dinner after this,” Peter said. “My treat.”

  Victor hummed. “I know of just the place.” He paused. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

  “Ply me with a drink or two and I’ll be putty in your hands.”

  “Afterward, then?”

  “I have nowhere else to be. I’m also used to being up all night.”

  “Good,” Victor said, leaving the word hanging between them. The lights dimmed and as the murmur of the crowd lessened to a hush, the spotlights shone on the
stage, a grand piano situated prominently in front of an arrangement of stringed instruments. The musicians took their places before the conductor stepped onto his platform and as he did, the audience applauded. Peter freed his hand to join in the chorus. After the sound died down again, he interlaced his fingers with Victor’s and let himself get immersed in the experience.

  By the intermission, Peter had become engrossed. Throughout the duration of the second half, however, he became downright enchanted. The strains of music still echoed in his ears after the final applause and as he and Victor sat, enjoying dinner, he couldn’t stop talking about it. Victor listened with attentive amusement as Peter rambled on about the concert.

  “I mean, I know I hear people talk all the time about the experience, but I’ve never prioritized trying to see for myself,” Peter said, after swallowing down a bite of his food. The light from the street filtered through the windows, into the pub overlooking the Avenue of the Arts. Others who had attended the concert filled the background, their conversations a dull murmur again while Victor sipped his drink and Peter cut another piece from his steak. “I’ve apparently been missing out.”

  “What part of it did you like the most, though?” Victor said, before taking another drink of his wine and settling the glass down on the table.

  Peter lingered on that thought for a moment. While chewing down his bite of food, he pointed his fork in Victor’s direction. “If I wanted to curry favor with you, I’d say the piano. But I don’t want to, because I’ve got an even better counter.”

  “And what is that?” Victor asked, lifting his utensils as well.

  A slow, sly grin crossed Peter’s lips, reaching up to his eyes. “That I don’t think anyone could move me the same way you did the other night.”

  Victor hummed. “Flatterer.” He mirrored Peter’s expression, though, in a slightly more subdued manner. While eating his dinner, he squinted, looking away while lost in thought. “You liked the strings best,” he finally offered. “Particularly the violin. I can think of a piece or two where I caught you especially fixated on the music and both of those times, the violin provided accompaniment.”