Phaedra?”
Fritz turned his head so abruptly it almost made an audible snap. “What? Hey, KGB! Get your own date!”
After Fritz ran off to prevent anyone else from scoring points with his would-be girlfriend, Nakano realized he was the third member of a crowd, a position he refused to remain in. “All this hetero talk is making me thirsty. Later.”
Finally alone, Michael and Ronan stared at each other and smiled. The music changed abruptly from some alternative rock song to a lilting waltz. “Will you listen to that, they’re playing my favorite song,” Ronan joked. Michael laughed, but not completely. He was still unsettled since he knew he couldn’t dodge his father all night long. In fact, right at the moment, he felt as if a pair of eyes was staring down his back. He was half right; there were two pair.
“So it’s true,” Brania announced with Ciaran a few steps behind her. “You two do make an adorable couple.” When Michael turned around, he was prepared to thank her and accept the compliment because it was, after all, the truth. Instead he shouted, “Dad!”
“Sorry it took me so long to get over here,” Vaughan said. “But I had to make the rounds.”
Awkwardly Michael hugged his father, which he thought was the appropriate thing to do until he actually tried to do it, then he felt childish. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?”
“I thought I would surprise you.”
“Must be something in the air,” Ronan deadpanned, then smiled at his boyfriend’s father. “I’m Ronan. Michael’s friend.”
Vaughan shook his hand and immediately noted the strong grip. When he spoke, he tried to make his the tiniest bit stronger. “Edwige’s son. Your mother’s a lovely woman.”
“Thank you,” Ronan said. “However, I take no credit for how she turned out.”
Nervous about this father-boyfriend conversation, Michael felt the need to interrupt, so he told Vaughan something that he probably already knew. “And Ciaran’s my dorm mate.”
“Yes, we’ve already met,” Vaughan said dismissively.
Well, at least he’s acknowledged me, Ciaran thought. My own mother hasn’t even said hello.
“Brania, may I have this dance?” Vaughan asked. “I promised your father I would make sure you danced at least one proper waltz. You don’t mind, do you, Ciaran?”
His expression unreadable, Ciaran replied, “Not at all.”
After Vaughan led Brania to the dance floor, Ronan turned to his brother. “I’m glad you came.” But ignoring the sincerity in his voice, Ciaran walked away without saying a word.
Between Ronan’s mother, his father, his dorm mate’s surprise date, and Fritz’s punch, Michael’s head was spinning. “Could we please get out of here for a bit? There’s got to be a hidden passageway or an alcove somewhere that we can hide in for just a few minutes.”
Ronan smiled mischievously. “I know the perfect place.” He looked around quickly to make sure Vaughan wasn’t watching them and then grabbed Michael’s hand to lead him toward the far end of the gym. Just as they disappeared behind the tapestry depicting Uriel holding a sword engulfed by flames, Brania turned her head in their direction.
“I must admit I’m a bit disappointed you’re not Michael’s date this evening,” Vaughan said.
Closing her eyes to hear the music better, Brania replied, “I don’t think I’m your son’s type.”
“Oh, come now,” Vaughan scoffed. “Don’t give up so easily.”
Regardless of the century, men always think women speak to be contradicted. Will they ever be freed from their own ignorance? she wondered. And will they ever be capable of just listening to the music? One, two, three. One, two, three. How she loved the waltz. She let the soft, lingering notes of the violin glide through her and wished she could find a man who could touch her in the same way.
“Brania?”
Grudgingly, she opened her eyes. “Do you think I would have worn this dress if I were a quitter?”
Embarrassed, Vaughan abruptly lifted his gaze from Brania’s cleavage to her smirk. “It is, um, quite remarkable.”
Well, if she couldn’t fully enjoy the music, she might as well enjoy this man. He was, after all, just as handsome as his son. She pressed her body closer to Michael’s father and quickly realized someone else was already fully enjoying the moment. “At least one of the Howard men has noticed.”
The only thing the other Howard man noticed was how sweet Ronan’s lips tasted, thanks to the raspberry punch they had been drinking all night. Ronan had led Michael to a small closet that housed everything from extra gym equipment to towels to cleaning supplies. Standing among volleyballs and bottles of bleach was hardly a romantic setting, but the closet was out-of-the-way and very dark, so the boys could imagine they were kissing anywhere—in front of the cathedral, next to a well in an underground cave, away from a father’s disapproving glare.
“I’m sorry to make you go back in the closet,” Michael whispered, swaying lazily in Ronan’s arms to the rhythm of the waltz.
“I understand,” Ronan said, after kissing the palm of Michael’s hand. “As long as there’s room for the two of us in here, I’m happy.”
Michael brought his arms around Ronan. “There’ll always be room for you.”
The time for dancing was over. Ronan pushed Michael back and covered his lips in a flurry of kisses. The metal bar of the shelf pressed into Michael just below his shoulder blades, but he hardly felt it. His entire body was too busy reacting to Ronan’s touch as his strong hands moved up underneath his shirt to stroke his smooth chest. Michael arched his back and rolled his head from left to right, knocking over some bottles, all the while holding on to Ronan’s shoulders for support, afraid he would topple over from the excitement these new sensations were causing. Panting slightly, Michael grabbed Ronan’s hands and led them behind his back so he could rest a moment, but once Ronan’s mouth was close enough to kiss, all thoughts of resting were taken over by desire.
Tugging at Ronan’s shirt, Michael followed his instinct and soon found himself groping Ronan’s chest. Nothing, absolutely nothing, felt better than cool flesh over rock-hard stone. “My God, you feel so good,” Michael whispered.
“So do you, Michael,” Ronan said between kisses, his fingers desperately curious but trying to remain respectful as they played with the elastic band of Michael’s underwear. “Spend the night with me. Please.”
The darkness prevented Ronan from seeing Michael smile, but he could feel his lips move underneath his. “Well, since you said please, how can I say no?” Ronan didn’t respond verbally, but only kissed Michael deeper, pushing him harder against the shelf, which then collapsed, causing a box of volleyballs to topple on their heads. Cackling loudly, not caring if anyone heard them, Michael embraced his boyfriend and whispered in his ear, “I think it’s time for you to take me home.”
Back on the other side of Uriel’s tapestry, Ronan whispered to Michael to meet him at the front door, but just as he was halfway across the dance floor, his father interrupted him. “What’s going on?”
Still reeling from Ronan’s passionate embrace, Michael wasn’t levelheaded enough to feel frightened. He felt wonderful and he didn’t think to hide it from his father. “Ronan and I are leaving.”
“You and Ronan are what?” Vaughan noticed his son’s untucked shirt and a thought popped into his head, something unacceptable, something that he would not stand for. “I think it’s time you and I talked.”
Maybe more of St. Michael’s courage pulsed through his body or maybe he was just making up for lost time and felt the need to be defiant toward his father—whatever the reason, Michael didn’t back down. “We definitely need to talk, but I don’t think you’re ready to hear what I have to say.”
Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? Doesn’t he know who I am? Vaughan felt the fire rise from the pit of his stomach and scald his throat. “I did not go to all the trouble of bringing you here to lose out to some … to lose out to him!”
“I didn’t know that I was trouble, Dad,” Michael shouted. “I thought I was your son!”
Vaughan reached out to grab Michael by the arm as he stormed off but was sideswiped by some kids who ran onto the dance floor to catch the final chorus of the latest chart topper. He would have raced after his son if someone hadn’t grabbed him by the arm, someone who was a lot stronger than she looked. “Vaughan,” Edwige said, “I know you were once married to an American, but that’s no excuse for acting like one.”
She’s mighty powerful for a tiny woman. “Do you know what’s going on here?”
