"Yes, it isn't far. Rhea's Bar, do you know it?"
"The one on East Sixteenth?"
"Yeah, so that's my place.” He stopped and glanced at Luka, who was watching him with interest. "Hey, Luka, you want my phone?" He appeared to consider the option of watching Jared and his dad talk or the lure of games on the phone. After a pause, he nodded and then lost himself in Lemmings, although Jared noticed he was glancing up every so often to check on the conversation.
"It was what?"
"Mine and my wife's place, but she passed when Luka was younger."
"He told me, I'm sorry for your loss." Jared watched as emotions raced across Nate’s face and made his eyes darken momentarily. There was a stiffness in the way Nate controlled his reaction, as if letting himself relax would lead to something awful. "So, yeah, anytime you're over that way, come in, and I'll pour you a beer or make you a fancy cocktail."
"You had me at ‘cocktail.’"
"It always works," Nate agreed.
"But you already bought me dinner. You don't have to keep thanking me."
Nate shuddered. "When I imagine what could have happened…" He paused a moment, and a mask of normal slipped over his tired expression. "So tell me about you. You're studying psychology, does that mean you're assessing people every time you talk to them?" He smiled widely, putting a protective arm over Luka's shoulder. "Are you doing that to me now?"
This conversation had gone straight past polite hello and where-you-from to banter in a microsecond, and Jared's chest tightened. Many factors influenced attraction, and Jared was already scrutinizing how he and Nate were interacting. There were a ton of tells when attraction existed between two people. Banter and leaning in were two obvious ones, and Jared couldn't even begin to think about the way Nate licked his lower lip. There was a ton of silent messages from Nate. They ranged from an unconscious need to hug his son to the way he wanted to turn the conversation from serious to fun, or that he wouldn't quite meet Jared's gaze. He was nervous, anxious still, and Jared bet his stomach was a ball of nerves. So Jared did what he knew best. He began to manage the situation and forged ahead to find common ground.
He hadn't even realized he was doing it until he opened his mouth and began to talk.
"Do you like to people-watch?" Jared asked. That was always where he began his explanation of psychology to anyone who asked him.
"I work behind a bar. I people-watch all night."
"Okay, so as a barman, you can tell when someone has come in to drown their sorrows, or to celebrate, or to find company. Right?"
"Mostly. You get a feel for it, yes."
"See, that is a skill that you have learned from countless encounters, and when you're listening to people, you're reading them. I do the same kind of thing when I accidentally try and help people without realizing it. Also, it might seem weird when I stare at another person and they see me doing it. So in answer to your question, I can't help assessing on a hundred different things."
For a moment, Jared thought he'd messed up, but then Nate grinned and sat back in his chair. "So what do you see?"
"A dad who loves his son."
Nate pulled Luka close, only letting go when Luka squeaked about the game and how his umbrella wasn't working.
"Daaad," he whined.
Nate pressed a kiss to Luka's hair and then turned to Jared. "That one was easy. Tell me something more."
This was a minefield. There were a ton of non-verbal clues that Jared had picked up, but he wasn't going to mention them.
"I knew your bar was called Rhea's Bar before you told me."
Nate's jaw dropped. "Luka told you?"
"Nope."
"You've seen me there?"
"Nope."
"Then, how?"
Jared pointed at Nate’s jersey, a deep amber in color, with a Rhea's Bar logo on his chest, and couldn't help laughing when Nate glanced at the emblem then back up at him with narrowed eyes. "That's cheating."
"Nah, it's just observation."
"What else do you see then?"
Luka had wriggled out of his dad's hold, so Nate was free to lean forward on his elbows, and Jared was lost in his velvet-brown eyes. He wondered if he noticed the brilliance of them because Luka wanted to hire him as a boyfriend for his dad. Were his observations tainted by this flush of attraction he was feeling?
"Okay, so you're a dad, and you work at Rhea's Bar." He counted the two things off on his fingers, "And you don't like baseball."
"How did you… what did I… I didn't say anything about baseball. Luka must have said that because there's no jersey evidence this time."
"Nope, he said nothing. It's all observation. When you came in, you glanced at the television over the bar which is showing an old Yankees game, and you then chose a table and sat with your back to it."
"Maybe I love baseball, and I knew I'd stare at the screen, so I sat facing this way to be polite." Nate rested his chin on his hands, and Jared could see the interest in his gaze—he could’ve spent all day pretending to be Sherlock Holmes if Nate kept looking at him like that.
"No sports fan, no real one anyway, would miss out on the chance of having their beloved sport at least in their peripheral vision. Failing that, to at least comment on what they see, like, oh yeah, this was a close game or something."
"I'll have you know that I'm a very polite person. I never want to appear rude to anyone."
"But I'm right."
Nate bit his lip, holding back a smile, and then shook his head. "I don't hate baseball. It's just that I'm more of a hockey fan. Go Rangers."
"We've been to see them," Luka chimed in. "It was cold and noisy, and I loved it. We had so much popcorn I was almost sick."
"You did not," Nate defended his parenting skills, then grimaced. “It was the hotdog that pushed it over.
