by E. Davies
God, everything going on in my head is amazing. I want the whole world to know how incredible Tag is and what he does to me.
“Did you forget this?”
I nearly leap out of my skin. My boss is standing behind me, holding a printed page.
Shit. I started this lunch break by typing poetry before deciding that I’ll do better handwriting it. I must have hit print and forgotten about it in my eagerness to let the ideas flow.
My cheeks flush. “I don’t habitually print personal material on the office network,” I promise him solemnly.
Gary is a good guy and he’s usually pretty laidback. I don’t think he cares, but I still feel like I’ve been caught texting in class.
He laughs. “I waste more paper every time the damn thing jams. Don’t worry about it, kid.” Then he leans past me to set the page on my desk and claps my shoulder.
Oh, God. He read it, didn’t he? I fix a smile on my face and pray that he goes away, right now. Maybe vanishing into the floor? That would work.
But he doesn’t. In the kindest voice possible, Gary says, “Don’t quit your day job yet, though, huh? We need you here.”
“Uh huh,” I mumble.
But instead of deflating totally, I just remember last night—the depth of passion in Tag’s eyes as he listened to me read my work. He believes in me. What Gary just saw was my warmup exercises, not my finished work. Embarrassing, but not representative of my skill.
“I wasn’t planning to,” I promise him. “But I don’t want to end up like a kid who skateboards on the same leg all the time. You know, all numbers, no creativity.”
Gary looks surprised for a moment as he leans on the cubicle and bites into an apple. “Not a bad analogy,” he admits when he swallows. “But I used to be an artist, you know?”
“You?” Then I turn crimson with embarrassment. I didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but Gary is the kind of guy who wears the same three colors of button-down shirts all the time. He never struck me as an artist. “Sorry.”
He’s not offended. He just chuckles and throws the apple core in the trash, dusting his hands off. “Yep. You’ve got some talent, don’t get me wrong,” he nods at my warmup exercises again. “But nobody told me until I got into a mountain of debt from an art degree that I couldn’t paint for shit.”
I don’t want to laugh, but his grin invites me to laugh with him, so I do. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. I hate it. I liked screwing around drawing cartoons, and I thought a fine arts degree was my ticket to a syndicated comic strip.” Gary rolls his eyes. “Luckily, accounting saved me, and now I’m here.”
I wait, wondering if he’s still drawing those cartoons, but he doesn’t offer up any more information. There’s not even an inspirational tale about doing what you love on the side.
He just smiles expectantly at me, so I smile back at him. “Yeah. Good thing I love numbers.”
Gary chuckles. “Sure is. Anyway, I’ll send you the new client’s file after lunch, huh? Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, rolling backward to watching him head back to his office and close the door. Then I let out a sigh and scoot back to my desk before pressing my forehead against my notebook.
I’m tired of people trying to save me from mistakes they got to make. And that answers my other pressing question: whether I should answer my brothers’ group chat texts about how last night went.
I texted them good morning, so they know I’m alive. And it’s normal for us to go a few days without talking to each other. They can deal with their curiosity for a little while.
I just want to give this a fair shot with Tag before I start reporting back to other people. I don’t want them analyzing our relationship, like what we have can be entered into a spreadsheet.
Maybe it’s a mistake, but it’s about time I followed my heart. Whether I’m falling in love or falling over my own ass remains to be seen, but I don’t think that’s the point.
Romance isn’t about the destination. I’ve been focused on that for too long. It’s about the journey, and for the first time in my life I’m just relaxing and letting things unfold without second-guessing myself.
Nobody is going to get in the way—not yet. There’s too much sweetness to enjoy first.
11
Tag
Considering how long I’ve been living here, I don’t get out much. This is my first time actually eating in the Maple Factory, even though it’s right next door to Vino and Veritas on Church Street. Usually I dash in, grab a maple donut, and run.
