Page 73 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, he was panicking about his midterms. Didn’t even get to take them.”
“Are you okay?”
“I mean, I’m worried about you. Mom made it sound like you dropped out, and being the only one of us in college felt weird, but this is different. And if you got hurt because you were too tired…”
“Yeah, I might not have told Mom that part.”
“Collin!”
“I couldn’t! You see how she’s taking this news.”
Alice huffed. “You’re an idiot. And I’d do the same thing.”
“If she found out I’d worked too much, she’d…”
“Yeah…” Alice groaned. “I think I’ll avoid going home for a few weeks, maybe break my phone. She seems to think your new job is sex work. And hey, if it is, I’m totally fine with it. But she’s…Mom.”
“It’s not sex work. I’m not being paid for the sex I’m having.”
“But there is sex.”
“There might be.” Collin blushed. “Since when do you ask me these questions?”
She laughed. “At least make sure he’s hot. Okay, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a tutoring session for German. Love you!” She hung up.
Collin walked back to Mr. Reevesworth shaking his head.
“Is your sister well?”
“If you are asking if she’s my mother’s second salvo, then yes, that’s what my mother intended. Alice, however, is not worried about whether or not you’re paying me for sex. She just said you better be hot.” Collin shrugged.
Mr. Reevesworth inclined his head. Together, they blended into the sidewalk, heading north toward the restaurant.
Collin blinked, looking around the floor of the restaurant. Somehow, he’d gone from one culture to another in two steps through a door. Low tables were laid out in a regular pattern, each surrounded by planking. Under the tables was hollow so one could sit on the edge of the planking as if they were on the edge of a bench. There were pillows scattered here and there. Patrons who were already eating were either sitting or leaning on pillows in various positions. The center of each table held a grill on which thin strips of meat hissed and sputtered while sides of mushrooms and vegetables roasted around them.
“It’s a traditional design.” Mr. Reevesworth put a hand on Collin’s back and ushered him deeper into the restaurant. A girl in a mid-thigh length dress or robe that crossed in front of her chest greeted them. She bowed from the waist, hands tucked in at her waist.
Mr. Reevesworth greeted her with an inclination of his head. “We’re with Mr. Moreau.”
“This way.” She held out one hand toward the back.
Mr. Moreau and Damian were already seated in an enclosed table, light wood paneling and plants creating a barrier on two sides. Mr. Moreau and Damian rose as soon as they saw them approach. Mr. Reevesworth pulled Damian into a quick embrace, hand gripping Damian’s arm, and whispered in his ear. Then he moved toward his husband. Damian grabbed Collin by the shoulders, grinning.
He leaned forward. “Little brother, then?” He leaned back so he could smirk.
Collin flushed and dropped his eyes, nodding.
Damian gripped him hard and pulled him into a tight hug, thumping him on the back with his fist. “This requires a toast. Come. Have you had soju before?”
“No.”
“Then this should be a good night.”
Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau took seats together on the left so that they were facing the entrance. That left the exterior wall and the seat that had its back to the door. Damian scooted around the table to the exterior wall. There was enough room for two, but Collin sat down across from Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau with his back to the room’s entrance
“A toast.” Mr. Moreau poured clear white alcohol into four tiny shot glasses. “To Damian’s successful return. Congratulations, Damian.”
