Beginners luck, p.4
Beginner's Luck, page 4
“Totally understandable.” Aaron could afford to be magnanimous now that he’d gotten his way. “We don’t mind waiting.”
Sitting back down, he hesitated to look across the table. Jay seemed like an easygoing guy who didn’t like making waves. What would he think of Aaron’s outburst?
When Aaron finally lifted his eyes, all he could see in Jay’s face was a look of awe.
“Thank you,” Jay whispered.
Chapter 5
JAY
Jay had spent countless meals dealing with tomatoes—either painstakingly picking them out or enduring the uncomfortable aftermath. The concept of a mild allergy never resonated with his parents, and the symptoms were dismissed for years. Even after he did the tests as an adult, finally vindicated with an official diagnosis, he didn’t want to make a fuss, so nothing ever changed.
But Aaron had made a fuss. His immediate and fierce outburst made something bloom warmly inside Jay, like the first rays of sunshine after a long winter night. The whispered thank-you didn’t seem like enough, but it was the best Jay could do without getting choked up.
“Of course,” Aaron said. “Allergies can change throughout your life. Repeat exposure can make them go from mild itching and burning to anaphylaxis.”
“That’s scary.” Jay shifted in his seat. How had he never known that? He was the one with the allergy, yet Aaron knew more about it than he did. “I don’t usually talk about this stuff—the migraines or the allergy.”
“Not even with your partners?”
Jay couldn’t tell if Aaron was fishing or simply curious. There might have been a trace of flirtation in Aaron’s voice, though it was probably just wishful thinking on Jay’s part. He didn’t want to answer Aaron’s question. They were just starting to get to know each other, and this was a side of Jay he hated to share.
He considered changing the subject, but he couldn’t keep doing that forever, and a part of him wanted Aaron to know him. “Not really. Haven’t been with anyone long enough to want to spill my darkest secrets.”
Aaron chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, you’re one of those. Commitment-phobe or just playing the field?”
“Neither,” Jay said, rolling his eyes at the idea. “Just bad luck, I guess. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll happen at all.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. What was happening to him? Instead of doing his best to impress Aaron, he was getting emotional over a salad and sharing his innermost fears.
Aaron didn’t seem to mind, responding with a playful smile. “Oh, hush. If it’s not too late for me, it’s definitely not too late for you. I promise.”
This time, it was unmistakable. There was a flirty edge to Aaron’s voice, and Jay’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to school his expression and steer the conversation to a different topic. “And what about you? Any secret allergies or monster migraines I should know about?”
“Everyone’s got something,” Aaron said with a shrug. “I threw my back out a few years ago, and it’s been giving me warning twinges whenever I overdo it. That’s old age for you.”
Jay filed that piece of information away. Not that he’d need it. Not that he’d ever be in a situation where he’d have to worry about Aaron’s back.
“Right. Your old age,” Jay huffed a chuckle. “The same age I will be entering in just a few years myself, so I should get ready.”
He didn’t understand why Aaron kept making such a big deal of his age. A few white strands caught the light when Aaron dragged his fingers through his hair, but that was the only indicator of their age difference that Jay could see.
Before Aaron could respond, the server swept up to the table and placed a new plate in front of Jay. Aaron leaned over to inspect it, concentration written on his face, as if making sure not a single piece of tomato was hiding in its depths. It looked fine to Jay.
The server set down another plate at the center of the table. “Here’s some edamame, on the house. I’m sorry about earlier. Sometimes I get on autopilot and…” She shrugged at Jay and flitted her glance to Aaron.
“We get it,” Aaron said. “You have a lot of tables and not enough help. Thank you for being so accommodating.”
She flashed a relieved smile and hurried away.
“How did you do that?” Jay couldn’t hide the awe in his voice. “You basically just told her to do her job better, and she apologized and gave you a freebie instead of getting angry.”
