Red Hot

by Sean Ashcroft

  “Okay, so, now that you know what you don’t want, we can adjust your profile data to exclude them. So no one working in emergency services.” Andy explained as he made the changes.

  “Thank you,” Red said. “But I could do all of this myself.”

  Andy looked up at him. “And rob me of the chance to get to do this in real life?”

  Unless… unless Red didn’t want his help? Unless he blamed him for the bad date and was secretly mad…

  “Uh, I mean. If you want to, of course you can. I’m sorry you had a bad date. It was my fault, I’m the one who set it up. I hope you believe I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “I know,” Red said softly. “I just don’t wanna put you to any trouble. This isn’t your responsibility.”

  “You’re my friend,” Andy responded. He didn’t have a whole lot of friends, but he definitely counted Red among them. This was the kind of thing people did for their friends, wasn’t it?

  “Okay.” Shifting in his chair, Red inched over to look at the laptop screen properly. “But I can’t just leave it up to you. It’s not fair to expect you to magically know what I like. So. Tell me about your app.”

  Andy hesitated. He didn’t often get the opportunity to explain to anyone how the app actually worked. Would it bore Red? He didn’t want to come off as a complete and total nerd.

  “Well…”

  Red had asked. The least Andy could do was assume that he knew what he wanted. Failing to do that was how they’d gotten to where they were now in the first place.

  “Okay, so the app works by taking some of your basic personal details—location, occupation, stated interests—and then it makes a ton of carefully calculated assumptions based on what people who share those attributes are like. It pulls in a load of data for that. Then it matches you against other profiles using an algorithm that takes into account who, historically, those kinds of people have ended up with. Obviously, the bulk of historical marriage data is for straight couples and we don’t have long-term data for gay couples yet, so I’ve added some of my own modifiers. Make sense so far?”

  “A magic formula tells you who your soulmate is. Got it.” Red grinned. He was clearly teasing Andy, which was a nice change from the blank stares he usually got when he explained programming things to them.

  “It’s more math than magic, but I will absolutely accept being called a wizard,” Andy said. “Anyone you get an eighty percent or higher match with is a good bet. Obviously, it can’t account for outliers, but most people aren’t outliers. For most people, this is a good system. And I’m still adjusting it to make it better. One of the things I noticed when you were signing up was that choosing interests could use work, for example, and in turn that would make matching more accurate.”

  “So I am useful?” Red asked.

  “You’ve been very useful so far. I should probably be paying you.”

  Red shrugged. “You made pancakes yesterday. I’ll consider that payment.”

  Andy really liked that Red appreciated his cooking. Jake had spent a lot of time complaining that Andy was conspiring to make him fat, which always made Andy unsure whether he should offer him food or not. Red would practically take Andy’s hand off for a cupcake, which was much better.

  “All right, so, now that I’ve excluded people who work in emergency services, I think you should pick someone this time.” He slid the laptop over to Red with his matches lined up in a grid so only their main photo and profile title showed.

  “Oh, wow. That’s so many people.” Red shuffled his chair closer to the kitchen table, peering at the screen.

  Andy watched him scroll through all his options once, then go back up to the top and start again.

  It was a lot of people. Way more than Andy had ever matched with.

  That made sense. Most people would rather be with someone like Red than someone like him.

  Plus, he hadn’t run his matches since the last major update and influx of new users.

  “That guy,” Red said, pointing at the screen. Andy leaned over and clicked to bring up his profile.

  Everything about the guy immediately rubbed him the wrong way, from his dumbass pink-tinted glasses to his roll-neck sweater.

  Oh, and he was a spoken-word artist.

  Andy could almost feel the smugness rolling off the guy.

  This wasn’t about Andy’s taste, though. This was about Red’s.

  “Okay,” he said. “Just heart the profile and you’ll be able to communicate with him as long as he hearts you back. You’ll get a notification on your phone.”

  “Awesome.” Red pulled out his phone eagerly the moment he clicked, as though the guy would already have responded.

  “Hey, he already responded!” Red said almost exactly as Andy had finished thinking that there was no way he would have.

  Of course, if someone like Red had indicated an interest in him, he would have responded as fast as he could, too. Red was too good an offer to pass up.

  “Then I’ll leave you to your new boyfriend,” Andy said, gathering his laptop as he stood. He didn’t want to be in Red’s way.

  “Thanks, man,” Red replied without looking up from his phone. He was already smiling down at it. He seemed happy.

  That was all Andy wanted. If Red found happiness with someone Andy wouldn’t have looked at twice, that was fine.

  He settled down on the couch, opening his laptop as curiosity got the better of him. He hadn’t seen his own profile among Red’s matches, so he knew he came in at less than eighty percent. But he wanted to know exactly how well he matched Red.

  First of all because he’d been thinking he could take the same principle and apply it to roommates. Secondly because, well, that crush was still there.

  With excitement welling up in his stomach, Andy ran his own profile ID against Red’s and waited for the result to load.

  His stomach dropped the moment the screen refreshed.

  Zero percent.

  Zero.

