...Simon filled his glass and took a sip of the wine, letting the full flavor linger on his tongue. “You’re my oldest friend here in France. And one of the few I’ve wanted to keep.”

“Because I feed you.”

“You feed me the best food I’ve ever eaten.” Simon tilted his head. “We’ve established what I get from the relationship. Why did you take the time to make an effort for me?”

“You were never an effort. You…” His fingers caressed the back of the bench, slow, languid movements as if it was impossible for him to be still, even here. “I never had to try and pretend with you. You’ve always taken what I’ve offered, and accepted it. Without judgment.” There was another flash as he lifted his glass to his smiling mouth. “And you have exquisite taste.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I had the audacity to demand a meeting with the most talented young chef in Paris, then.” He covered Alain’s hand with his for a moment, feeling the map of burns and cuts on his skin that bespoke of years in a kitchen, and squeezed his fingers quickly. “I’m glad you chose to take your first holiday here. I’ve missed seeing you.”

Alain downed the rest of his wine in a long swallow, but rather than hold it out for another refill, he bent down to rest it on the ground at their feet. That left his hand free when he straightened, and Simon was surprised to feel it come to rest on his bent knee.

“I wonder if it’s necessary for us to feel quite so lonely while I’m visiting,” Alain said. “I wonder that quite a bit, actually.”

Simon studied the hand on his knee for a beat, though it wasn’t completely unusual. Alain often became casually affectionate the more he drank. And Simon didn’t have any problem with being touched. But this felt a little different somehow.

“I haven’t felt lonely since your arrival.”

“Neither have I. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Weeks? Earlier you made it sound like this was a more recent decision as you planned for the holiday.”

“Oh. Did I?” Alain grimaced, though he didn’t pull back from where he touched Simon. “Well, I suppose I’ve been found out then.”

“Yes, you have. But I can forgive you for deceiving me. If you had a good reason.”

Alain didn’t respond. The fingers on Simon’s knee stretched, moved along the inside of his thigh in a gesture more suited for lovers than friends. His mouth opened to comment on how the wine was affecting Alain tonight, but then the man in question slid slightly closer, the hand resting upon the back of the bench now tickling along Simon’s nape.

“I guess I thought that if you knew the truth, you’d disappear,” Alain said quietly. “You are very good at that, you know. There were times when months would go by, when I knew you were traveling, and I would think of you and wonder if I would ever see you again.”

“You should know that I always find my way back to Paris, even when I think I never want to see that damned city again.” Simon kept his voice light, but it made a rather shocking contrast to Alain’s serious tone, and his even more serious touch. That contrast, more than anything else, made Simon uncomfortable, and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He swallowed and tried again. “I’d never disappear on you, Alain. Our friendship means too much to me to harm it like that.”

“Just our friendship?” The caresses lengthened, though they still remained more heat than touch. “There was one night, when things might have gone differently for us. Remember how hot it was? How much we had to drink?”

“I remember very well. We had far more to drink that night than we did tonight.” Simon gripped Alain’s wrist and gently guided his hand back to his own lap. “And that night was a long time ago.”

A wry smile tipped Alain’s mouth. “Ah, so I’m too old for you now.”

“No. It’s not your age. It’s just…you’re my dearest friend. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

“But it’s because you’re my dearest friend that I’d like for something to come between us.” Alain sat up, suddenly more alert. “You and I…we have no secrets. There are no games. No…competition. This seems like the perfect basis to try something new, something better.”

He was right, of course. Simon had never had such an easy relationship with another person, and he always suspected that was because they were only friends. Games and secrets went hand-in-hand with romantic entanglements, in Simon’s experience. He had been tempted once or twice to try to push things between them to another level, but ultimately, it had always been too easy to imagine a scenario in which they would try for more and lose everything in the process.