Derrick sat in Grind, his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. The morning was extremely cool for the spring, and the heat from the coffee felt good on his hands. He had been tense all morning.
He had no idea why he had called Jackson. Well, he knew why. He had enjoyed their night together, and he really wasn't getting much action anywhere else. It wasn't like he was trying though. He had his mind set on two things. Mia and Jackson. Mia had rejected him, and in her state he had to respect that, and Jackson... interested him.
He was supposed to be at Grind by ten, but like every other model Derrick had ever met, Jackson was late.
He found himself checking his phone, waiting for a text or a call. Something. He hadn't been like this since he was in high school.
Finally, around eleven Jackson made his entrance. It was one of those moments where the whole room seemed to slow down, and everyone's eyes were on the person walking through the door. It even seemed like a slight breeze had kicked up, blowing Jackson's perfect hair ever so slightly.
"You came." Derrick couldn't believe how happy he sounded.
"Yeah." The tone in Jackson's voice was not what Derrick had been hoping for. He was distracted, flip.
Jackson sat across from him, his eyes wandering around the coffee house. He seemed like that was the last place he wanted to be.
"I'm such an idiot." Derrick looked away, his voice soft, weak. He couldn't believe it. He had actually thought that maybe Jackson had wanted to spend time with him after their night together.
"No you're not." Jackson's eyes finally fell on Derrick. "I've just had a long morning. I've been talking to the police. I haven't even been in town for a month and I'm already getting interviewed about the murders."
"There's no point, right?' Derrick focused on his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man sitting across from him. "We can't even do the friend thing, can we."
"I didn't think that was something you wanted." Jackson flagged down a waiter. "From what I've been told you're the hump 'em and dump 'em type, right?"
"Yeah." Derrick cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath, trying to keep a clear head. "I had fun though. I thought maybe we could..."
"It's not a good idea." Jackson placed his hand over Derrick's. "You know that, I know that. We took our mind off of things for a night. That was all."
Derrick stood, throwing a ten down on the table. He shook his head. How could he have been so stupid?
"I'll see you at the studio later. They want more shots." Derrick looked away. He knew his face was turning beat red from humiliation.
Then he felt it, Jackson's hand on his arm. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Derrick started to melt, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't going to fall for that again.
On the way out he could feel his chest getting tighter. He had to blame it on all the drama. That was why he was throwing himself into... well, whatever the hell that was. That was the only reason. The murder, and Mia. That was what was driving him towards Jackson. Nothing else.
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