A large group, with one noticeably large man at the middle of it.
“The beakers have arrived,” Erica declared. “Get your next round now before they empty the place out!”
Simon let his attention linger as Asher hung his coat up and joined the rest of the scientists at a large round table in the back corner. Asher looked good… like, really good. In the low light of the bar, his hair seemed to glow golden, and he had on a pair of wire-framed glasses that made his entire face look different. I bet they make his eyes look stunning.
Miranda was watching him again when he turned back around.
Simon grimaced. “Erica’s right, we should get another round before they run out of anything good.” He pushed back from the table before Miranda could say anything. “I’ll buy. What do you all want?”
He fled to the bar, relieved to be putting distance between himself and Miranda, and to get farther away from the table in the corner.
You have to get over this dumb crush, Bancroft, he berated himself. With three and a half more months before the first planes would arrive, it was going to be a long, miserable winter if he couldn’t stop lusting after Mr. Tall, Blond, and Uninterested.
A short, skinny form sidled up beside Simon while he was waiting for the bartender. Simon glanced over to see Oli leaning up against the bar, licking his lips as he met Simon’s eyes.
“Si, babe, you’re looking absolutely delicious this evening.”
Oliver Clarke was one of the only other gay men at McMurdo that Simon knew of. They’d wintered together last year as well, and had been fuckbuddies for most of the season—but out of necessity and ease, not from any real attraction. Oli was sexy, sure, but he was also small, flamboyant, and loud; in other words, he wasn’t remotely Simon’s type.
“I thought you came down with a boyfriend this year, Oli.”
“I did. He’s being a dick, and not in a good way, so we’re currently not talking.”
Reason number two hundred why I don’t need a boyfriend. But that explained why Oli was at the bar and flirting with Simon instead of banging his equally hot and tiny boyfriend in their shared dorm room.
The bartender finally came over and took his order. Simon passed over some cash, then glanced at Oli. “I guess you’re going to join us tonight, then?”
Oli winked up at Simon. “Hell yes, if it means I get to stare at your delectable body for the rest of the evening.” He trailed one finger over Simon’s arm, tracing the compact muscle that disappeared under his sleeve. “You been going to the gym after work, babe?”
Simon shuddered as Oli’s nail scraped down his arm, and felt his body start to react. Shit, it’s been way too long since you got any if you’re getting turned on by one tiny flirting touch.
He covered it by pasting on a mock scowl. “None of your business, Clarke. C’mon, you can carry some of these bottles if you’re going to invade our table.”
But Oli didn’t move. When Simon glanced over at him, he was staring off across the bar.
“Oli. Hey.” Simon nudged him with one cold bottle, bringing his attention back. “You zoned out for a second. Winter’s not even halfway over… you getting toasty already?”
“Hm?” Oli shook his head and finally moved to pick up the other beer bottles. “Oh, no. I’m not burned out yet, don’t worry. Just… one of the beakers was looking at you for a second. Like, really staring, super intense.”
What? Simon froze, resisting the urge to turn around and look. “Uh, which one?”
Oli scoffed. “Please, like I have any idea which one is which. They don’t exactly associate with lowly commoners like yours truly.” Oli worked in the cargo department, tracking all of the shipments that came onto base; if he was a commoner, Simon was a street rat.
As much as Simon wanted to ask for more detail, he knew it would only be throwing oil on the flames. Even if it was Asher, why does it matter? He wasn’t really looking at me; he was probably just staring at the bar and trying to decide what drink he wanted.
“Well, then, let’s go join the rest of the commoners before they send a search party to find us,” he said instead.
It only took one more round before Simon realized that putting his best friend and his former fuck at the same table might have been a mistake. Because by the time they’d all had a few beers, conversation had moved on from talking about what TV shows everyone was binging, to analyzing Simon’s sex life—or lack thereof.
“Is there seriously nothing better we can talk about?” Simon asked.
