Chasing the Story

by Shira Anthony

  Brand knew better than to push Zach further. The key to understanding Zach was inextricably intertwined with the real answer to the question, but if he wanted a relationship with Zach, he’d need to be patient.

  Zach yawned and for the first time, Brand noticed they were the only ones left in the restaurant and the bartender was cleaning up. Brand glanced at his watch. Midnight. “We should probably get going.”

  “Yeah.” Zach steadied himself on Brand’s shoulder and stood. Brand’s heart beat a little faster with the warmth of Zach’s hand. The flush on Zach’s cheeks made Brand imagine what it might be like to kiss Zach and run his thumbs over the soft skin above his beard.

  Brand stood and the room spun a bit. “Can I get you a ride?”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  Brand paid the check over Zach’s vocal protests, and they wobbled out of the restaurant a few minutes later. “You sure you’re okay to get home?” he asked.

  “It’s just three blocks away.” Zach pointed in the general direction of the Cape Fear River.

  “Really? I live down that way too.”

  Zach shrugged and leaned on Brand’s arm. “Sorry,” Zach mumbled. “Guess I can’t hold my liquor the way I used to.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” He liked having Zach close, and the pink flush on his pale cheeks was cute.

  “’Kay.”

  “Zach?” Brand said after a few minutes.

  “Hmm?”

  “Why’d you leave New York?” he asked.

  “Miserable place.” Zach was back to his grumpy self. The echo of Zach from twelve years before telling Brand’s school assembly that he loved Manhattan and loved his job was jarringly dissonant.

  “I bet it can be.”

  “Life’s better here. Water’s nicer. People too.” Zach stumbled on the uneven sidewalk, and Brand caught him before he fell. “Thanks.” Zach held on to Brand for a long moment, then released his purchase on Brand’s arms.

  Brand had to think about what they’d been talking about before—touching Zach made him lose his focus. “Wilmington’s a nice place to live,” he said at last. He liked the city enough that he’d bought the waterfront condo without hesitation.

  They walked in silence for another block, finally reaching the riverfront a minute later. “This way.” Zach pointed to the left. He must have noticed Brand’s look of surprise, because he added, “What?”

  “My building’s this way too.”

  “Really? How about that.”

  It wasn’t until they’d walked into the lobby of Brand’s—and Zach’s—condo building that Zach turned and frowned at him. “You didn’t let me give you the door code.”

  “I didn’t need it.”

  “You didn’t…?” Zach screwed his face up as though trying to figure out a difficult problem, then said, “You’re clairvoyant.”

  Brand laughed and pressed the elevator call button. “Not quite.” Like this, awkward and a little slow, Zach wasn’t grumpy, he was almost adorable.

  “Oh.” Zach frowned again.

  “I live here too.”

  Zach’s lips parted. “Oh,” he said again, this time with understanding in his gaze.

  “What floor are you on?” Brand asked.

  “Fifth. Number 502.”

  “Fifth floor, coming up.” He helped Zach onto the elevator. By now his eyes were at half-mast.

  Brand helped Zach into the hallway. “Do you have your fob?”

  “Fob?” Zach frowned and reached into his pants pocket, then repeated this three more times in each pocket, each time coming up empty. “Shit.”

  The concierge closed at nine, and it was nearly one. Zach had probably left his key ring at the newspaper. They could go back, but Zach was in no shape to walk—he’d slid down the wall and was seated on the floor, snoring softly—and Brand wasn’t going to leave him like this alone.

  “Zach?” Brand put a gentle hand on Zach’s cheek.

  Zach’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Brand’s chest tightened as he put a hand under Zach’s right arm and helped him to his feet. He was lighter than Brand expected. “Time to get you into bed.” That didn’t come out sounding the way he’d intended, but Zach didn’t seem to mind.

  “Bed. That’d be nice.”

  Brand focused on helping Zach back on the elevator, and they rode down to the second floor. A minute later he unlocked his apartment door and flipped the hallway light on.

  Zach squinted and groaned. “Too bright.”

