David.
2
David
The little cafe bustled with students and chatter while I consulted my watch for the fifth time, 8:59 am. Seb wasn’t technically late yet, but the idea that he might be was enough to make me drum my fingers on the table. Call me old-school, but I made a point to always be punctual. I expected the same of the people around me.
The door to the university café flew open, and I spotted Seb’s golden hair, all damp and mussed like he’d rushed here straight from the shower.
The idea of him in the shower sent an uncomfortable twinge shooting through me, which I ignored as he wound his way through the crowded tables to the one I’d claimed in the back corner, where the acoustics made it easier to talk. Several pairs of female eyes tracked his progress wistfully, I noted with amusement. He dropped his backpack onto the floor, set his ever-ready Thermos of coffee on the table, and raked one hand through his already tousled hair with a sheepish grin when I glanced pointedly at my phone.
“I know, I know, I was cutting it close this time. I did make it on the dot though, so you can quit frowning at me from over your glasses.”
“Impudent pup,” I said.
“Fuddy-duddy.” Seb rolled his eyes at me and settled into his seat, eagerly grabbing for the full cup of coffee that awaited him. He inhaled the steam and sighed. “Beautiful caffeine, please fill me with your restorative powers.”
I nodded at the Thermos. “Has the well run dry already?”
“Yup. New edition of the magazine came out this morning, so late night for me.” He took a quick sip of coffee while jiggling his leg under the table, almost splashing the hot liquid over the side. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d already had a little too much caffeine today.
I sniffed and sipped at my own beverage, an organic green tea blend. “You really should consider switching to tea at some point. I know—next time we meet, we’ll go to TeaMuse. If they can’t make a convert of you, I’m afraid you’re a hopeless case.”
He waved me a cheeky salute with his cup while his leg continued its restless motion. “Whatever you say. You know I’ll try anything once. Or even twice.”
His quip made one of those weird tingles race across my arms. I brushed at my sleeves and scowled. Maybe I was coming down with a virus or something. I’d better switch to my elderberry tea later today, to ward off any germs.
“How are the edits on my latest book coming along?”
Seth’s face lit up. “Good—excellent, really. This one took me on a great ride. I think it’s even better than the last one.”
I sat up a little straighter. I was a tenured professor of ancient civilizations by day, a writer of fiction thriller novels by night. One of the reasons Seb and I had kindled such a good friendship over the past three years was because of our shared love of books. When he wasn’t working on his PhD in anthropology, he worked on an online magazine and took freelance editing jobs on the side. We’d started off with a great working relationship that had grown into friendship over time—despite our twenty-year age gap.
I asked about any new industry gossip, and watched his animated hand gestures while I sipped my tea. As he dived into a story about an author who had decided to try to game Goodreads reviews by hiring a bunch of people to write lavishly good ones and upvote them, only to be discovered and publicly slayed on Twitter, I remembered when I’d first met him. He’d been even younger then, only twenty-four to my forty-three. At the time, I’d held serious reservations over what kind of justice such a young, athletic-looking man-child would be able to do for my work. Could a young scruffy pup like him possess the world experience necessary to be a superb editor?
When I’d voiced my concern, he’d turned my words back on me. I don’t know, he’d shot right back, does a stuffy old fuddy-duddy like you have the creativity necessary to write a superb thriller?
His retort had amused me so much that I’d taken a gamble on him, which had paid off.
After that rocky start, our friendship had blossomed.
My forehead creased as I watched Seb twirl his coffee cup in the matching saucer and nibble on the skin by his thumbnail. In fact, we knew each other well enough for me to sense that something was amiss. Seb could get nervous sometimes, but he was never jittery around me.
I fixed him with a stern frown. “Quit eating your own flesh, and tell me what’s wrong. Is it my book, after all? I’d rather you were just upfront with me than bite off your thumb in misplaced angst.”
He glanced down at his fingers as if they were alien entities. Like he had no idea of what they’d been doing.
Oh, no. This was worse than I thought.
I straightened my tie and inhaled the fragrant, grassy aroma of my tea to steel myself. Whatever’s wrong, there’d be a way to fix it. Seb would make sure of that.
“Go ahead, then. Let’s not beat around the bush.”
Seb’s eyebrows flew up and a strangled sound emerged from deep in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttered a word that sounded a lot like fuck, before opening them again and lifting his chin.
“All right, but remember—you asked. David…”
He paused, so I urged him on with an inviting smile. Poor Seb, so worried about my fragile writer’s ego. I had to make this easy for him. “Yes?”
He stared me right in the eye. “I want more out of our relationship.”
“It’s okay, I know you can—-what?” Had he said…? But no, he couldn’t possibly mean…? In my confusion, I swallowed a big gulp of tea, which went down the wrong way. I coughed until my eyes watered. Once I could breathe again without tea saturating my lungs, I cleared my throat and started over. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m quite understanding what you mean. You’re…unsatisfied with our working relationship? Have I done something to offend you somehow?”
The second my mind settled on that explanation for his words, I calmed down. Our business relationship. That had to be what he meant. But for the life of me, I racked my brain and came up empty. Were my emails too terse? Or maybe, the chastising him about almost being late when he’d walked in? Maybe with all his work and school stress, that was just too much for him.
I immediately dismissed the notion as ludicrous. This was Seb. Seb didn’t care about me giving him the business. Not when he gave it back to me in spades.
Seb groaned and slid low in his chair. “Oh, god, I’m totally screwing this up. No, our working relationship is great! I meant, I want more out of our regular relationship.”
I shook my head helplessly. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’ve lost me again.”
“Kill me now,” is what I think he murmured, before he grabbed the edges of his chair and looked me in the eye again. “I mean, I’m interested in you as more than just a friend. I have been for some time. And I want to know if you are, too.”
Oh. Oh.
Dazed, I couldn’t move at first, then I took off my glasses and cleaned them with the cloth I kept in my pocket while thoughts paraded through my foggy brain. For one of the very few times in my life that I could remember, words failed me. Seb Owens was interested in romantic relationship? Absurd. I was a middle-aged professor and Seb was, well, Seb. A whip-smart, energetic, twenty-something grad student at the college where I taught. Yes, Seb was exceedingly attractive, in that breezy hipster way of millennials. All the more reason for me to never consider him as something more than a friend. Surely he had plenty of willing applicants to choose from in the dating pool—other man-pups closer to him in age.