Erica patted him on the arm. “Suck it up, Bancroft.”
“I just don’t believe that you can’t find someone to hook up with, especially when you look like that,” Oli said, gesturing at him.
Miranda laughed and drained her beer. “Oh, he could find someone if he wanted.”
Oli grumbled. “Hell, even that scientist was eyeing you like a fine cut of meat, and I didn’t think those guys paid attention to anything that wasn’t a lab result.”
“Wait, what?” Miranda’s gaze sharpened.
Simon tried to catch Oli’s eye and shake his head, but Oli was sliding past tipsy and didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah,” he said, “the tall one who looks like he bench-presses forklifts.”
Dammit.
“Innnnteresting,” Miranda said.
Simon groaned and put his head in his hands. I’m not drunk enough for this…. “We don’t know he was staring at me,” he stated. “He might be straight, you guys! Maybe he was staring at the bartender.” Kayla was working bar tonight, and even Simon could admit that she was gorgeous.
Oli tilted his head and made a humming sound under his breath. “Methinks our friend Simon doth protest too much.”
“He’s afraid of getting rejected,” Miranda confirmed.
“I’m not—what? I’m not afraid.”
Oli tapped his chin, obviously ignoring Simon’s protests. “Leave it to me.”
“No.” Simon set his drink down and pointed at him. “No one is leaving anything to anyone. Guys.”
Miranda and Oli just laughed at him.
June
JUNE BEGAN a week later with a violent blizzard, the kind that kicked up enough snow and ice to whiteout the entire station. Management called a Condition One, which meant everyone was confined to their building until it passed. The fact that it was a Sunday didn’t matter to Mother Nature, and Simon passed the first half of his day off in his room, going stir-crazy. By the time the winds died down and rope lines could be set up to guide people, he was eager to escape.
He found Miranda in the dining hall and slid into a chair across from her.
“Why don’t you look pissed about the storm?” he asked. “Aren’t you upset that half the day’s been wasted?”
She smirked. “It wasn’t wasted for me. I wasn’t in my dorm when it hit.”
Simon pouted, then went to grab himself some late lunch. Oli and his boyfriend joined Simon and Miranda shortly after. Guess they made up. Everyone’s got someone for the winter… except me.
Simon knew Tyler, but only in the vague way that he knew everyone on station—a name to a face and a rough idea about what he did on station. Tyler might have been just as short and skinny as his boyfriend, but apparently he drove enormous tractors and forklifts like a badass.
“What did we do to deserve the pleasure of your company this afternoon?” Simon asked dryly once they were seated across from him.
“Rude.” Oli rolled his eyes. “I come here with amazing news that will totally make your day, and I’m met with sarcasm.”
Miranda covered a laugh by taking a sip of water. Simon exhaled and put his fork down to wait. He knew Oli well enough to recognize the excitement in his eyes and the way he was squirming in his chair. There was no way Oli could restrain himself for much longer.
Sure enough, Oli spread his hands and declared, “I, the Gossip King of McMurdo, have discovered that the object of your lust is as queer as a three-dollar bill.”
&nb
sp; Tyler finally spoke up, scoffing and folding his arms. “You mean I discovered it.” He pouted. “Stop stealing my credit.”
“Sorry babe.” Oli gave him a quick, smacking kiss, then turned back to Simon. “But that’s great news, right?”
Simon blinked and exchanged a confused look with Miranda. “You’re talking about… Asher?”
“Duh!” Oli poked Tyler in the side. “Tell them, Ty.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Tyler leaned forward and propped his arms on the table. “So one of the beakers asked me to move a crate of supplies for them yesterday, and after I was done, we were chatting for a bit. Along with all of the other juicy information he shared, the scientist happened to mention that your boy, Asher Delaney, had a boyfriend back in the States and broke up with him before coming to pursue his research down here.”
Once it was clear that Tyler was done, Oli made little jazz hands, as though to say, Ta da!