  Brand shut the light off and used the light outside the window to help him guide Zach to the bedroom and into a sitting position on the bed. “Let me get this off you.” He slipped Zach’s windbreaker off and tossed it on the nearby chair, then untied Zach’s Sperrys and lifted the covers.

  Zach grabbed Brand’s arm, knocking him off balance so he landed facedown beside Zach on the bed. Brand laughed and rolled onto his side. Zach studied Brand for a few seconds, then got to his knees, crawled over to Brand, and pushed him onto his back. Zach climbed on top of Brand, steadying himself with a hand to Brand’s chest before leaning over and kissing him. Or he tried to, anyway, but his lips didn’t quite align with Brand’s.

  Zach giggled, opened his eyes wide, and this time managed to cover Brand’s mouth with his own. Their tongues met in an awkward dance, each blocking the other’s way until Brand took a deep breath and backed off long enough to allow Zach entry.

  Zach’s mouth was hot and the kiss sloppy, but it didn’t matter. Zach had already worked a hand beneath the waist of Brand’s pants, making Brand’s head spin with the alcohol and the physical contact.

  “Nice.” Zach gazed at him through heavy lids and yawned. He glanced briefly around the room and frowned. “Where are we?”

  Brand’s brain slowly registered Zach’s confusion. “My place.”

  Zach’s frown deepened. “Yours?”

  The warning alarm going off in Brand’s alcohol-riddled brain was muffled and distant, but he wasn’t so drunk that he could ignore it. “Zach, I don’t think this is such a—”

  Zach kissed him again, this time tugging at Brand’s shirt as he ran his tongue over Brand’s teeth.

  Fuck, Brand wanted this so bad he already had a raging hard-on. But he didn’t want it this way. He didn’t want Zach to regret things between them. This wasn’t about a high school crush. Zach wasn’t a conquest to brag about. He’d gone into this wanting a relationship, and he wasn’t going to screw it up by giving in to—

  Zach slid his hand over Brand’s hard cock, causing Brand to gasp in reply. “Zach, I really don’t think—”

  “Hard.” Zach grinned at him and they were suddenly kissing again.

  Brand ran his hands up from the small of Zach’s back to his shoulders, luxuriating in the angles of Zach’s body and his lean muscles. He wanted to see Zach without any clothing. He wanted to spend the night holding him, feeling Zach’s skin against his own without the fabric between them.

  “Whoa. Zach.” Brand pulled away from Zach, who looked up at him with eyes wide and dark with emotion. He looked genuinely disappointed. Sad, even, as though Brand’s words had wounded him. “I want this—you have to believe me. I really do. But not like this.”

  Zach smiled and his eyes fluttered closed. A moment later he was softly snoring on Brand’s pillows.

  Brand sighed and got off the bed, then gently removed Zach’s jeans and shirt and hung them up. He pulled the covers over Zach’s shoulders and snagged a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dresser. He took one look back at Zach, who was sleeping peacefully, and closed the door behind him. The couch was comfortable enough.

  Chapter Nine

  “FUCK, FUCK, fuck.” Zach’s head pounded like a marching band drum corps. He rubbed his eyes a few times and the room came into focus. “Where…?”

  The layout was similar, but this wasn’t his room. Hell, it wasn’t even his apartment.

  He tried to get off the bed, but his legs wobb
led like Jell-O. He landed on his ass on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

  Someone burst into the room. What was Brand doing here? “Oh my God! Are you all right?” Brand got onto his knees and put his hand on Zach’s shoulder.

  “’M fine.” His mouth wouldn’t work.

  “Can I help you up?”

  For the first time, Zach got a good look at Brand. He was dressed in a ratty T-shirt and a pair of sweats, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. So Mr. Perfection looks like the rest of us when he wakes up. Which led him to the realization that this must be Brand’s apartment.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  As Brand helped him up, Zach struggled to remember the night before. Brand helping him get the copy edits done by deadline. Check. Drinks and tapas at Grace’s Place. Check. Thinking Brand looked good. Check. Having a few more drinks and a little more food. Check. Thinking Brand looked edible. Did I really think that? Brand helping him home. Seriously? Did I drink that much? Kissing Brand on the bed and—Fuck, fuck, fuck! Had he actually thrown himself at Brand?

