Page 18 of That Defining Moment

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Hamish’s mate Pete had booked a Thai place in Richmond for Friday night as Lysander’s ‘formal’ introduction to his friends. Hamish had been talking about the dinner all week, clueing Lysander in on Pete, Yumi and Dev, the crew he’d been working with since his first commission for SBS.

“You’ll love them,” Hamish said, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror and adjusting his collar. “Pete’s been dying to meet you. I may have talked about you a bit.”

“Yeah?” Lysander asked, pleased.

Cassian appeared from his bedroom wearing one of Hamish’s button-downs, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair combed flat in a way that made him look like a Victorian orphan auditioning for a Dickens adaptation. He stood very still in the hallway, watching Hamish fuss with his collar, and said nothing.

The trouble started at the car.

Hamish drove a ten-year-old Subaru, and Lysander had his hand on the passenger door before Cassian made his move. It was beautifully executed. Cassian materialised at Hamish’s elbow as though transported there by the Universe itself, his chin dropped, one hand coming to rest on Hamish’s forearm.

“Alpha.” His voice had gone lispy and thin, rising barely above a whisper. “I don’t like cars. You know that. They make me feel all wobbly and sick.” His fingers tightened on Hamish’s sleeve. “I feel safer next to you.”

Hamish looked at Lysander. Lysander looked back at him with an expression that communicated, very precisely, that whatever decision Hamish made in the next three seconds would be remembered and raised at a strategically devastating moment in the future.

“Cass, maybe you could sit in the back just for tonight. So you start getting used to it?”

Cassian’s lower lip trembled, and it didn’t take very long for Hamish to completely cave and open the passenger door for him.

Lysander got into the back seat without a word, pulled the door shut, and stared at the headrest in front of him. Cassian settled into the front with a contented sigh, drawing his bare feet up onto the seat and curling sideways so that his shoulder rested against Hamish’s arm. As Hamish reversed out of the driveway, Cassian turned his head just enough to catch Lysander’s eye through the gap between the seats.

The look lasted less than a second. It was entirely deliberate, and it said: selected.

Lysander smiled back at him. It was not a nice smile.

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The restaurant was loud and warm, crammed with Friday-night tables and the fragrant sizzling of a wok station near the kitchen pass. Pete turned out to be a broad, sunburnt sound engineer with a belly laugh that drew stares, and Yumi was a colourist who’d worked on three of Hamish’s films. She greeted Lysander with a firm handshake and a frank assessment of his bone structure that he rather enjoyed. Dev was quieter, an alpha researcher with kind eyes, who instantly rocketed up in Lysander’s esteem with his careful greeting of Cassian.

Hamish pulled out a chair for Lysander next to his own. Then Cassian slid into the chair on Hamish’s other side, leaned against the alpha’s arm, and went completely silent.

Lysander settled into the existing shape of this core group. Pete told a story about a boom mic falling into a river during a shoot in Kakadu that had the whole table crying with laughter, and Yumi showed Lysander photos of the colour grade she’d done on Hamish’s first documentary, which made Hamish cover his face with both hands and groan about how green the footage looked. Dev asked Lysander what it was like to live in London with quiet, genuine interest, and Lysander found himself talking about Barking, the council flat he’d grown up in, and his dad’s cooking. He didn’t usually offer those details to strangers, but Hamish’s friends all shared his talent for active listening and lively banter.

Cassian didn’t speak. He sat tucked against Hamish’s side with his hands in his lap and his plate barely touched, his eyes tracking the conversation like a spectator at a tennis match. Every time someone addressed a question towards Hamish’s end of the table, Cassian drew closer to him. Hamish’s hand drifted to Cassian’s back at one point, an absent, steadying touch, and Cassian’s eyes fluttered closed for a second before he caught himself.

Halfway through the main course, Hamish was recounting the time a wallaby had wandered into frame during a piece-to-camera he was shooting in the Yarra Valley, and he’d kept talking for a full thirty seconds before his cameraman had broken down laughing.

“In my defence,” Hamish said, “the wallaby was being very polite. It was just standing there, blinking at the camera. It was a better on-screen talent than most of my interview subjects, honestly.”

“You idiot,” Lysander said fondly.

Hamish’s smile made his eyes crinkle behind his glasses. He reached across the table, hooked his index finger around Lysander’s, and squeezed.

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The cottage was quiet when they got home. Hamish disappeared down the hall to the bathroom, and Lysander heard the rattle of the pipes as the shower started up.

Cassian was standing in the kitchen doorway.

He had his arms folded across his chest and his chin tilted at the angle that Lysander had come to recognise as the prelude to an unsolicited opinion. The pliant, watery-eyed creature from the car and the silent, clinging presence from the restaurant had both been sent off, now that there wasn’t an alpha to witness it.

“Lysander.” Cassian’s voice was stripped of the breathy softness it put on for Hamish. “I want to tell you something, because I like you, and I want you to have your alpha like how your father and your brother have theirs.”

Lysander braced himself for what was about to come.

“Alphas like it when we’re small and sweet.” Cassian unfolded his arms and placed both hands on the kitchen island, his pale eyes steady on Lysander’s. “That’s why Hamish takes care of me. That’s why he picked the raisins out of my muesli and gave me the front seat and put his hand on my back at dinner. Because I make myself easy to protect.” He paused, letting that settle. “You called him an idiot tonight. In front of his friends.”