Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 62 - El Fin

"Well," Damien whispered, leaning back in his chair, "this is boring."

And unfortunately, he was right. The ballroom of The Prince Hotel looked even better than the other two times Lucas had seen it: round tables with white tablecloths, candle flames flickering in clusters of tealights at the centre. The silverware shone under the chandeliers high overhead, setting the gold accents on the edges of the room aflame. The floor had been polished until Lucas could practically see his face in it, a wide space left in the middle, presumably for dancing. All around them, well-dressed people chatted and laughed and took sips from elaborate glass champagne flutes. Damien had tried to snag some champagne from a nearby waiter, but Lisa was at their table, and one firm look had put a stop to that at once. The threat of calling his mother was imminent, and since he was supposed to be grounded Damien wisely chose not to push it.

Despite the glamour, it was dull. The only person their age in attendance was Cameron, who hadn't deigned to speak to either of them. Lucas glanced his way and found him on the other side of the ballroom, deep in conversation with a man with the same chestnut wave of hair, though it thinned at the temples. Damien had followed his eyeline, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Almost immediately, he put a hand on Lucas' thigh underneath the tablecloth.

Which, while not the intended outcome, was certainly an added bonus. Lucas had no intention of approaching him, but he did like the weight on Damien's hand on him, warm enough to be felt even through his suit.

"Let's get out of here," Damien said, leaning in a little closer so as not to be heard by the people either side of them. "C'mon."

"You don't want to eat anything? You'll get hungry." Lucas had eaten the entrée he'd been offered, but Damien's still sat untouched on his plate.

"Nope. I think I can survive without eating whatever 'dehydrated egg yolk' is."

"You never know. It might become your new favourite food." Lucas countered, though he had to admit the morsel on Damien's plate, raw meat in a strange white mash topped with yellow flakes, did not look overly appealing. It'd tasted fine, but had left a decidedly odd, sharp aftertaste.

"Somehow, I really doubt that."

They crossed the ballroom swiftly, slipping past adults who paid little attention to them. With a wink and a smile, Damien snagged two champagne glasses from a passing waiter, who thankfully didn't question him. Lucas opened his mouth to make a comment about the illegality, about how Damien was already in enough trouble with his parents as it was, but even as he thought it he realised it didn't matter. The rules could be forgotten, for one night. Champagne might even be nice. He accepted the glass Damien handed to him, fighting the urge to laugh as they stepped out into the main hallway.

It was quieter here. None of the guests had trickled out, so apart from the hum of mingled conversation drifting through the open doors behind them, the hall was near empty, with only one or two actual hotel guests passing to and from their rooms. Immediately, Lucas' eyes were drawn to the storage closet. It was closed.

"It might not be locked?" Damien asked, and before Lucas could respond he was at the door and trying the handle, to no avail. "Worth a shot."

Lucas sighed, but it came out as more of a laugh. "Classy, thank you."

"I am the height of class, Lucas. Glad I'm being appreciated."

"So appreciated." Lucas said, standing up on his toes to kiss Damien on the cheek. "And I don't mean to question Mr. Height of Class, but what exactly are you planning? Are we going for a walk?" A romantic nighttime stroll, he could get behind that.

Damien shook his head. "Nah. I've got a better idea."

"Should I be worried?"

"No, you should trust your amazing boyfri-ah. There."