  “But we didn’t…,” he said without thinking.

  Brand—bless his heart—blushed. Did guys these days even do that? No, of course we didn’t have sex. Brand’s too decent a guy to take advantage of my shitfaced stupidity.

  “Zach?” Brand looked a little worried. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Zach nodded. His tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  “Coffee?”

  He nodded again. He must really look like shit. And so what? What do I care if I look like death warmed over? Still, he avoided breathing on Brand, and he ran a hand through his hair.

  “Coming right up.”

  Zach must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Brand knocked on the door and poked his head inside. “Coffee’s ready. Can I help you up?”

  “Sure.”

  Brand smiled and offered Zach his arm. Zach pretended he didn’t care how smooth Brand’s skin felt against his palm and how the muscles of his broad shoulders tensed when he pulled Zach slowly onto his feet.

  “How do you feel?”

  “’Kay.”

  “Think you can make it out to the kitchen?”

  Zach didn’t realize how badly he needed to pee until he was standing up. “Bathroom?”

  “Over there.” Brand gestured to the doorway on his right. “Need help?”

  Zach shook his head, then walked slowly—very slowly—over and shut the door behind him. He sat heavily on the toilet and took a few gulps of air. Like hell he was going to let a guy he was attracted to—whom he actually liked—help him piss.

  He relieved himself and flushed before attempting to stand again. The dizziness ebbed a bit, and he made it over to the sink to wash his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror. Black circles under his eyes, pasty skin…. With the gray hairs that had snuck into his hair and beard in the years after he’d left New York, he looked more like forty-eight than thirty-eight.

  At least he didn’t need a shave. He’d trim his beard later. You should be more worried about the fact that you’re wearing your fucking underwear. Not to mention he’d let himself get so trashed the night before he’d nearly hopped into bed with Brand. More like dragged him into bed.

  He wished there was a way to sneak out of the apartment without Brand knowing. Tempting as it was, he’d stay and face the music. He owed Brand that, if only to clear the air between them and apologize for having made such a stupid mistake.

  He stole a bit of toothpaste and used his finger to clean his teeth, then washed his face. By the time he made his way to the kitchen, he felt a hundred and fifty percent better. Not his usual self—he’d need a good night’s sleep, a shower, and a clean set of clothes for that—but human again.

  “Thought you might like this.” Brand offered him a robe, which he happily slipped on and tied around his waist.

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat.” Brand gestured to the table. “I’ll pour you some coffee.”

  “Thank you.” How many times would he say that before it was enough? “Really. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate—”

  “Don’t sweat it. I had a good time last night.” Brand’s smile seemed genuine, which went a long way toward making Zach feel better about the whole fiasco.

  “Oh.”

  Brand turned to the counter. “What do you take in your coffee?”

  “Black, please.”

  “We have something else in common.” Brand poured two big mugs and sat facing Zach. “I’m guessing breakfast is premature?”

  “Good guess.” Zach inhaled the pungent coffee and sighed. Dark roast. “Best kind of brew. Puts hair on your chest.”

  Brand chuckled and nodded, and they sat in silence for a long minute. “I had no idea we lived in the same building,” he finally said.

  “Me either.” Zach shook his head. “Guess that’s another thing we have in common.”

  Brand’s Apple Watch lit up. He glanced down at it and frowned. “I need to get to the studio. Editorial meeting in an hour.”

  “No problem.” Zach picked up his mug and stood. “I’ll get the concierge to let me into my place.”

  “You don’t need to rush.” Brand’s cheeks pinked. “I’m just sorry I can’t make you breakfast.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be fine.” Why would Brand think he should make breakfast? Zach had been the one to impose. “Besides, Arlo’s going to be pissed as hell that his breakfast is late.”

  “Arlo?”

  “My cat.”