Aaron didn’t respond right away. He placed a pod of edamame between his full lips, working the beans out with his teeth. As his tongue darted out to capture the stray bits of salt, Jay’s heartbeat picked up. If he was going to be this sensual with every bite he took, Jay was sure to experience one of the most awkward erections of his life.
Thankfully, instead of grabbing another piece, Aaron laced his fingers together and hummed in thought, finally answering the question Jay had already forgotten he’d asked. “But I didn’t tell her to do her job better, did I? I explained what we needed and asked for her help. I didn’t blame her, because that would put her on the defensive. I mean, everyone makes mistakes, and service workers have to deal with enough rude people as it is.”
“Let me guess, you majored in psychology?”
Aaron laughed. “Actually, I did. But most of this stuff I learned on the job. Despite screaming left and right that I’d never take part in work politics when I was your age, I had to deal with a lot of it, and learned quite a bit along the way.”
“What kind of politics?” Jay gestured for Aaron to continue before trying to gracefully shove a forkful of lettuce in his mouth.
“My industry can be a little nebulous. There are some metrics when it comes to employee engagement, goals, and strategy, but those numbers will never be as concrete as something from Finance or IT. A lot of strategy is long-term, so it’s harder to figure out if things are working.” Aaron sighed and absently stirred his soup in slow circles. “When you can’t rely on numbers, you have to justify your role on the strength of your image. And if you project confidence, if you sound like you know what you’re talking about, if you have their respect, only then will they agree that you’re a necessary part of the team.”
“They hired you, so don’t they already know you’re necessary?” Jay asked.
“Theoretically. But I still have to worry about being allowed to make decisions or given room to work. If people don’t trust me, I can’t drive any meaningful change, and eventually, it’ll be obvious if I’m not making a difference.”
“So you play politics to get people to like you?”
Jay wished he could take the words back the moment they were out. They sounded too judgmental, and even though Jay was indeed one of those people who loudly proclaimed their distaste for work politics, he was also growing to truly admire Aaron.
“Not like.” Aaron shook his head. If he took any offense to Jay’s snarky words, he didn’t show it. “Respect. I need people to take me seriously if I’m going to do my job successfully. And let me tell you, trying to get people to take the quiet, skinny, gay guy wearing tinted lip balm seriously can get pretty tricky.” He paused his aimless stirring to sip the hot broth.
Jay struggled with what to say next. His job was very different—a casual environment where he was one of several programmers on a tight-knit team. In his world, work politics boiled down to who got to pick the restaurant for team lunches and being careful with your words at client meetings. When Jay was offered a chance to supervise two summer interns last year, he’d given his COO a dramatic speech about never wanting to be a manager, and she’d just smiled and passed the interns to his coworker Dev. Now, hearing about the challenges Aaron had faced, Jay’s rant seemed childish in comparison.
Aaron was breaking down walls while staying true to himself. Jay wasn’t even sure what his true self wanted, so buried under the weight of expectations and pressure he’d put on himself.
“It’s better now,” Aaron continued when Jay didn’t say anything. “Earlier in my career, it was rough. Everyone assumed I was a pushover because I was an introvert. Some days, it felt like I had to shout to make myself heard. Now that I have a fancy title and know how to carry myself, it’s much easier. I’ve changed so much, people who knew me in college wouldn’t even recognize me. I’ve slowly morphed into this perfect persona of an outgoing, confident executive who’s great at public speaking and doesn’t get rattled by anything.”
He smirked and went back to sipping his soup. Jay studied him, finding it hard to believe that anyone who’d known Aaron for longer than five minutes would miss the steel core inside the adorable package.
The conversation shifted to safer topics when the sushi arrived. Aaron hadn’t had a chance to explore Chicago since moving, and Jay took pleasure in telling him about his favorite spots. Some—like the best hiking trails or interesting museums—Aaron could probably find with a single internet search. Others—like the ice cream shop he loved as a kid or the Northeastern University library, where he’d spent most of his freshman year—were deeply personal and mostly useless, but Aaron listened to every word with interest.
