Cort reached out and squeezed Grey’s fingers, offering a shaky little laugh. “You never know. That information doesn’t always go over so great. Too many people are skeptical that I’ve got my degrees and shit.”
“Fucking racist assholes. I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve gone through, and I might not always say the right thing, but you can tell me if I fuck up.”
“Thanks.” Cort made a noise, and Grey imagined him shrugging. “Most of the time it doesn’t come up. Kind of nice. Since they’re blind, we don’t spend a lot of time talking about my appearance. But ummm…”
“Are you bald like Lucien?”
“Nope. I keep it short in a fade.”
“Must make mornings easy.”
Cort chuckled. “Anything that makes mornings easy is a very good thing. When you see me, I’ve already had two cups of coffee.”
“Thank God. I didn’t want to think you woke up chipper each day.” Cort released his hand. “What’s your expression now? Are you frowning?”
“Not frowning so much as this is my worried face.”
“Is that usually the expression you have around me? Your voice usually doesn’t sound worried.”
“How does it sound?”
“Sarcastic. Teasing. Laughing. You laugh easily. It’s nice.”
Wrappers crinkled for a moment, and something soft was taped over the wound on his knee. “Most of the time I am happy. You’re a funny guy and you live with some funny friends. Being here doesn’t feel like work. Just hanging out with some friends. You make me smile.”
But Grey answered with a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got pieces floating around in my head now, but I can’t pull them all together for a single image.”
“For some people it works. For some, it doesn’t. Can you see a smile in your mind?”
“Yeah.”
“Then concentrate on that.”
Grey hummed. “So, tall, short hair, great smile. How old?”
“Thirty-three. As I told you, I got my bachelor’s degree in occupational therapy and psychology. My master’s is in vision rehabilitation therapy. I’m originally from South Carolina, where I grew up with my mother and sister. I moved to Savannah just over a year ago.” Cort gently took Grey’s left hand and turned it so it was resting palm-side up on the table. There was a soft glug of water in a container, and then something soft and damp was rubbed across his palm. More peroxide on scrapes, maybe. “Any other questions for me?” he asked, sounding so very smug.
“Lucien also said you’re sexy. Wiley agreed.”
There was a long silence before Cort gave a nervous chuckle. “Are you asking if I think I’m sexy?”
“Nope. Just repeating what I heard.”
“Then tell them thanks, I guess.” For the first time since he’d met the man, Cort sounded a little uneasy. As if Grey had finally located ground that Cort didn’t feel comfortable with.
Grey sat for a moment, poking at his jaw with his tongue. It kind of felt wrong not to say anything. Lucien was a great guy, and he was clearly interested in Cort. And his therapist was also a great guy, and he deserved to be happy. Just because something in Grey absolutely hated the idea of Lucien dating Cort didn’t mean he should keep them apart. He’d watched Clay and Baer fall happily in love. He wanted the same for Lucien. It was just a shame that he couldn’t see if Cort was his soul mate.
Just as he was taking a breath to speak, Cort spoke up.
“Are you and Lucien dating?”
Grey’s head jerked upright, his hand pulling in Cort’s. “No. We’re friends. Just friends. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was wondering, because I noticed that the other four people in the house were couples, but then there was you and Lucien…”
“Oh, no. Only friends. He is a great guy, though. Funny, intelligent, caring. I know he’d like to go out with you if you’re single.”
“Ummm…”
“Wait. Shit. Are you straight? Shit, I’m sorry. All my friends are gay, and I’m bi. I think I’ve started to believe my whole world is like that and—”
Cort’s deep laugh stopped Grey’s stumbling words. “Man, I’m gay. It’s good. I’m just giving you shit.”
Grey reached out his free hand, trying to swipe at Cort but he could feel the man pull away just enough to stay out of his reach as he laughed harder. “Asshole. You’d be perfect for Lucien. He’s good at being an asshole too.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think Lucien is my type.”
Cocking his head to the side, he tried to focus on Cort’s words rather than think about the feeling of loss when Cort released his hand and started to gather up all his supplies on the table. “No offense to your friend. He seems like a really nice guy, but he strikes me as more of a sports car and I’m more of a…”
“Minivan?” Grey supplied.
“Watch it. I’ve never slugged a patient, but you’re asking for it.” Grey snickered at Cort’s threat, not believing for a second that he was in danger. “I was thinking more of an entry-level BMW or Lexus. Just a little bit fancy, but reliable. I’ll get you where you’re going and make sure you enjoy the ride.”