Nathan blinked blankly at his best friend.
“My help?” he parroted, not quite getting what Lorcan was suggesting. It wasn’t as though he could go up to this Miles guy and talk his ear off about Lorcan to encourage him to make the first move. They’d already met; they’d spoken. If Miles was interested, he’d make a move.
Hope stirred in Nathan’s chest.
If Miles was interested, why hadn’t he already made a move?
“Yeah, I need you to do your thing.” Lorcan nodded, looking at Nathan expectantly, as though that would make Nathan whip out a ready-made action plan on how to get into Miles’s pants.
“Dude, I do that so you can talk to them without doing the awkward introductions yourself.” Nathan spoke slowly, as though explaining how to draw a straight line to a child. “You’ve already covered that.”
“Well, then think of this as a part two,” Lorcan allowed with a huff, probably because Nathan was making very valid points. “I don’t know if he’s even into guys.”
Nathan frowned thoughtfully. Normally, it was easy to tell if someone was into Lorcan. Or at least to Nathan. He liked to think his dad’s perceptiveness had been inherited—to a lesser extent, of course, because Nathan was good, but he wasn’t that good—enough that he made a great wingman to other people, not just Lorcan. Hell, a few of the people in their friend group had asked for his help before.
It wasn’t as easy, sure. But Nathan had a pretty high success rate. A few of them in happy, long-term relationships to boot.
Maybe he should have business cards made.
Nathan Reed—will get you laid.
Nathan shook off that thought as quickly as it had come because that made him sound like a matchmaker, and he was decidedly not experienced enough to consider that as a career path.
“So you…what? Want me to meet him and suss out if he’s interested?” Nathan tried talking slowly, one brow apprehensively raised.
“Yeah!” Lorcan grinned. “Exactly. Work your magic.”
Nathan huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at Lorcan’s enthusiasm about Nathan’s apparent “magic.” It wasn’t magic; it was just knowing how to talk to people. Specifically, talking to people about Lorcan. Who, in Nathan’s opinion, was the easiest thing in the world to talk about.
Sometimes, on very good nights, Nathan didn’t have to do as much. Sometimes, the woman would know exactly why he was approaching and just cut to the chase. He always appreciated those; they made his life a lot easier.
“Okay, I’ll do you this one favor.” Nathan sighed, clearly teasing. There were no favors between them. No one kept tabs over who owed the other what. “Now drive me somewhere to get food. I’m starving.”
Lorcan laughed, his mood clearly elevated from earlier. Even that was enough to settle Nathan a bit more. Sure, his brain might still be working overtime on limited sleep, but Lorcan’s coming-out experience had been painless for him, and that was something at least.
“Your wish is my command,” he quipped back, starting up the car and taking them to their usual haunt.
There was nothing better than getting food with Lorcan.
Lorcan was a picky eater, while Nathan happily consumed anything deemed edible. Which meant Nathan tended to get extra of whatever Lorcan didn’t like, and no food was wasted.
Win-win all around.
But this time, the experience was different.
Nathan hadn’t been worried about any uncomfortable silences or lapses in conversation after being away for so long, and he’d been right not to.
But he never thought to be worried about Lorcan never shutting up.
Which, under normal circumstances, would have been fine. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
Lorcan wouldn’t stop talking about Miles.
In the last half an hour, Nathan learned more about the guy than he ever wished to. His gut twisted with each and every new fun fact presented to him, his shoulders drawn tighter and smile more strained.
So far, Nathan learned the following:
Miles was a musician.
A lot of people were musicians, especially in LA; it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, Nathan had taken piano lessons for an entire week and could still successfully play “Twinkle Twinkle.”
Miles was a graduate from Juilliard.
Nathan might have asked Lorcan to repeat himself because there was no way he’d said Juilliard.
But he had. And that was fine. Juilliard was a college just like any other. Saint Andrews was nothing to scoff at either.
Miles was adopted.
It made sense. Probably adopted into a wealthy family with plenty of connections, considering the Juilliard thing (fucking Juilliard).
Miles’s eyes were this unusual gray color.
Lorcan spent a great deal of time talking about the color of Miles’s eyes. (There were only so many ways to describe stormy gray with flecks of brown, Nathan groused, please move on.) Anyway, Nathan had been told that he had unique eyes. Granted, they’d been compared to a swamp before. But still. Swamps had a bad rap—they had frogs.
But no, Lorcan clearly had a thing for smoke-colored eyes now, not gunky-green.
Miles was hugely involved in environmental activism.