JACOB WASN’T precisely sure what he’d expected after Rasul nearly kissed him behind the cash register, but it certainly wasn’t that he’d disappear for nearly two weeks.
He didn’t disappear precisely. He still came by, though not as often, and when he did, he went straight to Jacob’s kitchen, put on headphones, and entered a zone not even a fresh cup of tea beside him could jolt him from. On the days he didn’t show, he uncharacteristically didn’t text or call to apologize for not coming.
It worried Jacob. It also made him distracted, which meant when the time came to finally decide whether he was going put his name in for chamber president, he said yes out of some weird panic response. He couldn’t even be bothered by Les Clark’s outraged fury and the silent promise in his eyes that he would take Jacob down at all costs. He was too busy wondering what was going on with Rasul.
His restlessness must have showed, because one day Jodie came up to him while they were working and asked, “Is something going on? Did something happen?”
Caught off guard at being addressed so bluntly by the young girl who rarely remembered to greet him or tell him she was leaving, Jacob paused stacking the new releases. “Ah, I’m fine, thank you. Why do you ask?”
She fidgeted. “No reason. Just… wondering.”
Obviously something was going on, but teen girls had always been a mystery to Jacob, on every level. He tried to brush away the awkwardness with a breezy smile. “Everything good with you? How are classes?”
She shrugged. “Fine. Grandpa is making me take precalculus and I don’t want to, but other than that I’m okay.”
Since Jodie’s grandfather was Les Clark, he thought it might be best if he didn’t make any judgments there and sent her back to work.
He didn’t stop worrying about what Rasul’s silence meant, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, Jacob sent Rasul an email. It felt like a strange thing to do, but it was cruel to ask him to respond on that keypad.
I noticed you haven’t been by as much. Is everything all right?
He resisted the urge to add, Did I do anything to upset you?
Jacob had deliberately done this during the time he knew Rasul kept aside for wrestling with his inbox, so he received a reply fairly quickly.
All good. Was thinking about some things, then started writing and hit a real groove all the way to the midpoint. Kind of superstitious about the midpoint. Don’t want to break it. Can we make a date for next week? I should be through the worst of it by then. I mean a real date, not one for show.
Oh. Jacob touched his lips as he read the email again. Well, that was a decent explanation. And a bit exciting. He was doing that well?
An actual date. He drew in a breath, let it out, and replied.
I’m glad to hear the story is coming along. Can I bring you over some food? Maybe some little meals you can heat up easily? I won’t stay and bother you. I just worry about you not eating. Also, yes, I’d love a date. Saturday?
Another reply.
Food would be welcomed, but isn’t required. I don’t want to put you out. I just wish this place had DoorDash. Saturday sounds perfect.
Jacob had meant to leave it at that, but couldn’t resist one more exchange.
I’m surprised you’re writing in your apartment. Didn’t you say you hated it there?
This reply took slightly longer. It was so old-school, sitting there waiting for an email reply. He should have suggested they log in to desktop chat.
This probably sounds weird, but being in a different space is giving me what I need. I don’t have much to do there and don’t particularly like it, so I focus on getting the words out. Also, I made a few modifications. I miss the bookshop, though.
Jacob did not tell him the bookshop, and its owner, missed him too.
He loved the idea of being meal delivery for Rasul. He wasn’t sure what this DoorDash thing was, so he looked it up. It certainly did sound handy, and also something that would never come somewhere as small as Copper Point. He could be a personal DoorDash, however, which worked out because despite how much he loved the idea of bringing food to Rasul, he still hated cooking more than the bare minimum.
So he made some trips around town, worked his charm and set up his plans, then did a swing through the grocery store before heading over to Rasul’s place. He caught him just after he finished his office hours.
“Hey.” Rasul’s smile was soft and inviting as he leaned on the doorframe. Then he stepped back as he saw the bags in Jacob’s hands. “Wow. Come on in.”
“I brought you a few things because I assume your fridge is bare, as are your cupboards.” After toeing out of his shoes and draping his jacket over a chair, Jacob carried the bags to the counter. “When you get writing, I’ve noticed you forget other things, or at least resent doing them.”
“Guilty.” Rasul poked into the bags. “Ooh, Cheetos.”
“I have another something for you.” Jacob withdrew a small collection of cardstock from one of the bags and presented it to Rasul, who read it with a slight frown.
“Rasul Youssef’s Personal Order and Delivery Service?”
“Yes.” Jacob pointed to a card. “If a restaurant is on there, it means I set up an account with them and they’re in touch with my network of people willing—and safe—to make a delivery. You can square up with the businesses later, and I’m paying the delivery people. It’s not an app on your phone, but it is one phone call away to delivery.”
Rasul’s mouth had fallen open as he flipped through the cards, each one for a different restaurant. “This is amazing. These are all the best restaurants in town.” He gasped and looked up at Jacob. “This is the secret Taiwanese menu at China Garden!”
“I know how much you liked it when QUAG met there.”
“This is so great. Thank you.”
He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Jacob’s cheek.
Jacob’s whole body tingled, and he couldn’t help touching the space where Rasul’s lips had been. “I don’t want to keep you, because I know you need to get back to work. But between what I brought and the restaurants on call, you should be set for a week at least.”
Rasul took a step closer. “I intend to see you sooner than that, you know.”
Jacob blushed. He tried not to withdraw or be ridiculously demure, but he felt flustered. He stepped farther into the apartment instead. “This isn’t half as bad as you make it out to be.”
Rasul huffed. “The kitchen is so damn dark. No natural light whatsoever. Plus it’s too quiet.”
Jacob drifted to the window, peered outside to the small, badly maintained courtyard below. “Where do you write when you work here?”
“My bedroom mostly. That room I don’t mind so much.” He grabbed Jacob’s hand and tugged him through the living room. “Here, I’ll show you.”
Jacob’s pulse fluttered—it didn’t matter how he chided himself for being ridiculous, it still happened. He gasped when they went through the door. “Oh—wow, this is amazing!”