My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 16

The bar was noisy just as Adam had imagined, but as Assad had promised he had booked them a closed-off booth where the sound of music coming from the main area was dulled and the two could hear themselves talk instead of yelling over loud music and other people.

"What are you getting?" Assad asked, resting back on his seat as he peered over his drink menu to look at Assad.

"I don't know," Adam said looking down at the laminated menu. "I haven't had a drink in a long while." He couldn't recognize many of the names. It was either he had been a shut-in for too long and drink menus had changed or this bar had a lot of fun naming their drinks.

"We can get cocktails if you're worried about alcohol," Assad said. "Here, we can both get this," he went on, turning his menu so that Adam could narrow his eyes at the menu option he was pointing at.

"Cinderella?" Adam mouthed. It was such an odd name for a drink. Who came up with that? He wondered, squinting at the line of text some more in case he had read it wrong.

"It's pretty good," Assad said, watching as Adam sat up straight. "Do you want it?"

"Sure," Adam said. "I can have that with the poutine," he added, staring at the food section. It was mostly steaks, fries, poutine, and small snack bowls.

"Sounds like a plan," Assad said, looking behind him to call the waiter that had just passed by.

As they waited for their food the two sat in silence. Assad was going through his phone, and Adam stared at him trying to use his words. Usually, Assad would start the conversation, but he looked like he was doing something else to hold his attention and Adam was too nervous to bother him, so the man just stared at Assad, noting how good he looked in a casual dress shirt that hugged his biceps. The younger man had also braided his dreadlocks into a French braid, showing off the sharpness of his jaw.

Adam looked away when he started to feel his chest grow warm. He peeped up at the younger man again, not being able to stare down at his own hands for too long. Assad's face was more interesting—more aesthetically pleasing to look at. The younger man was handsome, and Adam could spend all day gawking at him if it wasn't classified as rude.

Assad looked up, catching Adam's gaze, and then grinned. "What are you thinking about?"

The question startled Adam, who blinked back a few times before opening his mouth. His cheeks burned, and he wondered if it would be okay to just admit to admiring Assad. They were together after all.

Boyfriends. Adam felt his insides squeeze up as the reality of the word dawned on him again for maybe the seventh time in the past few days. He couldn't get over his shock yet. Assad was his boyfriend. Assad was really his boyfriend.

"Adam?"

"I was just looking at you," Adam blurted before he could stop himself. He forced himself to look Assad in the eyes. "You look nice today." The man looked nice every day, but Adam decided it was less creepy to compliment him for how he looked now.

Assad blinked, looking down at the wooden surface of their booth before rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, thanks." He looked up again. "You look good too." Adam raised a brow. Was Assad flustered?

He didn't have much time to ponder on it, because Assad reached out to hold his hand. Adam's face fell to their joint hands. He stared as Assad used his thumb to rub circles in the inside of his palm. The gesture felt good. Calming.

"Are you okay?" Assad asked in a soft voice, and Adam knew the man was talking about the bar.

"Yeah," Adam said, being honest. Being closed off from the main bar that was filled to the brim with drunk people and techno music meant that he wasn't nervous or on the verge of a panic attack caused by being overwhelmed. "This is nice," he added, referring to the date in general.