After swallowing the last bite, Aaron glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry to eat and run, but I’m presenting at a town hall in an hour, and I should really go and prepare. I hope we run into each other again soon.” After dropping a few bills at the center of the table, Aaron offered Jay a coy smile and headed to the exit. The tailored suit showcased his lithe frame, and the form-fitting slacks stretched and hugged every curve of his perfectly-shaped ass with every step. Jay’s gaze followed him helplessly, drinking in the view until he disappeared, and the heat in Jay’s chest lingered long after he was gone.
Aside from being one of the hottest men Jay had ever met, Aaron was truly impressive. If Jay had to present at a town hall, he’d probably spend the entire morning glued to his desk, obsessively going over his speech and worrying about what could go wrong. He certainly wouldn’t be going out for lunch, radiating calm and poise.
Checking the cash to make sure the meal was covered, he chuckled to himself. Of course, on top of treating Jay to lunch, Aaron was thoughtful enough to include a generous tip.
Jay took the long way back to his office, enjoying the leisurely stroll with his phone tucked away. The midday sun made everything brighter, the soft breeze caressed his skin, and he was greeted with smiles from everyone he passed. Brimming with anticipation, he took a brief detour past Aaron’s building and noted the coffee shop across the street. Next time, it would be Jay's turn to hunt Aaron down.
Chapter 6
JAY
Jay’s phone vibrated with notifications all morning.
LAYLA: You better not be thinking about skipping again. I can’t sit through another dinner where we do nothing but speculate about what fun thing you’re doing.
JASMINE: The kids saw a picture of you and asked who it was. I told them it was their long-lost uncle who used to visit us before he found something more interesting.
MOM: Sweetie, I am making your favorite tonight if you can come. If not, that is okay. We miss you.
Between a few lazy weeks, the migraine, and searching for Aaron, he’d skipped the last few family get-togethers, and his absences clearly didn’t go unnoticed.
All of them were just the right amount of close. He loved his parents and two older sisters, loved spoiling his nephews at every opportunity, but the weekly dinners put him on edge. Everyone went around the table sharing their news, and Jay rarely had anything to say. His life hadn’t changed in the past few years—same job, same hobbies. The only new development was joining Chain Reaction and attending Dom workshops—and that was not a topic he’d ever bring up with his parents around.
Despite the potential discomfort, he wanted to go tonight. He missed being surrounded by the familiar comfort of his family’s love, even if it meant being interrogated by his nosy sisters.
After picking up a box of cupcakes at a nearby bakery, he drove the half an hour to his parents’ house. He never responded to the texts, hoping his presence would be a pleasant surprise. Layla opened the door at his knock, squinting at Jay and cocking her head to the side. “Can I help you?”
Jay smirked. “I deserve that. But I brought cupcakes!”
“Hmmm…” She tapped a finger against her lips, as if in deep thought, then turned to yell into the house. “Jasmine! There’s a stranger on the porch that looks kinda like our brother. He brought cupcakes. Should I let him in?”
“Take the cupcakes and send him away,” a response came from inside. Before Layla had a chance to say anything else, Jay’s mom appeared in the doorway.
“Jahan, sweetie!” She beamed at him and opened her arms.
“Hi, Mama.” Jay thrust the box at his sister and hugged his mom. “Sorry I haven’t been around.”
“You are busy.” His mom kissed both of his cheeks and took a step back to look at him without craning her neck. “You are here now. That is all that matters. You look good.”
Jay was certain he looked the same as always, but it was nice to hear. Coming back to his childhood home was like submerging his entire body in a hot tub—an all-encompassing warmth spreading through him and soothing his soul.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked.
“In the garden with the boys,” Layla mumbled, her mouth full.
“Layla, dear, I think Jahan brought those for dessert.” The graceful lilt of his mom’s accent made the scolding sound gentle, even as she grabbed the open box out of Layla’s hands. “I will put them aside until after dinner.”
