Geb took a sip of cheap white wine, which was thrust into his hand as soon as he and Robin set foot into the gallery, a white, spacious, rectangular room with short wall barriers in the middle. There were also two large walls that divided the length of the room to the middle of it, one on the left and one of the right. That and the fact that, after Robin rang the bell beside the sign, "Bella Gallery," they had to climb two storeys, told Geb that the gallery was actually three lofts merged into one space.
Geb's gaze travelled over the room; he could appreciate the high ceilings and the white beams that arched above, but the art... He focused his eyes on the image before him. The colourful, retro-looking circles and squares on black canvas, with random specks of colour at the edges of the painting, definitely wasn't his thing. Marshall was right, this was boring.
He took another small sip of the wine and tried not to grimace at the sour taste. He would probably feel differently if Robin were still here with him, enthusiastically babbling about his impressions of the paintings as he had been doing until some old schoolmate spotted him and dragged him away to talk about the old times. Actually until that point Geb had been enjoying himself, he enjoyed the sound of Robin's velvet voice, smooth as an old, good quality cognac, the sight of Robin's lighted face, and the small touches that Robin bestowed on him while he talked.
He moved to the next picture. This time there were colourful blots inside of the orange circle on the black canvas.
"Very intense, don't you think? You have to be really energetic to have something like that in your living room."
Geb turned. There beside him stood girl dressed in a black tunic and black jeans, with her long blonde hair gathered into a high ponytail. "Indeed."
"Hello. You came with Robin, didn't you?"
When Geb nodded, she extended her right hand. "Linda Webster. The artist. And also Robin's friend."
"Geb Karson." Geb put the glass of wine in his left hand, took her hand and shook it.
"This is the first time Robin brought somebody with him." Her brown eyes were measuring Geb. "You must be pretty special."
"Maybe I am." Geb gave her one of his charming smiles, then turned his back to her and went toward the next painting. This time it was a yellow square.
She followed him. "How is he?"
"Ok, I guess. Why don't you ask him yourself?"
"I did. He says he is fine. But he is always fine." Linda turned sideways; her gaze found and zoomed in on Robin who talked with three people in the corner of the room, only the side of his body visible. "He never tells me anything. And I have been his best friend since kindergarten."
"I see." Geb also turned, his gaze followed hers.
Linda's eyes were on Geb again. "So, where did you two meet? And how did you manage to get past his defences? Have you been dating long?"
"You are really nosy." Geb stared at her. "I don't know you, why should I tell you anything?"
"I'm his friend, I should know those things, but if he doesn't tell me, I have to find somebody who will, don't I?" Linda said. ". I mean, I'm his friend, damn it, but he never confides in me. Never. I didn't even know he was gay until he ended up in hospital, beaten almost to death because of that, that bastard…" She clenched her hands, took a deep breath, unclenched her hands again and took another deep breath. She looked at Geb and gave him a small, apologizing smile. "Sorry about that, I got a little carried away."
Geb blinked, his mind on 'Beaten almost to death?', but when he opened his mouth, he didn't inquire about that. "There's nothing you should be sorry about, you care for him and worry about him, that's all."
"Yeah," she nodded.
"It must have been horrible for you, when he was in hospital."
"Yeah, but not as horrible as when he got out. He was so hurt, physically and psychically - I mean who wouldn't be, in his place, betrayed like that - and he wasn't letting anybody close. Not me, not his parents, nobody. He was just brooding on his own and it just made me feel so helpless."
Geb nodded, a sympathetic expression on his face.
"But at least he is not a weak high-school boy anymore." Linda gave Geb a warm smile, then her eyes were on Robin again. "I just wish he wouldn't try to go through everything alone. You know how he is."
No, Geb didn't know, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He smiled to Robin, who at that moment looked over his shoulder.
Robin smiled back, his brown eyes on Geb; then those eyes moved, they landed on Geb's blonde companion and the smile was wiped from Robin's face. He said something to his companions and rushed toward them.
Geb watched Robin's approach; he took a sip of the wine and grimaced. He had forgotten how sour the wine was.
"Linda, I see you have already introduced yourself to Geb." Robin pushed his way between Geb and Linda, putting his hand on Linda's shoulder. "Did you tell him what a sought-after artist you are?"
"No. I-"
"She really is. This is her second show and she's already sold -- Oh, I'm such a clutz. I'm sorry."
Geb looked at the liquid that dripped down the front of his black leather jacket. He wrinkled his nose, that was going to smell.
"I'm so sorry, Geb." Robin produced a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dab at the wetness on Geb's jacket.
Geb pushed his now empty glass into Linda's hands, then he took the handkerchief from Robin's hand and continued wiping off his jacket. "Where is the toilet?"
"I'll show you." Linda said.
"It's ok, I know where it is; I'll show him." Robin gave Linda a smile. "You go and mingle." He took Geb's free hand and pulled him along as he went toward the white door at the end of the room. When the door of the toilet closed behind them, Robin let go of Geb's hand and leaned on the wall perpendicular to the sink and the big mirror.
"Was this necessary?" Geb took the jacket off and turned on the faucet. He took a handful of paper towels, wetted them under the water and started to clean his jacket, hoping that the wine or the water wouldn't leave any stains.
"What do you mean?"
Geb tossed the used towels into the trash bin and took new ones, this time using them dry. "I mean ruining my favourite jacket. On purpose."
"I didn't-"
"Don't act stupid."
"I'm sorry. I will buy you a new one."
Geb tossed the towels he'd been using into the bin. Yeah, right, the jacket in his opinion wasn't that expensive, but he doubted that Robin could afford it ; Michael did pay his waiters well, but not that well. He showed Robin the tag that was inside at the seam of the collar. "Are you sure?"
"Dior." Robin frowned. "Don't tell me you are one of those guys who spend a fortune on his clothes, cosmetics and for trips to the spas."
"Take out the cosmetics and I can say 'yes' to that." Geb put his jacket back on.
"You are spoiled."
"I work hard, I deserve a massage here and there, and since you are not willing to give me one, I have to go to the massage therapist." With one step, Geb trapped Robin against the wall. "Now, tell me what the point of your clumsiness was or …"
"Or what?"
With his arm at the side of Robin's head, Geb leaned on the wall. "Or I'm going to kiss you."
"You said you were not going to molest me anymore." Robin put his hands against Geb's chest.
"I'm not molesting you, I'm threatening you." Geb's eyes were on Robin's lips. "Now, tell me or--"
Robin pressed his lips against Geb's, shutting him up.
Geb's eyes widened when Robin's tongue pushed its way into his mouth, slid over the roof of his mouth, over his teeth. Then his eyelashes fluttered closed. So good. Why did Robin have to taste and feel so good? He pressed himself closer to Robin and pushed his tongue against Robin's. The warmth pooled in his stomach and he wanted to press himself even closer, to feel Robin with every inch of his skin. He wanted to stay like that forever, to be drowning in this blissful delight that was so intense his chest tightened and his heart felt like it was about to explode. With his teeth giving a small, sensual tug on Robin's lower lip, Geb ended the kiss and leaned with his forehead on Robin's.
They stayed like that for a moment or two before Geb pushed away from the wall and from Robin. He leaned his hip on the edge of the sink. He didn't want this, this intense feeling that Robin gave him. He ran his fingers though his hair. But what could he do now? Nothing. There was nothing he could do now. It was too late. Michael was right: He was in love.