Honestly, it was a damn shame they weren’t actually dating, because the man had a lot of gratitude sex backlogged at this point.
The picnic was fun, and the food was pretty great. Rasul enjoyed watching the men interact with each other as much as he did getting to know them. He got to hear Jared and Nick’s announcement of how they’d finally settled on a surrogate and hoped to be expecting their first child by the end of the year. Jack, the hospital’s surgeon, and Owen, the anesthesiologist, had some kind of good-natured rivalry going on that seemed to extend to everything they could possibly compete over but was brought to a head in the food they brought to the potluck. Owen presented a killer potato salad with whole baby potatoes and seven-minute eggs, and Jack had some sort of savory yogurt dish with cucumber, radish, and toasted sesame. They nominated Rasul to be their judge, and he struggled to choose.
“They’re both amazing. I love the eggs and the mustard vinaigrette in Owen’s dish, but I think I have to give ultimate props to savory yogurt. I have a huge sweet tooth, but my Syrian grandmother would kiss both your cheeks for this, Jack.”
Owen grumbled about his loss, but he quickly recovered and started needling Jack over something else, which Jack clearly enjoyed. Jack’s husband, Simon, who had taken Rasul home the day he’d met Jacob, chatted Rasul up to find out how he was enjoying Copper Point.
As they filled their plates, Jacob let the rest of them know Rasul was looking for help personalizing his apartment, and as predicted, everyone became interested in helping him problem solve. After complaining at the abysmal state of guest faculty housing, they shared design tips and volunteered things from their own homes to spruce things up. Ram said he’d nudge the dean about getting the place repainted, and Christopher promised to bring over some industrial-strength cleaner to get rid of the kitchen smells. Simon said he’d wheedle a new couch out of his uncle, who owned a furniture store. Rasul had several more numbers in his flip phone now, though every time he entered one, he had to endure their incredulity that he didn’t have a more modern phone.
Fewer distractions, he kept telling them. It wasn’t a lie.
To his surprise, several men pulled Rasul aside to passive-aggressively warn him that he needed to treat Jacob well, because apparently he never dated. Interestingly, Gus and Matt, Jacob’s self-professed best friends, weren’t among that number. They sure looked at him with menacing gazes, though.
At nine Rasul was trying to follow some story Jared was telling about a man everyone seemed to dislike but couldn’t stop talking about, when Jacob tugged on his sleeve and announced it was time to go.
“I have to get up early. Unless you want to get a ride home with someone else?”
“No, I’m fine.” Rasul followed him away from the group after waving goodbye.
Too soon they were back at Rasul’s apartment. He thought about inviting Jacob up, then remembered why they’d left early. “Is it okay if I come over to write again tomorrow?”
“You can come over anytime. On Sunday I might set you up in the shop if you come, so I can clean.”
Rasul lingered with his hand on the door, trying to figure out how to say the things he wanted to say. I’d still like to date you for real buzzed at the back of his mouth the way it had since they’d started this charade. Thanks for speaking up about the group name was another top contender. I loved playing couple at a picnic with you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I loved it.
Instead, he sighed and gave Jacob what he hoped wasn’t a sad smile. “I had a great time.”
Jacob tried to give him his polite smile, but it frayed around the edges, like politeness was becoming difficult. “I’m glad.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you.”
Rasul got out of the car, grabbed the bag of empty dishes, and headed reluctantly into his crappy apartment.
THE FIRST month of fake dating was fairly easy for Jacob. They slid quickly into a routine, and being with him was pleasant. He looked forward to their weekly dates, which started to feel like a tour of Copper Point restaurants. Despite Les Clark’s continued dirty looks at chamber meetings, the restaurant owners were eager to have them, especially if Jacob called ahead to let them know they were coming. Apparently on Copper Point People, the infamous Facebook group, where Rasul and Jacob dined was a constant topic.
Rasul declined Jacob’s invitation to walk around with him at the Founder’s Day festival. Jacob was a bit relieved to simply go and enjoy it with his friends.
Jacob never heard anything further about Rasul’s ex and whether she was still a danger. A few times he’d thought about asking, but he’d always invented reasons not to. He wouldn’t let himself consider the possibility that perhaps he didn’t want to end their fake relationship.
He had enough problems without worrying about that, he told himself. Rebecca still nudged Jacob on the regular to officially declare he was running for president of the chamber of commerce, something he’d have to decide one way or another soon, as he had to put his name in by November 1. The vote wouldn’t be until May, but Clark had declared in 1980 that they should have a long period to get to know any potential candidates. In reality, it gave him and his friends more of a chance to beat them down.
One night when they were having dinner—at China Garden this time—he asked Rasul about it.
“Do I think you should run?” Rasul reached for the plate of beef and broccoli in front of him. “I mean, do you want to? That seems a more important question, or am I missing something?”
Jacob fiddled with his chopsticks. “It would be an advantage to a lot of us if I did, or if someone friendly to a broader set of businesses stood for election.”
“Do you want to, though?”
“I mean… yes? And also no. I want it to happen, I want someone progressive in the position, but I would prefer, to be honest, that it wasn’t me.”
“So let someone else do it. You don’t seem too excited about it.”
“People keep telling me I’d be a good candidate. That I’m dependable.”
Rasul snorted. “Well, you are dependable, but to me it sounds like they’re looking for a patsy.”
Jacob didn’t like how that sounded at all. “I think it’s more that they’re looking for a leader.”
“Well, fine if you want to be one. But I’m getting all the vibes like you’re not wanting this.”
“It’s less that and more that I don’t like how other people see me.”
“What—hot, articulate, delicious?”
Jacob nudged Rasul with his foot, but he couldn’t help a small smile. “No. Dependable, steady. Boring.”
“I don’t think you’re boring at all.”
No, Rasul really didn’t. He flirted with Jacob all the time, and Jacob knew he could have a real relationship with the man just for asking. He told himself that wouldn’t work, though. He told himself that every day.
It was becoming harder and harder to remember why he had to say no.
He tried to be content with their dates, with their conversations in his apartment when Rasul finished working for the day. Over tea in the evenings when Rasul didn’t have a class, they talked and talked. About how much Rasul liked his class, how intriguing he found his students, about how his writing was going. They talked about books too, what they’d read recently and books they’d read long ago. Rasul was rapidly making his way through Jacob’s personal inventory. He read voraciously, and quickly. Jacob had thought himself a pretty speedy reader, but Rasul put him to shame.