It had been two weeks since Christian had collided with Jazz, and he was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the whole encounter. But there he was, standing at the next stall, perusing some handcrafted leatherwork, talking to the stall owner before handing over some money. Then he straightened and looked straight at Christian over his shoulder, making it clear he’d known he was standing there the whole time.

Because his body was a traitor, Christian felt the blush start. Jazz’s eyes were even darker now, the harsh neon lights behind him and putting his face in shadow. But Christian could see the Cheshire cat grin appear on his face as he slowly made his way closer.

“Hey” Jazz said, when he arrived, standing close enough to touch.

“Hey.” Christian said, huffing out the word.

“I was wondering when I would see you again.” He said, voice low and warm.

Christian was pleading with himself to say anything, anything at all, but before he could force something out, Jazz went on. “You like night markets?”

“Yes.” Christian replied, ridiculously relieved when he finally spoke. “Well, my friend does. He brought me.”

Jazz tilted his head and looked at Christian appraisingly. “That would be the tall jock?” when Christian nodded, he said. “So he isn’t your boyfriend?”

Christian would have choked if he had been drinking, but as it was, his cup sat still clasped in his hands but forgotten. “No! I mean, no, he’s my best friend’s brother. He goes to college with us.”

Jazz smiled approvingly. “Great. I wouldn’t want to poach someone else’s game.”

An electric shiver go up his spine, but he smiled shyly. “You wouldn’t be.” He replied, feeling proud that he had managed to say something that wasn’t stupid.

Jazz fished something out of his jacket pocket. It was the bag he had gotten from the stall owner. Christian watched his movements closely as he opened it and pulled out a small bracelet: three leather strips, in three different shades of tan brown, braided together and made into a circlet with silver clasps. It was simple and elegant. Jazz unlatched the clasp and held it out, wordlessly, eyes asking permission.

Somehow, Christian managed to pull his arm from his pocket. Jazz took it, turning it over so the palm was facing up briefly sliding his thumb over the flat skin. Christian’s fingers instinctively curled before he could stop them. The other man pretended not to notice, but Christian caught a smug smile while he carefully closed the bracelet, locking it on the smallest link so that it wouldn’t slide off Christian’s narrow wrist. Then he caught Christian’s gaze again, grinning like he knew a secret. Christian swallowed.

“I don’t own jewelry.” Was all he could think of to say.

Jazz swung his head to the side and shrugged as if he were trying to affect shyness. He failed. Everything he did was cat-like, sharp, and lazy and confident. “It suits you.”

Christian didn’t care if it did or didn’t at that point. This entire encounter was electric and surreal, like putting one’s tongue to a battery.

“It has a price though.” Jazz said. “Your number.”

Some internal alarm finally went off. He never gave his number out. The phone he had only had two numbers in it anyway. But here was Jazz, who was very likely the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, looking at him like he was a meal…asking for his number.

“Um, would you mind if you gave me yours?” Christian managed. When Jazz raised his eyebrows in a mocking question, Christian lied. “New phone, I don’t know mine yet.”

Jazz took the phone from Christian’s hand, letting his fingers slide over Christian’s as he did. He seemed to detect the lie but found it amusing rather than insulting, and easily tapped his details into the phone. When he gave it back Christian glanced at what he had typed.

“Hiro?” Christian said, surprised.

Jazz nodded. “My given name. ‘Jazz’ is my stage name.” he straightened. “For my band.”

“Is that so?” Christian replied with a small half-smile.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

Christian gave him a clear once over, feeling a measure of boldness. He took in the ear piercings, the artfully shaggy hair, the black leather jacket, fitted denim jeans and the heavy doc martin boots. “Not really, no. I’m also guessing you don’t actually play jazz music.”

Jazz tossed his hair from his face laughing a low breathy kind of laugh. “Clever.”

Christian looked at the ground then and smiled self-deprecatingly, the shyness returned. “Not really.”

Jazz seemed about to say something when Brendan’s voice called from behind him. Christian’s head whipped around over his shoulder, Brendan was waving at him from a few stalls away, calling him over.

“I have to go.” Christian said, hoping he sounded only slightly regretful and not devastated.

Jazz eyed Brendan, with none of the friendliness Christian had thought was inherent in him.

“Hmm.” He said, then looked back at Christian. Slowly he reached up, and actually touched Christian mouth. Christians breathing stopped.

“I’m glad to see your lip healed nicely.” Jazz murmured, his eyes never leaving Christian’s mouth as he ran a rough thumb over Christian’s lower lip. Eventually, Christian woke up and jerked his head away, as if stung. The action had bypassed his brain and been purely instinctual, which raised a whole bunch of other weird feelings.

Immune to his odd reaction, Jazz only dropped his hand and the grin was back again.

“Well, Christian, you have my number.” He said, as he turned to walk away, looking like a cat that caught the canary. Christian let his eyes linger a bit before he returned to his friend, still feeling like he had touched a live wire.

“Who was that?” Brendan asked when Christian caught up with him.

Christian shrugged. “Some guy I know.” He made sure his hands were in his pockets, bracelet out of sight.

Brendan didn’t press the issue, and Christian hoped he didn’t notice the stain of the blush still on his face.