Touch And Go - Aiden Bates Page 0,43

up before we turned a corner into a particularly dirty laneway.

“Ouch. I’m only as old as Lethal Weapon.” I was amused by the talk of our age gap, but I was glad we were approaching it lightly.

“Huh?” He finally looked at me and squinted, confused. I loved his attention, and I dragged out the moment for as long as I could.

I spiraled my hand as if by motion alone I could jog his memory. “The movie?”

He rolled his eyes and looked over my shoulder. “Sure thing, Pops. Uh…hang on, let’s try turning left here.”

I glanced up and down a tight alley I’d certainly never been in before, and tried to sound nonplussed. “Are we lost?”

Seb smirked and winked, then elbowed my ribs and started walking again. “You know us kids these days, we need our phones to navigate.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve got to get you one of those. Remind me after dinner, I'll set you up with a kit.”

“A kit?”

“Phone, cash, an excuse to call out from work.”

He smiled, and my knees almost buckled. “A shit-climbing kit.”

I laughed, the sound escaping so quickly and loudly it shocked me when it echoed off the high walls on either side of the laneway. “Yeah. Almost everything you need to climb out of the shit. Got to make your own luck, though.”

He came to a sudden stop beside a graffitied wall topped with a barbed wire and motioned with his chin toward the half-broken wooden gate. “Zuconi’s.”

I looked over the top of my sunglasses and sized up the crumbling brick wall and the ramshackle warehouse attached. “Well, now, I feel overdressed.”

Yanked in by my arm, I was shocked to find a gorgeous courtyard restaurant packed with teens and twenty-somethings, sprawling on couches and benches. Seb led me through a winding path of built-up decks covered in cushions, plants, and hipsters, toward the indoor space where a DJ spun early ‘90s hip hop, and a bar served bright-colored cocktails. We skirted the full dance floor, bumped through the crowd, and wove around a gigantic wood-fired pizza oven and cooking station, to find our way to a quiet spot near the rear of the garden. We sat by an ivy-covered wall, beside a water feature with lily pads and a gentle fountain, lit by huge rose-colored lanterns hanging overhead among blooming wisteria.

He spread his arms and smirked. “Good?”

I turned in my chair to take it in. I was impressed, both by the beautiful space hiding in the back streets of my neighborhood, and that he’d led me there. “I can’t believe this is here. It’s huge, and I’ve never heard of it.”

That smirk flashed again, and my heart raced. “Yeah, cool kids only.”

I scoffed and glared at him, but I was secretly starting to like the way he ribbed me about our age, like every playful jab rubbed the sharp edges off the topic.

Seb leaned back in his chair and caught the attention of a waiter with bright pink hair, who practically screamed with delight as she rushed over and threw her arms around Seb.

“Bas-man!” She sounded as excited as I was about him.

“Julie, oh, how I have missed you.” He squeezed her back with his good arm.

My skin prickled with an undeserved jealousy, and I forced my politest smile.

“This is Derek, he’s kidnapped me.” Seb pointed to me, but kept his eyes on her.

I held up my hands in defense. “I—that’s not—”

“Lucky you.” Julie beamed at me and untangled herself from around Seb. “Thanks for keeping him out of society at large, he’s a menace.”

“Hey! I’m a good citizen!” He pouted. Kissable. So damned kissable.

Julie grabbed his jaw and squeezed his cheeks. “Are you kidding me? Walking around with this face? So cute that it should be illegal! Keep it off the streets. Right?” She turned to me and I managed a smile and a nod to play along while I was literally reminding myself to breathe, and scolding myself for thinking about what a cute couple they’d make.

Julie released Seb’s face with a gentle slap and grabbed her order pad from the back pocket of her ultra-tight jeans, while he rubbed his jaw and grinned at me.

“What can I get you, Bastian?” Julie clicked her pen.

He leaned back and cracked his neck, speaking casually. “You still doing those special margs with the red wine sauce—”

“And the rosemary mozzarella? Hell, yes, we are.” She nodded and made a note.

“Yes! Bring us a big one.” He turned that million-watt smile on me and I basked in