Page 17 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“Hey.” Damian blinked. “You’re…”
“Ash, Damian. Damian, Ash.”
“Your hair.” Damian glanced between Collin and Ash. “He has red hair.”
“Yeah, it looks good on him.” Collin grinned. “Ash went with me to that hair salon you told me about, remember? Thank you for that.”
Ash ran his hand through his bangs, pulling some of them back behind his ear. “I heard you say dinner.”
He looked good. Unconventional as hell with way too many black belt buckles on his dark-red jeans and large black sweater wrapped against his body with what was probably a woman’s waist cincher, but on him, it looked like something out of an anime. His eyes were outlined in black, and he had leather bracers wrapped around both wrists. There was a tablet wrapped in a case strapped to one thigh and half a dozen phones, battery packs, and other tech things down the side of his other thigh. Like a medieval techno Deadpool without the mask or spandex.
“Dude.” Collin grinned. “If you’re that dressed up, we have to go out. Ellisandre would kill you for wasting that kind of outfit.”
“They already saw it.” Ash smiled, and this time, it was a shy, pleased smile. “We went to some museum. But I’m down for food.”
“Let me talk to Mr. Reevesworth, and then maybe we can pry the best place for Indian food out of Damian. He knows ALL the places.”
Ash shot Damian an assessing look.
Collin left them to it. If they were going to become friends, it was up to them now.
In the private office, Mr. Reevesworth pulled Collin onto his lap, kissed him, and gave his blessing for dinner as long as they took one of the security guys along. “Do you mind if I give Damian the key? If you go where I think he’ll want to go for Indian food, that’s a little far away, and you’ll probably drink a lot of water with spicy food.”
Collin pressed his lips together, considering. “Please, if you’re okay with it. What are you doing tonight?”
“I have drinks at seven with a few old friends, then home. We should both go to the gym tomorrow morning, so don’t make it too late.”
“Yes, sir. Do you mind letting me use the bathroom now before we go?”
“Of course.” Mr. Reevesworth stood up and pulled Collin into his embrace, kissing the side of his head. “Proud of you, pet.”
Damian suggested a place about a twenty-minute walk away. Considering that the essential oils attack had happened less than a week before, they opted for a car to the relief of their security guy.
The restaurant was family style, casual, with hand-drawn murals on the walls and tables that were worn and dented but still beautiful since they were made of solid wood. Damian sat on one side, and Collin and Ash slid in on the other side of the booth. Their security guy positioned himself near the entrance of the room where he could watch.
Ash studied him for a few minutes. “Doesn’t he want to eat?”
Damian shook his head. “He doesn’t want to be distracted. I’ll send him a lassi to drink, but he’ll only snack while on duty.”
Collin nudged Ash with his shoulder. “He’s okay, really. And Mr. Reevesworth pays him a lot of money, I promise.”
Ash’s face twisted up, half uncomfortable, half thoughtful, but he let it go, looking at the menu.
Collin, however, shut his and pushed it toward Damian. “Order for me.”
“Pushy.” Damian raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, come on.” Collin folded his arms on the table and leaned forward until he was half lying on the surface, looking up at Damian. He batted his eyes. “Tell me you don’t want to order.”
Damian took Collin’s menu slowly. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
Collin giggled. “Consider it practice. I don’t know this place. You do. Teach us your ways.”
Damian sent Ash a careful look. “I could order family style so everyone could share and try more things.”
Ash looked between Collin and Damian. “What’s family style?”
Collin sat up, switching roles. “It’s where you put a lot of things in the middle of the table and everyone dishes a bit onto their plate. At least, I think that’s how it works for Indian food.”
