were more alike than they were different.
“You ever been to one of his performances?” Jay asked.
Adam laughed and shook his head. “We actually just met like two weeks ago. My niece ran off, and he basically saved her from certain death.”
Jay gave him a long, calculating look. “You know, I called that fool out the other day after hearing him on his piano, but he didn’t come to see me. You must be the reason. He said he was just busy.”
Adam flushed and glanced away. “I didn’t mean to like…steal him.”
Jay laughed and nudged him. “I’m not mad about it. If he’s ditching me to hang out at your shop, it means he likes you.”
Adam both did and didn’t want to hear that. It was too much and not enough, and there was no resolving it until he got to know Nik better. So, he chanced a smile and shrugged. “He’s a good guy. He was great with my niece, and his music is pretty bad ass.”
“You play?” Jay asked, jutting his chin toward the stage where the grand piano sat alone, unlit, looking strange against the backdrop of a blue velvet curtain.
Adam snorted and shook his head. “Guitar only. I was in a DIY punk band for a while, but nothing like this.”
“He’s always up my ass about teaching me, but I got two left hands.” Jay held them up, his impossibly long fingers stretching wide—calloused at the knuckles, scraped from falls, oval nails bright and jagged at the tips. He had the kind of hands Adam envied—hands that looked like they belonged on a man.
His were short and fat, too delicate to really be capable of much, even if he gnawed his nails down to the quick and let his fingertips callous from guitar strings until they cracked and peeled. There were parts of him that didn’t feel wrong until he was sitting next to a guy like Jay, and the ugly voice inside him whispered that maybe he was what Nik wanted instead.
“Have you guys been friends long?” Adam forced himself to ask.
Jay laughed and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feels like forever. We just missed each other in school—he’s like six years older than me. His brother usually does their clothes shopping, but he stormed into the skate shop one day thinking it was the suit store two doors down after he had an allergic reaction to wool.”
Adam chuckled. “Oh, damn.”
“I offered to walk him over to find a shirt, but we had some nice ones on display, and then he started showing up once or twice a month. It just…happened after that. He has a way of growing on you until you forget what it was like to not know him.”
That hit Adam hard, like a gut punch, but he couldn’t do anything except nod. It had been weeks, and the idea of Nik had already woven itself around every facet of his life. He sank a little deeper into his seat, wrapped his arms a little tighter around himself, and couldn’t find the words to reply.
Luckily, he didn’t need to. The auditorium was almost completely full. The seats on either side of him and Jay had all been occupied, and a few moments later, the house lights turned down. The orchestra pit lights were on, but dim, and in the dark shadows, Adam was able to make out Nik walking toward the mic with his cane out in front of him.
The sight made him smile, made him soft inside. In spite of the way Jay’s words had shaken him, he found he didn’t care when the lights rose again, and he stared at Nik’s smiling face. The mic gave a little feedback as Nik touched it, and the crowd hushed when he cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice rising in the speakers. “Thank you so much for taking the time to come out here tonight. I know a lot of you have traveled from out of state, and your support means the world to me and my students. For those of you who might not know me, my name is Yanik Mandroux—a French mouthful, I know. All those vowels.” He paused as the crowd tittered a laugh, and somehow, Adam felt even softer in his gut. “I’m a classically trained pianist with the Conservatori de Rossi and the Manhattan School of Music. I was a performer before I settled here, and it’s been my pleasure to take on these