Jay shook his head in mock disappointment and walked across the house. The scent of fragrant herbs drifted in from the kitchen—turmeric, cardamom, saffron—familiar aromas that brought him back to his childhood, as ever-present as the faded photos of Jay and his sisters lining the living room walls.
His dad was kneeling by a cucumber plant in the backyard. Jay’s nephews were crowded around him, hanging onto his every word. It was an impressive sight. Layla and Jasmine had their children around the same time, resulting in a tiny but chaotic cohort of four boys between seven and ten. Their bodies constantly vibrated with the need to expend energy, and Jay was always exhausted after a night of babysitting. Yet his dad somehow managed to capture their undivided attention—probably explaining the life cycle of a cucumber before letting them pick a few for dinner.
“I couldn’t believe my ears, yet here you are,” Jasmine said as she entered the room, and Jay immediately crossed the space between them to grab her in a hug. Unlike Layla, who was six years older and played the role of bossy sister, there was only a year between him and Jasmine. She had been his playground mate when they were little, and they’d stayed close even into adulthood.
She squeezed him tightly before stepping back, her hand catching his in a familiar gesture. “What have you been up to?”
Jay sighed. “I don’t know why all of you assume I’m doing something exciting when I’m not here. I’ve been busy with work, and I had a migraine last week.”
Jasmine’s smile faded, replaced by a worried frown. “What happened? Are you getting enough sleep?”
“It’s fine, Jas, it happens. I only told you so you wouldn’t think I’ve been off partying without you.”
“Partying? What’s that?”
Jay let out a small laugh. “Is that a roundabout way of guilting me into babysitting?”
“Maybe.” Jasmine gave him a sly smile. “I’ll finish guilt-tripping you later. Let’s go watch TV before dinner. We can annoy Jasper and Paul by talking over whatever they are watching.”
She dragged him into the living room, where his brothers-in-law were hunched over their phones on the couch. They seemed so captivated, the soccer game playing on TV could have been interrupted by a bulletin announcing the arrival of aliens on Earth, and they wouldn’t have noticed.
Jay walked over to an armchair, surprised when Paul lifted his head. “Jay! Dude, it’s been a while. Good to see you.”
A wave of affection washed over him. It was nice to know he’d been missed, to feel the easy acceptance of his family. Even if it came from Layla’s lovable goof of a husband.
Jasmine flopped into the other armchair and immediately started asking questions about what he’d been up to. They stayed there, watching the game half-heartedly and trading bits of news until they were called to the dining room.
The best thing about these dinners, besides the company, was the food. His parents cooked together, making separate things. His mom always prepared Persian dishes, and his dad had started experimenting with different cuisines since retiring. The results didn’t always make sense—like the time they’d paired dill rice with shrimp fried rice—but it was always delicious. Besides, they were Persian. There was no such thing as too much rice.
Jay took his seat and looked around the table, his stomach growling in anticipation. “Do you need help making up plates for the boys?” he offered Jasmine.
“They can fend for themselves,” she said, her eyes glued to the steaming platter of buttery string beans. As usual, Jasmine’s maternal instincts were trumped by promises of a mouthwatering meal.
“Come on, everybody, serve yourselves.” His mom clapped her hands as she appeared through the doorway, followed by his dad carrying a large pot of ghormeh sabzi. Jay’s mouth watered at the fragrant aroma of the rich stew, his favorite meal in the world.
His dad lit up in surprise when he noticed Jay, immediately setting down the pot and hurrying to embrace him. “Jahan, we are glad to see you. You have not come in a while.” He kissed Jay’s cheeks and squeezed his shoulder. “I will take you to see the bell peppers after dinner.”
His accent seemed more pronounced than usual, or maybe Jay just hadn’t talked to him in too long. He loved his parents’ formal way of speaking. After living in America for over three decades, their English was perfect, but they never changed their speech patterns. As kids, Jay and Jasmine had made a game out of trying to get their parents to use contractions. As far as he could remember, neither one of them ever succeeded.