Anyone I want to meet for business, I bring my wares to their bar or restaurant. And I don’t have a lot of friends locally, mostly hiking buddies I just meet on the trails.
Truth be told, I’ve spent a lot of time avoiding being in public, too. Years of dodging paparazzi and trying to get groceries without being interviewed can take their toll.
Now that I’m meeting Caleb here, I feel strangely like I’m connected to the town at last, and nobody is pointing or staring. I’m nice and anonymous, but people still smile at me on the way in and hold the door.
“Thanks,” I say and hurry through, looking around. Caleb isn’t here—phew. No keeping him waiting this time.
It’s a cute little bakery and café, and exactly the kind of place to make my stomach growl as soon as I walk through the door. It might surprise people to find out that I don’t have that much of a sweet tooth, considering what I do. Just as well, or more honey would wind up in me than in the mead.
But a maple cruller from this bakery? Oh, I can make an exception for them.
As I hear the door opening behind me, the hair on the back of my neck tickles just right. I know who’s here before I even see him. I’m already grinning as I turn around.
“Well, look who showed up.”
Caleb gasps and pretends to look for the watch he’s not wearing. “You beat me!”
“I’ve been waiting hours, you know,” I tell him, keeping a perfectly straight face. “My feet are falling off.”
People nearby hide their smiles in the way you do when you see a couple on a date, and that makes me even happier. I have to agree: we’re obviously cute together.
“You’re lying,” Caleb accuses me.
And for a moment, the gulf in my chest opens once more. My heart races as I swallow down my panic. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. He can’t out me in public!
Caleb jabs me in the chest with his finger as he playfully scowls. “I saw you park your truck.”
See? My worries come to a screeching halt, and I swallow down my second thoughts once again. I laugh, hoping it’s not as shaky as it feels. “Damn. Busted.”
Before he can notice anything amiss, I turn away to lead us to a table. “Over here?” I choose one next to the window and pull back a chair for him.
I love how flustered he looks when I spoil him, so it only makes me want to do it more. Sure enough, Caleb shyly folds his hands in his lap as he sits down. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome,” I murmur, leaning down a little as I push his chair in. My breath ghosts over his skin, and I can’t miss the goosebumps that pop up in response, or the eager hitch to his breathing.
“Now, what can I get you?”
His eyes shine up at me. “A maple cruller, please and thank you.”
“And to drink? Coffee?”
Caleb stares at me. “Oh, no. I like sleeping. Green tea, please.”
I chuckle. “Green tea it is,” I agree, keeping my thoughts on the beverage to myself. Then I head up to the counter, glad that there isn’t a line. We’ve come at the quietest time, it seems. There’s only one other table with a young couple talking intensely.
Once I’ve ordered the crullers and two cups of green tea—despite my misgivings, I’m prepared to give it a chance on Caleb’s word—I return to the table and settle down across from him. “Here we go.”
“Thanks.”
The war in my head isn’t ge
tting any easier. If I tell Caleb, I’m risking him outing me to the whole town. It would shatter my peaceful little life here.
But maybe I don’t have to give him the whole speech now. I could just tell him I used to be in a band or something. No need to tell him which band.
I don’t know him well yet, but I think I know him enough. If I ask him to keep a secret, I trust him to do it.
But before I can say a word, Caleb stares at me like a deer caught in headlights. “Um… oh, God. Sorry.”
“For wh—”
A big hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey!” The voice is friendly enough, but not one I know. I turn and look up at the guy standing next to us.
No question about it, this is one of Caleb’s brothers. They have an eerily similar smile, but of the two of them, Caleb won the hotness lottery. This guy is dressed in a suit and tie and shiny shoes in a town where not many people just go around dressed like that.
Caleb said one of his brothers was a lawyer, didn’t he? I think I’m about to meet him.
“You must be Tag.” The guy sticks out a hand to shake. “Elijah. Or just Eli.”
“Hi.” I take his hand and shake it, then try to stand up, but he waves off the formality.