  No match at all. Completely incompatible.

  He closed the laptop again, setting it down beside him. Hopefully, if Red noticed what he was doing, he’d just think it was a work thing.

  Well, if nothing else, that proved his crush on Red was all about the fact that he’d rescued him. That was all there was to it, and it would fade after a while.

  Still, it was a little disappointing to know that he had no chance at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Though he knew it was too early by a long way, Red couldn’t help hoping that Andy would be in bed by the time he got home. That way, maybe he wouldn’t have to tell him what had happened on his date.

  Of course, Andy was sitting on the couch watching cartoons when Red came in. Because it was nine o’clock, and Andy was rarely in bed before two in the morning.

  “You’re home early,” Andy said straight away, which only made everything seem worse. Red wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the embarrassment of his night, and now Andy would want to know why his second date in a row had failed.

  “Ah, yeah,” Red said, shifting uncomfortably and shoving his hands into his pockets. Maybe it was better to get it over and done with, tell Andy what had happened and then hide in his room.

  “The thing is,” he said, “we went to a poetry reading, right? I mean he invited me to it and I thought hey, cool, something I’ve never done before, I’ll go. So anyway, it turns out poetry readings are awful. But the worst part was when I tried to make a joke.”

  Andy raised an eyebrow. “And it went over his head, or…?”

  Red laughed nervously. That would have been way better. “No, well, it was about the girl on stage. He’d been making jokes about everyone else, so I figured, y’know, that was a reasonable thing to do and that way he’d know I was listening and did understand, ‘cause I kinda got the impression he thought I was an idiot. Anyway. The girl on stage was his sister.”

  Andy’s mouth fell open. For a few moments, he was silent, and then he bu
rst into laughter.

  It wasn’t exactly the reaction Red had been expecting, but it also wasn’t cruel laughter. At least someone found him funny.

  “Oh man, I wish I’d been there to see that.” He scooted over on the couch, a clear invitation for Red to sit down. There’d been plenty of room for that before, but Red hadn’t been sure what to do with himself.

  When Andy paused his cartoons, Red knew he really did want him to sit.

  If for no other reason than that Andy’s company made him feel better, Red walked around the couch and sat down.

  “Think about this for a second, right? Firstly, the guy was making you feel like an idiot. Secondly, what adult brings a date to a poetry reading their sister is at and then gets offended by a joke? Especially one that wasn’t cruel, and I know it wasn’t cruel because it was you telling it. I’d say you saved yourself a ton of wasted time by finding out that he was actually kind of an ass.”

  Red considered that. It was true that the guy had been a little off, and he got the feeling Andy had known he would be. There were a whole lot of nuances he was missing out on, he suspected, that Andy knew from experience.

  Experience Red just didn’t have. So far, he was starting to think his best option was becoming a monk instead.

  At least Andy was being patient with him.

  He was starting to think that Evan had been right, that he should just date Andy instead.

  Of course, that assumed Andy was interested, and so far Red hadn’t seen any sign of that. The guy had been trying to set him up on dates with other people. Someone who was interested in him wouldn’t do that.

  “You’re probably right. I’m still probably destined to be alone forever, though,” Red said. “I guess I’m doing something weird or I’m just not fun to be around.” He hated to sound self-loathing, but right now, he wasn’t feeling great about his ability to interact with other people.

  “What you need is a practice date. To get you used to going on them and just having a good time.”

  “I thought these were practice dates?”

  “Well, kind of. I guess I mean something more like a training date. One with someone who can tell you if you’re doing anything weird or off-putting.”

  “Yeah?” Red raised an eyebrow. “Like who?”

  “Me?” Andy offered, his voice smaller than it had been. Apparently, Red was supposed to have figured that out in the first place.

  Which made sense, because who the hell else would Andy have been talking about?

  He decided to blame his momentary lapse on the fact that he was tired. As well as the fact that he’d just been reminding himself that Andy wasn’t interested and wouldn’t want to date him.

  This didn’t mean he was interested, obviously. He was still trying to help Red date someone else.

  Even if he had been, it was probably a bad idea to date your roommate.

  “Oh, uh.” Red wet his lips. Andy had all the experience he lacked. It would work as a confidence boost, which might be exactly what he needed. “Yeah, if you’re okay with that? I think it’d help and I could use a break from trying to impress strangers.”

  Andy’s whole face lit up. “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said. “And I promise to be gentle about it. I bet everything you’re doing is fine and you’ve just had a little bad luck, but this will help you confirm it.”

  “You’re very nice to me,” Red said. He’d gotten the impression that Andy didn’t like to be thought of as nice, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

  Shifting in place, Andy blushed and looked down at his lap. “Like I said, I like you. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you, here. Besides, I owe you one for saving my ass.”

  “It’s an ass worth saving.” Red grinned. Andy chuckled, apparently not fazed by the comment. He probably thought it was a joke.

  It kind of was, but it also kind of wasn’t. Andy had a cute butt. When he bothered to put on actual clothes instead of living in assorted pairs of pajama pants and t-shirts, it looked great in a pair of jeans.