  “Oh.” Brand smiled, but this time he shoved his hands in his pockets and seemed nervous. “Listen, Zach, I just wanted to—”

  “No worries. I shouldn’t have put you in that position last night. It was a mistake—mine entirely. It won’t happen again.” He wasn’t interested in dating. He wasn’t even very interested in sex. The last thing he wanted was for Zach to think otherwise.

  “Sure. I understand.” Brand glanced at his watch, then added quickly, “I need to get my ass in gear. Your clothes are hanging in the bedroom closet. Do you need to shower?”

  “I’ll shower at my place. You should go ahead and take a shower.” He suddenly felt incredibly awkward, like a kid on a first date.

  “Sounds good. And don’t worry, I’ll change in the bathroom so you can take your time getting dressed. I’ll give you a call later, make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “No need. I’ll be fine.” Zach followed Brand’s lead and placed his empty mug in the dishwasher. By the time he’d gotten dressed, Brand was in the bathroom and the water was running.

  Zach took a quick glance around the apartment—a comfy overstuffed couch, a straightforward reclining chair, a few photos of a young Brand with a woman he guessed was Brand’s mother, throw pillows, and a wool afghan on the couch. The place reminded him a lot of Brand—simple, comfortable, and unpretentious.

  Zach pulled on his jacket and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Tomorrow he’d track down Brand’s email and send him a note of thanks.

  Chapter Ten

  BRAND FINISHED shooting a short piece on post-hurricane cleanup efforts in town around four, then spent the next two hours working on copy for a segment on price gouging. By the time he headed home, the sun was low on the horizon, and he realized he’d forgotten to text Zach to see how he was.

  He detoured onto Front Street and walked around the corner where the River Watch’s offices were located. The lights were still on and the door was unlocked. Checking in person was better than a lame text, right?

  “You again?” Zach stood in the hallway, cup of coffee in hand, eyeing him over his glasses.

  Brand grinned. Zach didn’t look pissed. In fact, he looked as though he was trying really hard not to look pleased to see Brand. “Glad to see you’re doing okay.”

  Zach shrugged and pulled a few pieces of paper off the printer at the end of the hallway, th
en walked back to his office.

  Brand followed and sat in a chair facing Zach’s desk. “You look busy.”

  Zach frowned. “This week’s paper’s in the bag. But the way things are going, the only thing that’s going to end up in next week’s paper are the ads.”

  “That bad?”

  “I’m used to it. If the guy I tapped for the reporter’s job wasn’t as good as he is, I’d never have let him put off his start date this long.” Zach sipped his coffee. Brand guessed Zach hadn’t taken a break since the morning, given the dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “Have you eaten anything?” Brand asked.

  “I had breakfast.”

  “It’s dinnertime.”

  Zach lifted his coffee mug in response.

  “I’ll take that to mean you haven’t eaten anything since then.”

  “Are you my keeper now?” Zach half frowned, half smirked.

  “Do you need me to be?” Brand liked the idea of taking care of Zach.

  “Veronica Caldwell wouldn’t appreciate the competition.” Zach set down his cup. “Of course, she’s in an independent living community in Bayonne, New Jersey, so she isn’t exactly competition.”

  Brand stood. “Then she won’t mind if I make sure you eat something.”

  “Not a very romantic invite, Mr. Josephson.”

  “You want me to get down on one knee?” Maybe the temporary thaw of the night before wasn’t completely gone.

  “Not particularly.” Zach pulled off his glasses and set them by the computer. “Your treat?” he added with a canny grin.

  “Of course. What’re you up for? Sushi? Tapas?”

  Forty-five minutes later, they sat at the counter of Bob’s Diner, hamburgers with fries piled high on plates in front of them. Brand couldn’t remember the last time he’d had burgers and fries. Since he’d gotten his first on-screen job, he’d given them up for steak and salad. There might come a time in his career when wouldn’t have to worry as much about his looks, but this wasn’t it. He’d add an extra twenty crunches to his fitness routine for the next week to make up for indulging.

  Zach sighed and fanned the steam coming off the fries toward him. “One of these days I’ll do a story about how good trans fats are for you.”