“Oh, don’t let me bother you two.” Contrary to his words, Eli seems determined to bother us, because he grabs a chair from the next table and turns it backward, plopping down to grin at us both. “I just wanted to introduce myself since I was passing by.”
This guy has a big personality, the kind that fills a room. If his brothers are anything like him, I suddenly understand why Caleb is so quick to turn into a wallflower.
“That’s nice of you,” I agree with a placid smile. I risk a glance at Caleb, who looks like he wants to disappear into a hole. “It’s good to meet his family.”
Truth be told, I’m flying blind here, but I really want Caleb to like me and he does seem to value his family’s opinions. And it is a little weird for his big brother to suddenly show up for an interrogation.
Poor guy. It’s starting to make sense now why he feels like he can’t strike out on his own.
Caleb peeks up at me. “You don’t mind?” he asks with a mouthful of cruller.
I really don’t. It surprises even me. But nobody can choose their family, and it could be a lot worse. Like, Eli could be an actual ax murderer in the woods.
“Nah,” I assure him.
Eli tilts his head as he looks at me. “You look familiar. We haven’t met, have we? Normally I remember faces,” he adds, apologetically. “Tag, is it?”
“No, no. Don’t worry. I don’t think we have,” I assure him, smiling as I try to keep the panic inside. “Just Tag.” I’m sure as hell not telling him my full name. The last thing I need is for Eli to turn out to be a Jet Slack fan.
“Phew. I never forget a client. I don’t want to break my record.” Still, he eyes me like he’s trying to see my jawline underneath my beard. Which is exactly why I let it grow out—so that I’m a lot harder to spot.
It still happens sometimes, especially in big cities. But here in Burlington, I’ve been hoping that after years out of the spotlight, people will just assume I’m part of the background scenery.
To derail that conversation before it can go entirely the wrong way, I smile. “Caleb’s told me lots about his family. It sounds like you all get along pretty well.”
“Yeah,” Eli says and grins. “We’ve heard about you too. But I think our Caleb was planning to hide you until the wedding.”
I laugh gamely, but Caleb turns scarlet and mutters, “Eli.”
Eli raises his hands and gets up. “Okay, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it so I don’t scar him for life.”
“Too late. About twenty-odd years too late.”
“True. And I’ve got all the embarrassing stories to prove it,” Eli tells Caleb and reaches out as if to ruffle his hair. Caleb dodges, so he chuckles and waves to me, then says, “See you, kid.”
“Bye,” Caleb says pointedly. Once the door closes, he drops his forehead into his hand and rests his elbow on the table. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to do that.”
I just chuckle and reach over the table, offering him my palm. “I know what brothers are like. They’ll keep teasing as long as you’re shy about it. But you’ve got nothing to hide. How about we give them something to really gossip about?”
Caleb’s eyes widen as he looks up at me. Then he smiles slowly and shifts so he can rest his palm in mine instead. “Thanks,” he whispers.
I wink. “Just gaze into my eyes like we’re…” I twirl my fingers through the air, miming a fork. “Sharing a bowl of spaghetti.”
Caleb’s lips twitch like crazy. I can tell how hard it is to hold in the giggles. “Please don’t mime spaghetti.”
Oh, God. Now I want to crack up, imagining us sucking up thin air and mirroring each other’s movements. I bite my tongue hard.
Neither of us look around, but out of my peripheral vision, I can see him stumble to a halt on the other side of the window.
“Slurp,” Caleb whispers.
Oh, no. I can’t hold it inside anymore. My shoulders start to shake as Eli hurries past us. Just in time, because I crack into loud laughter.
“Caleb,” I manage once I catch my breath. “Man, don’t do that. I think I broke a rib.”
Caleb snorts with laughter, which only sends us both into another fit of laughter.
“Oh my God, the group chat will be wild.” Caleb grins at me when we finally calm down. “Thank you. They’re all worried that…” he trails off, hesitant.
“That what?”
