Friction

[Patrick]

Tuesday. July 3, 2018


"I liked that one."

Caroline Schultz folded dainty hands over the brightly colored folder spread open atop the cozy, cast-iron table she shared with Patrick on Gecko Drop Cafe's front patio. It was as good a place as any to conduct their business, seeing as neither of them had more than a ****ty hotel room to their names.

Trick snorted, looking up at her from the resume they'd been left to consider. "He smelled like weed."

"He's entirely qualified and gorgeous to boot," she countered.

"No fraternizing with the mechanic."

She scowled, fluttering a hand in the direction of the man's retreating figure. "Did you even look at him?"

Patrick looked, now, appraising the other man's stocky build and disheveled mein. There was not one ounce of femininity to his appearance, an aspect which was necessary in triggering his interest. He shook his head and shrugged. "Not my type."

Caroline rolled her eyes, albeit playfully. "That's right. You're 'involved'." She leaned closer, presumably in anticipation of juicy details.

Trick's expression was maddeningly opaque. "That's got literally nothing to do with it."

She narrowed her eyes. "What revs Patrick Richie's engine?"

"Not that mechanic," he replied blithely.

Caroline laughed, sitting back in her chair. "Fine. Don't tell me."

Trick quirked a faint smile which he aimed at the table, then passed the resume aside. "You're right about one thing, though. He is qualified. I think we put him at the top of the list and we'll call him back once I finalize things with the ship."

"Oh hello."

At first he thought Caroline was commenting on the picture attached to the resume, but realized too late her attention was directed elsewhere. Trick looked up in time to see the impossibly sublime young god that was Goshen approach their table with the soft, commanding grace of nobility. He had the slim, romantic build and magnetic beauty which would have instantly infatuated every author of classical literature.

And Patrick hated him for it.

"Tell me you're here to apply for the job," Caroline purred.

Trick kicked her under the table and grit his teeth, ignoring the incredulous expression she pinned him with to stare up at Goshen instead. "Are you lost?"

The prince flashed a silky smile. "No, I'm not. I hope I'm not interrupting, but I saw you here and wanted to speak with you."

"Listen," Trick said, cutting him off with an impatient wave of a hand. "I really don't want to hear anything you have to say. I'm just trying to live my life over here, eat some food, enjoy my day. Not dredge up the past."

Goshen regarded him in perfect calm. "I understand. Moreso now than ever, which is why I wanted to apologize." Apparently, he wasn't letting Patrick put him off so easily. Goshen's gaze flickered aside to Caroline, then back to Trick. "For my part in the way it all happened," he went on, vague but for the lack of privacy.

"You stole my boyfriend," Trick replied flatly. "You can say it. Why be considerate about things now? You weren't then."

"And I'm sorry," Goshen replied in that low, dulcet tone of his. "I know I shouldn't make excuses, but I didn't know what I was doing."

Didn't know what he was doing? How could he not know what he was doing? The situation was very cut and dry in Trick's mind. Anger crept its way up his spine, locking his muscles into a rigid display of cool restraint.

"I've grown a lot since then, and when I realized the sort of damage..." The platinum prince shook his head, pushing an elegant hand through perfect, copper hair. "I love Ed, but it should have happened differently. I know that my actions hurt you, and I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry."

The apology sounded disgustingly rehearsed, but there was a sliver of sincerity Patrick couldn't ignore which only served to irritate him further. Wanting this entire travesty of a confrontation to end, he worked up a harsh perjury of a smile.

"You know? It's... whatever, man. It's in the past and it doesn't matter anymore. Honestly? You did me a favor. Obviously I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. That's not the kind of person I want to be around, so.. Thanks."

Trick enjoyed the flicker of apprehension to grace Goshen's stupid, perfect face.

"We all make mistakes," Goshen said.

He exhaled, sounding as though he was on the edge of laughter. "Yeah, don't I know it."

The older boy's posture remained relaxed, his expression undisturbed. "I'll leave you to your meal. Thank you for your time."

As Goshen turned to walk away, Patrick couldn't help but get in one last jab. "No problem. Wish you the best, but you know what they say: once a cheater, always a cheater. So good luck with that."

Goshen paused. There was an aseptic lack of expression in amber eyes, though his recovery was swift, chin lifting with every bit of cool, irritating arrogance he possessed. "That isn't something which concerns me in the least. He's on a very tight leash."

"You don't see the problem in needing a leash to begin with?"

The older boy smiled luxuriously. "Not when it's handed to me willingly. Enthusiastically."

A sharp frown erased Patrick's blithe expression once Goshen's back was turned. There wasn't anything more to say. In fact, he'd already said more than he should have.

A few minutes later, Caroline's voice broke the heavy, awkward silence created in the wake of the confrontation. "Well that just happened." When Trick didn't respond, she kicked the leg of his chair to get his attention. "Want to go drool over that Sandfly again that we saw yesterday? Come on." She hit him with the folder of resumes she'd just cleaned up.

"All right, all right. Just don't let me sign anything."

"Gotcha. No impulse purchases. None that can't be returned, anyway."

"I'm not going shopping with you."

Caroline pouted, shoving paperwork into his backpack as they prepared to leave. "But we could buy you a new outfit. You know, before anyone other than me realizes you constantly cycle through the same six shirts."

"They're comfortable," he protested.

"Oh, Patrick." Caroline sighed, pushing him toward the street. "I'm doing you a favor. Trust me."