“So, Asher’s gay. So what?”
Miranda gave him a sharp look. “So what? So he just broke up with his boyfriend. Ten bucks says he’s looking for a rebound… which could be you if you’d just march over there right now and climb that man like a goddamn tree.”
Simon sighed and glanced down at his rapidly-congealing lunch. “Look, guys, I’m glad you told me, but—”
“But you’re too scared to make a move,” Oli interrupted.
“No!” Simon sat up straight. “It’s been six weeks since the season started, and he hasn’t said a word to me other than, ‘Excuse me, you’re in my way.’ He has no idea who I am. He might be gay, but he’s clearly not interested.”
Tyler cleared his throat. “Uh, he’s staring at you right now.”
Miranda and Oli’s heads shot up simultaneously to follow Tyler’s gaze across the dining hall. Simon hunched his shoulders and refused to turn around.
“And,” Oli added, “he was one thousand percent staring at you in the bar the other night. Trust me, I know what I saw.”
Simon closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “He wasn’t staring at me at Gallagher’s, and he’s not staring at me now. If he was interested, he’d have said something. It’s not like the entire station doesn’t know I’m gay.”
Tyler laughed. “Okay, but he totally looked away really quickly when we noticed him and started blushing. He’s interested.”
“Maybe he’s nervous,” Miranda said.
“Or maybe,” Oli added, “he thinks you’re not interested, seeing as how you avoid looking at him and are too chicken to even talk to him.”
Miranda smirked. “How about we up the bet. A hundred bucks says that if you showed even the slightest bit of interest, Asher Delaney would fuck you into the mattress before you could finish saying ‘hello.’”
Oli nodded. “I’ll double that. It’ll be the easiest money I’ve ever made, and it’ll get you to stop moping around like the saddest boy in McMurdo. You, my friend, need to get laid. And I’m positive Asher’s up to the task.”
It was an appealing bet. If Miranda and Oli were right, then Simon would be out two hundred dollars, but he’d get what he was certain would be the fuck of a lifetime. And if they were wrong, he’d get to move on with his life, two hundred bucks richer.
“What are the terms?”
“You have to keep trying until Asher fucks you or he outright rejects you,” Oli said promptly. “No giving up after the first conversation.”
Miranda nodded in agreement.
“Fine,” Simon said. “You’re on. But you’ll owe me two hundred dollars and a few rounds at the bar after I get humiliated when Asher turns me down.”
“Deal.” Miranda held out her hand, and Simon shook it.
SIMON GOT his first chance to talk to Asher a few days later, but it wasn’t the way he’d expected.
He overslept on Tuesday morning and had to rush out of his dorm to get to his morning department meeting on time. So he was still blinking away sleep and trying to cover his yawns when his supervisor called on him toward the end of the meeting.
“Simon,” she said.
He blinked his eyes open, brain still fuzzy.
“Can you do it?”
Asking what “it” was would reveal that he hadn’t been paying attention, so Simon just nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great.” His supervisor smiled, and the meeting ended.
“Shit, Ethan, hey.” Simon grabbed his coworker’s sleeve before he could leave. “Uh, what exactly did I just volunteer for?”
Ethan laughed. “Someone needs to clean Crary after hours today.”
Oh no. “But it’s Saturday.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, “which is why none of us wanted to volunteer to do it.”
Well, shit. Simon groaned and rubbed his eyes. “That’s what I get for running late and missing coffee this morning. Damn.”
But there was no point in arguing about it. And cleaning Crary was actually pretty interesting. The building housed the labs and offices for many of the researchers and scientists, so there were always cool displays to check out. And he’d be there after hours, with no one to walk over his newly cleaned floors or get in his way, so he could probably do the entire building in a couple of hours and still meet up with Miranda at the coffee hut after.
Simon made it through the rest of his shift, then bundled up after dinner and made his way across the base. Crary was dark and quiet when he entered.
Perfect.