He turns a funny shade of pink and raises his green tea to his mouth. From behind the cup, he mumbles, “You want to get into my pants.”
I raise an eyebrow. That explains the protectiveness. “I do. But that’s not all I want from you.”
“I know,” Caleb murmurs. Then he smiles shyly and reaches for my hand again, laying his palm lightly on mine.
It makes my heart go all kinds of funny, and I find myself stunned into silence, gazing at him. He doesn’t look away. And this time, we’re not just teasing.
I swallow hard, my pulse racing. His green hues have caught my attention and pinned it down. I just want to scoop him up in my protective embrace and give him the confidence to stand up to everyone.
He’s beautiful. All he needs is to be himself.
“It’s nice that they care about me getting hurt, but it’s getting a little ridiculous.” Caleb shakes his head ruefully. “I just want a fairytale romance without everyone breathing down our necks.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, and I finally squash down the guilt. “I know what you mean.”
Thank God I didn’t tell him, then. He’s going to think that I want some guy to be in the spotlight with me. And maybe I used to want that. Truth is, these days I just want a guy who drags me into the corner of the party and steals my heart.
So far he’s doing a pretty damn good job of that.
After meeting Eli, I’m pretty sure he could wrangle the details out of Caleb and then my identity will be all over town. Better to keep both of us safe from everyone else’s expectations for a little while longer.
“Just the two of us,” I promise aloud in a murmur.
Caleb smiles and scratches my palm gently with his fingernails. Oh, God, the sharp sensation sends my brain screeching to a halt, a line of fire shooting directly down my spine into my dick.
Not so sure about sitting next to the window now. But Caleb obliviously keeps tracing circles over my palm, and it feels so good in deep parts of my brain that I don’t want him to stop.
I sip my green tea and then make a face. Yeah, I’m not a convert. I think it must be a healthy person thing. I’m healthy, but not so healthy I want to sacrifice my taste buds.
Now that the cup is cool enough, I drain it fast to get it over with.
I try my hardest to keep my reaction inside, but Caleb laughs at the face I make. “That�
�s a no to green tea, then. I won’t judge you too harshly.”
“Strictly coffee for me.”
“Even this close to bedtime?”
I’m torn between two answers—the nice, polite one, and the one I really want to give. But after a moment, I realize that Caleb’s giving me a sly little grin. Waiting to see if I take the opportunity.
I could tell him that coffee doesn’t really keep me awake—but I can’t tell him that years of sleeping when and where I could on the road seemed to do that to me. So instead, I choose option B.
“Bedtime isn’t that close,” I murmur. “I’m sure they’re closing up soon here. Do you wanna… head somewhere else?”
“How about my place? It’s just a few blocks away.”
Yes! I was hoping he’d offer. I’m endlessly curious about Caleb, and there’s no better way to get to know someone than to see where they live. “Awesome,” I agree. “No nosy dogs to interrupt us.”
Caleb giggles. “Perfect,” he agrees and drains his cup of green tea. Then he eats the last few bites of his cruller and licks his fingers clean.
Very thoroughly and slowly.
Okay, I’m only a weak mortal. Try as I might, I can’t stop myself staring at Caleb, memorizing the sight of his pink tongue running around his digits.
Suddenly my shower fantasies are back, and they’re a hundred times more intense playing out in front of my very eyes.
My cheeks go hot, and my ears are buzzing until I almost can’t hear his next words.
“Ready? I’m all done now. Let’s go.”
“Yup,” I manage, shifting in my chair to zip up my jacket before I stand up. Luckily it goes down to mid-thigh—and I wore dark trousers today.
“If you don’t mind a little walk,” Caleb adds, his eyes sparkling like he knows exactly what trouble I’m having. When I cast a little look his way, I notice that he’s wearing a baggy sweater that goes to mid-thigh. Fashionable but also practical, I now see.
“I don’t mind,” I tell him and lace my fingers with his, stepping out into the cold.