Chapter 18: The Coat Room

The gala was held in the ballroom above the convention hall, and by ten Evan had shaken eighty hands.

A man from a bank wanted to give him money.

A woman from a government agency wanted to give him a job.

Every Red stayed at his shoulder through all of it, glowing, touching his sleeve whenever someone important arrived.

At ten past ten he said he needed to find his coat.

The cloakroom was down a service corridor, past the kitchens.

It was a long, narrow room with a counter at the front and rows of coats on rails behind it.

The attendant had gone to the bathroom, and a small lamp burned on the counter.

He had just found his jacket when the door opened behind him.

It closed.

The lock turned.

Evan did not need to look.

"You heard her," Ethan said, low.

"I heard every word."

"Then you heard me say I'm not on a side."

"I heard you not say no."

Ethan crossed the room in three strides.

His hand closed on the front of Evan's shirt, and he pushed him back into the coats.

They swung and rustled around them, wool and silk and a heavy smell of rain.

"I watched you up there," Ethan said hoarsely. "Two thousand people. You didn't even raise your voice."

"No."

"I've never wanted anything so much in my life."

His mouth came down hard.

It was a kiss with teeth in it.

Evan opened for it, and groaned, and Ethan's tongue pushed in deep while his hands tore open the buttons of Evan's shirt.

Evan's palms went flat on his chest.

For a moment he thought he would pull him closer.

Instead he shoved.

Ethan hit the bench against the far wall, and sat down, surprised, with his lips wet and swollen.

Evan stood over him.

"Not like that," he said. His breath was coming fast. "One minute."

"What?"

"One minute, Ross. I decide. You don't move."

Ethan stared up at him.

The lamp lit one side of his face.

Slowly, with his eyes on Evan, he laid both hands on the bench beside his thighs.

"One minute," he said.

Evan undid Ethan's belt.

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