A flush crested his cheekbones. “Back in the day, I could turn it on when I needed it. I don’t have the patience now.”
“I can relate. I do a fuckton of deep breathing at the library.” Changing the topic, I asked, “Tell me all about this job. Where is it?”
“I’ll be working at Miss Independence Pies.” He sat back with a sigh. “I think I’ll like the people, but it’s going to be brutal cleaning all day.”
“Right. I can imagine.”
“They told me to plan on sore muscles, dishpan hands, and stuff like that for the first week.”
“You should carry a first aid kit like I do. I keep everything I need with me at work.”
He smirked. “You and your fanny pack.”
“What can I say? It works. Maybe I could use a bit of a makeover.” I was thinking of changing everything, why not the way I dress? “Maybe I could try out a small backpack?”
“Whoa, slow down, Speed Racer. Pace yourself.” Tug bit his lip. “You’re cute when you nerd. How was Morro Bay?”
“Very nice.” I sipped my water. “Restful during the day but with some nightlife too. Live music in the bars. Big crowds and lots of drinking because of the holiday weekend.”
He leaned forward. “So, did you get lucky?”
“What?” My hand jerked, causing a minor spill.
“Nervous much?” He dabbed at the mess with his napkin. “Did you actually meet somebody?”
“I met a couple of people.” I glanced away. “What about you? Are you getting along with your housemates?”
He shrugged. “We stay out of each other’s way. I think it’s going to be good here.”
When Guac the waiter came back, I hadn’t really looked the menu over. I went with grilled salmon and wild rice. Tug ordered steak and fries.
“I’ll get those going right away.” Guac took our menus. “Definitely save room for dessert. The mousse au chocolate is absolutely spectacular.”
“Can’t wait.” Tug’s smile was the slightly phony one he used for marks. Even so, it was nice to see him try one out. He seemed a little down.
“I really hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I will.” Tug sighed. “It’s just a lot to think about and not all of it is pleasant.”
I found myself trying to tease a smile from Tug all through our meal. After, as we walked along the boardwalk together, I made a conscious effort to bring one to his lips by cracking stupid jokes or offering compliments. By pointing out things I found interesting or beautiful or contradictory until I was working harder than a standup comedian in a hostile venue.
I couldn’t relax and be myself until I realized I was acting like I was on a first date.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
This was not a date. Tug was not a date.
Tug was also—I told myself—not the reason I had turned Ari down. Except he was, and now I was faced with the reality of that choice.
I thought my affection for him was under control, that I’d picked up the phone because Tug needed me as a sounding board or a little crutch while he was in transition from Hope House to St. Nacho’s, and now I was faced with the fact that there was nothing under control about my feelings at all.
I wanted Tug. He drew me in with his looks and held me spellbound with his unconscious prickly sweetness. Along with his sobriety, he was finding a strength of purpose, and if I added that to all the other ways he touched my heart, I could easily be overwhelmed by him.
Letting him know any of that would ruin everything.
He seemed to know where he wanted to go. As I drifted beside him, our hands brushed occasionally—little zings of skin on skin contact that made me want to get a lot closer.
A brisk breeze blew his too long hair around his face. I worried he might be cold, and there I was without my jacket because I’d left it with another man.
“Luke, is something wrong?” He stopped and turned to me.
“What makes you ask?”
A smile played over his lips. “You’re unusually quiet.”
“I enjoy the sound of the surf.”
“Oh yeah. I love that.” He breathed deep and let it out slowly. “You can hear the waves in my bedroom when the windows are open.”
“Lucky.” Tug seemed to be heading to an old fishing pier. I got out my phone to take pictures of the town behind us. “You never said. What time’s your curfew?”
“Nine. I turn into a mouse or a pumpkin pie or something at nine oh one. I have an alarm set on my phone so I won’t fuck up.”
“Okay.”
“It feels weird, you know. Having the freedom to come and go without sober nannies.”
“Yeah?”
“That first day, I couldn’t make myself leave the house, even though I wanted fresh air so badly.”
“How come?” We’d reached the pier. Our feet made hollow thuds on the wooden planks.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I thought I’d go out and score.” He bit his lip. “Sometimes I feel like I have a flashing sign over my head that says Heroin Addict. I’m afraid that’s all people will see when they look at me.”
“I guess that’d be pretty weird if it was true.”
“I can spot a mark a mile away, you know?” He slanted a quick, guilty glance my way. “It’d be dumb to think the normals can’t see me coming.”
“Okay, I hear you.” At the end of the pier, I leaned my elbows on the rail and looked back at the town of St. Nacho’s. “But I wonder how honed most people’s instincts are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You lived pretty feral for a while, right? Your ability to read people was a literal survival mechanism for you.”
“Mmhmm.” He shivered, so I moved my body to block some of the wind coming off the water. I wasn’t a great windbreak, but I was bigger than Tug.
“So maybe people who never had to survive on the streets don’t see what you see. Maybe they don’t think anything but here’s a nice-looking young man.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think?”
“Most people ignore their instincts. We don’t have to avoid predators in our daily lives. We don’t believe we’re prey. I mean, your mileage may vary depending on where you grew up, how you lived, your level of economic success, etcetera. I grew up in Galt, and believe me, I’m not exactly street savvy.”
He snickered. “You grew up in a comic book store.”
“Yeah. Lately I’ve been thinking about how that might have affected me.”
“And your parents are Mr. and Mrs. Santa.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” I defended.
“You’re such a nice boy.” He patted my head affectionately. “You definitely couldn’t read a room full of addicts.”
“I can’t even read the one—”
“You’re stuck with?” His grin was impossible not to return.
“The one I know well enough to like.”
“Mm.” He turned so he stood with his back to the railing next to me. “Take a selfie?”
“Sure.” I took out my phone and snapped a couple pictures with the sunset as our backdrop. Impulsively, I wrapped my arm around him. Just as the shutter clicked, he kissed my cheek, which caught fire.