The to-do list was pretty easy: dusting around the displays and any offices that weren’t in use over the winter; cleaning the bathrooms and the small kitchenette; and mopping and waxing the floors.
Simon rolled his sleeves up, plugged his headphones in, and got to work.
He preferred working in the dining hall, but something about the repetition of janitorial work was strangely soothing. Simon liked the quiet and the way he could sink into his own thoughts while he ran through the familiar tasks. Wintering over was bizarre in some ways; there were only a couple hundred people within a thousand miles of where he stood now, but it also felt like he rarely got to be alone. Getting a little time to himself was a relief.
Unfortunately, his thoughts kept straying to a place he didn’t want to go… and being in the science building didn’t help.
I have to find a chance to talk to Asher. The thought was terrifying. Asher was so handsome, so out of his league, that Simon cringed just thinking about the inevitable rejection. But he also knew Oli and Miranda would hound him until the first flights arrived at Winfly if he abandoned the bet.
So I’ll talk to him. Not in public—god, definitely not at the bar, or anywhere someone might overhear. Simon mopped while he thought. Somewhere like here in Crary would be perfect. Or maybe at breakfast one morning, when he’s alone.
The work went by as quickly as he’d hoped, and the clock showed that it had only been about two hours when Simon finally emptied the mop bucket in a sink and returned the floor wax machine to its home in the janitor’s closet. Then he rolled his shoulders and looked out over his work: a long, uninterrupted, empty hallway with a floor that gleamed.
The building was still silent. Still empty.
With a grin and a hoot of laughter, Simon kicked off his boots and wriggled his sock-enclosed toes against the floor.
Then he took a few running steps and yelled gleefully as he slid easily along the entire expanse of the corridor.
He was busy trying to keep his balance, glancing down at his feet, and didn’t see the barrier appear before him until a split second before he crashed into it. Simon went down, hard, ass hitting the tile floor.
“Ow, shit.”
Simon looked up. And up. And up into a pair of green eyes that were simultaneously concerned and amused.
“You okay?” Asher Delaney asked.
“Uh.”
“Wow. That was, uh, really impressive. I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
Asher was talking to him. To Simon.
Simon opened his m
outh, then closed it. He opened it again. “Uh.”
The amusement vanished, replaced by panic. “Oh no, are you actually hurt? Should I… call somebody?”
“No.” Reality crashed back onto Simon in a rush. “No, I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me. Sorry.”
Asher smiled in relief and hunched his shoulders like he was trying to make himself look smaller. “Pretty sure I should be the one apologizing.” He stretched one hand out toward Simon. “I’m Asher.”
Simon stared at the hand. I know who you are, he thought. Then he blinked and said aloud, “Nice to meet you. Sorry again for running you over.”
“You, uh, need help to get up off the floor?”
“Yeah.” Simon still hesitated, though. Then carefully, he put his hand in Asher’s.
Sparks didn’t fly, and there was no zing of immediate sexual energy. But Asher’s hand was strong and warm, a little dry, and he pulled Simon to his feet so easily that Simon felt blood rush south at the casual show of strength.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Asher said. His voice was soft, almost tentative, and he smiled awkwardly. “Run down the hallway and slide, I mean. You looked so cool.”
Simon shook his head. This was like entering an episode of the Twilight Zone. Asher looked like a linebacker, and felt like a linebacker, but his body language and the way he was speaking were almost timid. Not at all the strong, manly presence Simon had been expecting.
“You could,” Simon said slowly. “It’s not dry yet. Go for it.”
Asher’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Uh.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coveralls and took a step backward. “No, I’m okay. I’d probably just hurt myself. Sorry. But, uh, thanks. For the offer.”
Who is this man? This wasn’t the Asher of Simon’s fantasies, who held him up against the wall without even straining a muscle and fucked him hard and fast.
“I should—”
“Are you—”
They both stopped at the same time. Simon laughed, and Asher smiled and shrugged.
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