Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Fifteen: I'd Envy My Position If I Weren't In It Right Now (1/2)

All the air must have been sucked out of the living room over the past hour, because very little of it had made its way into Josh's lungs.

When he'd suggested Emery's poetry readings might be up to Emma's exacting standards, he'd never pictured his own reaction to them. It hadn't been immediate — Emery had been doing these readings for over three months now — but, somehow, the man got better at it every single day.

His already deep voice became deeper, rich and smooth, like the flavor of thick hot chocolate on a cold winter night, or the feeling of silk sheets on naked skin. It didn't matter what he was reading — and Emma had been right about the quality of the poems; even a heathen like Josh could easily see most of the material was mediocre at best. Emery could mold the words, shape them to do his bidding, and Josh was enthralled.

Emery was used to garnering respect, something that had been obvious to Josh from their very first phone call, but that didn't mean he wasn't a generally unassuming man underneath the trappings of wealth and posturing — underneath the curt tone, the dismissive attitude, the impeccable wardrobe.

Commanding, Josh could deal with — had, in fact, dealt with — perfectly. This was something else.

It was a small mercy Emery didn't talk to people in his everyday life the way he read, or Josh had no idea how their first meeting might have been derailed.

He was on his final piece for the day, a trite sonnet written by either a toddler or a stalker; someone attempting to mimic Sonnet 18 by exalting their target's more mundane actions, and Josh had been left with the uncomfortable feeling they hadn't been granted leave to witness said actions in the first place. The only way Josh knew any of that was because he'd seen it on paper, before Emery had begun his reading. In Emery's voice, it transformed into a wicked account of spiraling obsession in fourteen lines. A hint of maliciousness lifted up a single corner of a smile that Josh was used to seeing as nothing but benign; a devilish glint brought a different light into warm brown eyes.

How Emma could so clinically decide something wasn't worth inclusion when all she had to judge it by was her brother's reading, Josh had no idea. If it'd been up to him and he hadn't seen the so-called poems on the page, he'd have made sure every single one of them made the cut.

It took him a moment to notice the silence in the room. It took him a second moment to realize he still hadn't taken his eyes off of Emery's, and the man was smiling at Josh in a way that was doing very little to help Josh drag said eyes away. It wasn't until he closed his jaw, with a click that he fervently hoped had been audible only to his own ears, that Josh came to the humiliating conclusion it had been hanging open before.

Emery's smile grew wider, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. After an hour reading, it was only natural to assume they'd gone dry, but Josh's brain short-circuited.

"I'm famished, and not particularly captivated by the idea of risotto tonight. Would you like to go out to dinner?"

Dinner? Was Emery inviting him to—

"Yes! Steak," Emma interrupted. "I'll take care of the reservations."

Josh had forgotten she was even in the room until she spoke. It wasn't entirely his fault; Emery's eyes had been on him when he'd issued his invitation.

"Go get primped up, minion. Fancy place. Be ready in an hour."

He was pleased beyond measure to be included in the invitation after all.

#

After showering and getting his hair just right, he was no longer pleased. 'Primped up,' she said, as if Josh had packed up anything formal. There was a turtleneck shirt and a blazer jacket he supposed might do in a pinch, but he'd brought nothing but jeans. He didn't even think he owned footwear outside the scope of high top Converse tennis shoes or CAT boots.