Oh, the endless lyrical possibilities.
In the end, though, lunch didn’t involve singing. Just a few friendly questions.
“I’m a Gates fan too,” Mel said before selecting a piece of the spicy tuna roll with her chopsticks and transferring it to her plate. “I saw your Lavinia costume on Twitter, and it was amazing. How long have you been interested in cosplay?”
Of all the juicy topics Mel could have asked about, she’d chosen . . . cosplay. Not Marcus. Not the dates. Not even the publicity surrounding Marcus and those dates, or the public-yet-intimate photos splashed all over the internet and featured on several low-rated cable entertainment shows.
Despite a morning spent completing first-day paperwork and watching HR-mandated videos, April already loved her new job.
“Only this past year.” Any sushi roll containing both tempura shrimp and avocado was clearly meant to be hers, so she snagged a piece. “That picture turned out well, and I’m proud of my design, but there are problematic bits. If I’d been posed any other way, you’d have seen evidence of staples and double-sided tape.”
She’d intended to share her interest in cosplay and accompanying Twitter identity on the Lavineas server last week, since a few people in their community might be able to offer much-needed costume construction tips. That would have meant acknowledging she was Marcus’s mysterious date, though, and after all the hubbub surrounding her fat-shaming post, she was lying low for a few days instead.
Not that most people hadn’t been kind and gracious about the topic, especially—and heartwrenchingly—BAWN. She was also locating fewer and fewer fucks to give for people who couldn’t give her any in return. But a few naysayers had caused some tense moments on the server, and she had no intention of hogging the bandwidth yet again so soon thereafter.
“Do you need to borrow a sewing machine?” Pablo glanced up from his sashimi. “I have one I can lend you. It’s not fancy, but it does the job.”
April swallowed her sushi and sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you, but I would have no idea how to use it. Better to buy, experiment on, and possibly break my own machine.”
“So you designed that amazing costume, but can’t sew?” Heidi looked thoughtful. “Mel, darling, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably not.” With her chopstick, Mel was poking at the roe atop her sushi. “I was compiling a mental list of species whose eggs we consume and wondering where and why the line gets drawn.”
Heidi blinked at her. “You’re right. That wasn’t what I was thinking.”
“I know.” Kei set his chopsticks neatly on his napkin. “This is about My Chemical Folkmance.”
“We’re still working on the band name,” Pablo noted. “I voted for some take on ‘She Blinded Me with Science,’ but Kei and Mel told me it implied harmful things about our profession.”
Her attention diverted from egg concerns, Mel regarded Heidi consideringly. “Oh. Yes. I see now. Yes, that might work, depending on what April would prefer. She just moved and started a new job, and we shouldn’t pressure her to commit to anything else.”
“Especially since she may have, uh, other personal priorities right now.” Kei broke open his fortune cookie and scanned the slip of paper inside. “Dammit, I don’t want to take on new adventures. I work full-time, have a family, and sing in a folk trio with an indeterminate name. Isn’t that enough?”
Heidi patted his arm. “You can grab my fortune instead. It’s about making wiser decisions, and I have no interest in that.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet you don’t.”
April was lost. “I’m sorry, Heidi, but I missed something. What were you thinking about? And what does it have to do with me?”
“She was thinking we could help one another, if you had the time and interest.” Mel smiled at April. “We keep saying we should have costumes for our performances. You know, outfits that would work together onstage and show we’re a folk group. But none of us can figure out what exactly that would look like. If you’d be willing to turn your design eye to those—”
“We could help you sew one of your costumes,” Pablo finished. “If that’s something that would interest you. If not, no worries.”
The molded plastic chair beneath her squeaked as April lurched forward, the movement jerky in her enthusiasm.
“Yes.” She beamed at her new coworkers. All of them, in turn.
“I would love that.”
This was what she’d been missing in her work. Openness and the ability to talk about her life outside the office. Relationships built on and because of that openness.
God, the freedom was intoxicating. She was practically giddy with it.
“We’ll let you get a bit more settled first, and then we can work out the details.” Mel waved a ring-bedecked hand. “If you change your mind in the meantime, not a problem.”
“You have a lot going on at the moment. Obviously.” Heidi’s nose ring glinted as she leaned back in her chair. “Look, it’s really none of our business, and feel free not to answer, but—”
“Marcus Caster-Rupp is the bane of my existence as a lesbian,” Mel interrupted. “If he didn’t exist, I would be all the way at the end of the Kinsey scale, but alas.”
Heidi shrugged. “I’m bi, so I embrace my status as a Castersexual.”
“What’s he like in person?” Mel asked. “Equally hot?”
While Kei rolled his eyes and stood to gather his trash, Pablo rested his elbows on the table. “Did he say anything about his skin care routine?”
“Please tell us he’s actually a decent guy. He seems that way in all his interviews, but . . .” Heidi scrunched up her face in an anticipatory wince. “You just don’t know.”
What could April say? “Ummm, okay.” Easy stuff first. “I don’t know anything about his skin care routine. I’m sorry, Pablo. You might want to check online. There might be articles about it.”
He shook his head, then began consolidating his own trash. “I probably couldn’t afford the products he uses anyway, but I was curious. My girlfriend says his face has ‘the perfect amount of weathering.’ Whatever that means.”
April knew what it meant.
Those crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the faint lines across his forehead only enhanced his appeal. They were the gilt on his already gorgeous lily.
Now on to shakier ground.
“He’s just as handsome in person,” she told Mel. “Maybe more so.”
Because in person, he was real. A shirt wrinkled by her fist or a loose shoelace only made him seem warmer and more solid and . . . touchable.
Face-to-face, he was still blindingly beautiful, yes, but not perfect. Not a demigod. Just a man. And since he was a real person to her now, she didn’t want to talk about his sexual appeal to strangers. Like her explicit fics, the topic suddenly seemed like a violation.
His physical beauty she would gladly discuss. His fuckability? No. Not anymore.
“Whew.” Mel made a show of fanning herself. “I’m not certain that’s physically possible, but I trust your judgment. You’re the only one who’s been up close and personal with him, after all.”