A Million Dreams to Fulfill

sequel to the world in an hourglass

It's all Brad's fault. Brad and his stupid ideas and his inability to be in places he is supposed to be at any given time. He convinced Adam to go to the ball and ditched him there. Then he invited Adam to the same place for a drink and then ditched him again. Adam needs better friends. He certainly needs better ex-boyfriends.

He is glad that at least this time he thought to bring a book along. After standing alone under that stupid tree and waiting for Brad for hours the last time, he knows better than to trust him to be on time. Plus he knows himself. He will be a nervous wreck, going back to the scene of the crime, even though he knows those waiters were all probably hired for the night only, he can't help it. His stomach flutters in a not-so-pleasant way at the mere thought.

The book isn't very interesting, but it beats sitting there staring into his beer. He reads about a mystery he couldn't care less about for half an hour before he decides to go ahead and call Brad, even though he knows it's a futile attempt; Brad never answers his phone. But as he moves to reach into his jeans pocket to get his phone, his elbow collides with his forgotten bottle of beer and it clatters down on the glass surface of the bar. Adam grabs the book to get it out of the way, but can't seem to get a handle on the bottle with just one hand—the damn thing keeps slipping out of his grasp. Just as he is about to stand up and get out of range so it can fall wherever the hell it pleases, another hand joins his to help him out. Adam looks up to offer a thankful smile and freezes.

It's the guy from the ball. The waiter with the cute smile. And he is looking right back at him like he has recognized him. Adam feels a wave of panic hit him. This is not good.

The guy pulls Adam's hand away from the neck of the bottle to turn it around. He runs a finger over Adam's tattoo. Adam shivers at the familiar feeling—it was amusing that night, how fascinated the guy was with a simple thing like his tattoo; right now it's more like torture. He pulls his hand back as if he was burned. He rubs the skin with his other hand unconsciously, and thinks, there go the denial plans.

"Nice tattoo," the guy says, sounding shocked. Adam can't blame him. He doesn't know how he would have reacted had something like this ever happened to him, but shock would certainly be a part of it. Anger, Adam thinks, should also make an appearance any time now.

He looks down, trying to come up with a way to make the guy understand that it was never his intention to deceive or hurt anyone. He was there just for fun, because of stupid Brad and his stupid ideas, and he got carried away, but there was no lie to anything he said or did with this guy. Except of course the obvious, and he doesn't think he can get away with the technicality of never having said he was a woman.

"I'm sorry," he says finally. He doesn't feel the need to clarify what about. The guy sure knows what he is sorry about. "I didn't plan it or anything. It was a masquerade ball."

And that's the lamest excuse ever, Adam thinks. No idiot would ever accept that excuse, and this guy looks nothing like an idiot. He is a bit naive maybe, but that's kind of his allure.

Adam sneaks a glance, but quickly looks away. He can't bear to see anger and accusation in the soft brown eyes he liked so much. It would forever ruin his image of that night, and he would like to remember it fondly in the future. It was an experience, to say the least.

The guy stays quiet, but keeps staring, and after a couple of minutes, it starts to get to Adam. The guilt and the shame are already weighing down on him, he doesn't need the added burden.

"Could you please stop staring?"

Adam knows he has no right to be asking this guy for any favors. In fact, he should be packing up to leave—he already apologized and has nothing more to offer here. But his hands are balled into fists and his feet refuse to move. When he finally moves, it's not his own doing. The guy's hand is on his chin, gentle, just like Adam remembers, and he tilts Adam's face up. His finger brushes Adam's bottom lip and Adam finds that his stomach is invaded by a swarm of butterflies. The guy is looking at his mouth, staring as if hypnotized, and his gaze is surprised and intrigued and adoring—just like that night.

"I can't help it," the guy says in a low voice. "You are the most beautiful man in the room."

Adam feels his eyes growing wide. His mind completely blanks out. Is this guy for real? This is his reaction to finding out that the woman who gave him head was actually a man? He isn't angry? At all? Looking into his eyes, Adam has to say, no, he is really not angry. At all.

Adam smiles, feeling the finger on his lips slipping away. "I thought you liked the mask?"

The guy smiles back. "I think I like you better without it."