  Not that Red was looking. He just happened to have noticed.

  “So, uh, tomorrow night? After you’ve had the chance to nap after your shift. I don’t want you to be exhausted, but I also don’t want you to have time to worry about it.”

  Red appreciated that. He’d gotten himself all worked up waiting for the first two dates, and that hadn’t helped at all. Obviously, he wasn’t used to being nervous around Andy, but he could imagine getting that way if he let himself dwell on it.

  “Sure, tomorrow night sounds great.”

  Andy smiled at him and stood up. “Do you want a chocolate brownie?” he asked.

  He’d baked every few days since he moved in, accumulating a collection of tools and pans as he went. Red had never owned anything more complex than a pair of tongs and a spatula.

  It worried him, because Andy had said he baked when he was stressed, but Red was starting to get the idea that he was always stressed. That stressed was just Andy’s default state.

  Andy seemed to be coping, so he hadn’t said anything. If he ever seemed not to be coping, Red would bring it up. Sometimes trauma took a little while to settle in, and the guy had lost his home.

  “I’m never gonna say no to a chocolate brownie.” Red grinned. He’d take any cheering up that was on offer, since he was still feeling a little down about his date.

  Andy was probably right—he’d dodged a bullet—but still. It would have been nice to feel as though he was getting it right.

  This practice date would fix that. Red trusted Andy to tell him whether he was fun to go on a date with or not.

  Red really, really hoped he was fun to go on a date with.

  Chapter Nine

  When he’d done it, volunteering to take Red on a practice date had seemed like a great idea. Now, with only a few hours to plan, Andy was beginning to see that he hadn’t thought this through.

  He hadn’t been on a date with someone he didn’t know in a couple of years. He’d been completely out of the having relationships game for over a year now, and he and Jake had passed the dating phase long before they broke up.

  Of course, he did know Red. That almost made it worse. The crush Andy had on him hadn’t gone away, no matter how hard he’d tried to ignore it. Finding out that they had no future together, that his own algorithm said they couldn’t be happy, hadn’t done anything to stop him getting butterflies when Red walked into a room.

  Now he was stuck trying to plan a casual date with a guy he wasn’t supposed to like, so he could help him date someone else.

  It wasn’t his best plan ever.

  Especially because he couldn’t figure out what kind of date to take Red on.

  He’d discarded the idea of doing anything formal early on. Red wasn’t a formal date kind of guy, and neither was Andy. He no longer owned clothes that would get him into the kind of restaurant that had tablecloths, and he was seriously considering keeping it that way.

  He didn’t want to hark back to either of the dates Red had already been on—so bars and coffee shops were out for now. He didn’t want to do anything weird like taking him to laser tag, because not only would it be trying too hard, it wouldn’t help.

  This was supposed to be about helping Red. Not about fulfilling the persistent fantasy that Red might actually want to be seen in public with someone like Andy.

  Not that Andy was admitting to himself that he was fantasizing about dating Red. He’d never do that. He was smarter than that, and he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.

  Besides, if he got into a relationship with his roommate and it went wrong, he’d have to find somewhere else to live. Again.

  Why was a simple, casual date so hard to plan? Why couldn’t they just have beer and pizza on the couch like regular twenty-somethings and maybe make out during one of the boring bits of the movie they were watching?

  Andy missed that. He missed having someone he could
just sit with, maybe snuggle up to.

  Not quite enough to go crawling back to his ex, but enough that it made his heart hurt to think about doing it.

  Pizza did sound like a good idea, though. They could go out to a pizza place. That would be casual and not weird, the kind of thing roommates did with each other anyway.

  He was just buying Red dinner. That was totally normal, platonic behavior. It wasn’t inevitable that this would get weird.

  Andy turned his attention to looking up local pizza places, and then realized Red had lived in this neighborhood much longer. He’d know where to go.

  Maybe it’d be better if Red got to choose where they went. Andy could give him a few parameters, and leave the actual venue up to him. That way, he’d pick somewhere that was suitable, and somewhere he’d be comfortable.

  Deciding this was a good plan, Andy got up, stretched, and headed for the bathroom to take a shower before Red got home. He’d be tired after his shift, but it finished at four. That gave them plenty of time to relax and go out at their leisure without waiting until they were starving.

  Andy was a genius, and he was going to make this the perfect low-key date if it killed him.

  Chapter Ten

  Red had gotten home from his shift exhausted and cranky. Normally, he would have solved that by going straight to bed—he hadn’t had anything resembling a regular sleep pattern in years—but he’d agreed to go out with Andy tonight.

  As much as he knew that Andy would understand if he said he didn’t want to go, Red also didn’t want to disappoint him. Andy was trying to help, and he was being really sweet about it, in his own way.

  Besides, he’d figured it’d be nice to go on one date that didn’t feel like a disaster. Even if it was with someone who wasn’t interested.

  Which was why he was now sitting in a slightly dark, mostly-empty pizza place, looking across the table at his roommate. Or, no, it was really time to give Andy a mental upgrade to friend.