~

They spend about fifteen minutes just staring at each other and smiling stupidly. It doesn't even occur to them to make proper introductions. It's the girls in the corner that interrupt them finally, and the guy heads over to take their orders. Adam pulls his eyes away from the guy's ass to focus on calming down and breathing deep for a few seconds. He needs to pull it together. He screwed things up once. He can't afford to do it again.

When he looks back up, the guy is talking to another employee. He offers Adam a smile when their eyes meet and points toward a corner booth in the back. Adam doesn't get it until the guy ducks out from behind the bar and heads that way himself. Adam grabs his things, slightly flustered and fumbling, and follows dutifully. He drops his bag on the floor next to the booth and moves to take the seat on the other side, only to be stopped halfway there.

Giving him a look, the guy grabs Adam by the hand and slides down the seat to pull him down next to him.

"This is much better," he says when Adam flops down.

Adam just stares at him. What kind of a person does that? This guy looks so reserved and yet...here they are.

"Kris Allen," he says, holding a hand out.

Adam takes it in his but doesn't shake it. "Adam Lambert."

He likes the feel of Kris' hand in his, so he brings their hands down between them to rest on his thigh. Kris doesn't pull away. Apparently, Adam gets to do this now.

"Adam," Kris says, like he's tasting the name. He looks down at their hands and curves one of his fingers up to run it over Adam's palm. "So this is strange," he states, smiling in a way that says he likes this kind of strange.

"You're telling me," Adam says, shaking his head. "Why aren't you angry? You should be angry."

Kris' smile widens to show his small white teeth. "I should?"

"Well, yes. For all intents and purposes, I lied to you, and used you, and—"

"Woah," Kris says, squeezing Adam's fingers in his. "There was no using. And the lying, I can excuse, because it was a masquerade ball, and I don't think it said no sex changes in the invitations."

"Still, it was a pretty big omission on my part."

"Look," Kris says, scrunching his face in the cutest way possible. "I'm not—I never—I mean. I'm normally mostly straight. So I don't know if I would have stared at you so intently or kissed you at all if you were dressed as a guy. But we did kiss and uhm. Well. We did. And I looked for you afterwards. A lot. So if I'm not in a hurry to send you away now, it's because I thought about finding you practically every day since that ball."

Adam doesn't know what to do with someone like Kris. What Kris is saying would make a good fairytale, but it makes no sense out in the real world.

"Sounds like a fairytale," he says to break the silence.

"And you didn't even leave me a slipper," Kris quips.

Adam clears his throat. He doesn't know what to say, where to start. Would you like to be my boyfriend, sounds so inane after all this talk of balls and fairytales. Besides he is still kind of afraid that Kris will say no. "I should probably tell you that I don't normally make a habit of walking around in dresses," he says finally. It seems like a logical place to start.

"I figured. But you did look awfully comfortable in high heels."

"Well, I'm an actor," Adam says with a shrug. "I did dress up in drag more than a few times. I just like costumes. Besides, I look gorgeous as a woman."

"Yes, you do." Kris chuckles. "Not bad as a guy either," he says shyly, making Adam grin.

"I like you, Kris Allen," Adam states, thinking it should be said aloud. Kris has put himself out there on so many levels, he deserves something in return.

The look Kris gives him in response is breathtaking. "I like you, too," he says. "And I—"

Kris looks over Adam's head towards the bar and nods at someone. He sighs. "And I have a shift to finish, I'm afraid," he says, sadly.

Adam finds himself sighing back at him.

"I'm working until midnight," Kris says, taking out a notepad and a pen out of his pocket to scribble something on it. "This is my number." Adam looks down to see that he has written down his cell, home and work numbers. Kris isn't leaving things to chance anymore. "You should call me."

Adam's hand immediately goes to his phone; he makes himself let it go.

He moves to slide off the seat, so Kris can go back to work, but a hand on his arm stops him.

"Just—tell me you don't have a boyfriend," Kris says.

Adam grins wide. If he had a boyfriend, he'd be breaking up with him in a hurry for this. He shakes his head. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

Kris looks relieved. "Would you like to have one?"

Adam leans in for a small kiss, because workplace or not, this cuteness cannot be resisted.

"If you're the one offering," he says against Kris' lips, "then yes, I would."

The End

September 15th, 2009