by Bria Quinlan
“You want me to come in and make coffee with you?” Because, yeah. That sounded lame to me too, since he was here pretty often already. And Abby would kill me.
“No. I thought you could come to my other job. Well, one of my other jobs.” I brushed my hands down my apron, hoping they weren’t leaving sweat marks behind.
“Oh. What other job?”
Well, that wasn’t a yes! But, I guess it was the question a sane person would ask.
“I have this job where I take pictures.” Because explaining it further than that was just embarrassing.
I knew this was the job I wanted him to see me at because it was the closest to my dream that I had. He’d gotten to show me his dream and how he was living it. I tried to channel Ash and realized that I was worth the same as he was. That working a bunch of jobs and going to school didn’t mean I was less worthy than a guy living his dream.
But, the old fears died hard: That he either knew this and was setting me up, or he had no idea how far ahead in life he was.
So, I’d take him to my job and hopefully I’d win him over with the charm of it all.
But, before that, I had to check one thing.
“You don’t have any allergies, do you?”
14
Sage
“I have zero allergies. And, little known fact, I am also hypoallergenic and made from 100% organic materials.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned at her responding tiny eye roll.
“Well, good,” Emily replied, her hands smoothing down her apron again. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be nervous with him, but somehow knew that would only make it worse. “But I suppose you’re already working tonight...?”
Sage shrugged one shoulder. “I’m heading over there right now. I’ll tell them I need a hard out by whatever time you need. They won’t mind. They’re in rewriting mode right now anyway.”
“Wait.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going over there now? Isn’t this basically an hour out of your way?”
He lifted his cup. “I take my coffee very seriously.” Seeing she was unimpressed, he added, “And I had to pick up a couple of pedals and some other spare parts a block from here.” He didn’t tell her the part about him volunteering wholeheartedly when Luke had called him that morning to ask about that particular errand. Because he did take his coffee seriously. And also, it was the perfect excuse for him to stop into The Brew to see if Emily had had enough of him already.
Her soft blush and happy smile when she saw him had been pleasantly surprising.
The allergy question was irrelevant. He was so smitten with her at this point he could be deathly allergic to strawberries and he’d allow her to drop him onto a vat of jam.
The pastries nearby caught his eye. “Can I get all of your muffins?”
“What now?” she asked, taken off guard.
Sage grinned. “Harrison will be able to smell the fresh pastries on me when I walk in the door. So can I get all of your muffins? Every single one you have?”
This would guarantee him time off tonight for sure.
Emily’s smile was so big and so bright as she packed up the muffins, Sage couldn’t wait until later. They made plans for where to meet, and he left.
For the record, the muffins worked like a charm. Sage was able to get home and shower before going on another non-date with Emily.
He threw his fifth shirt onto the closet floor. Okay, so getting ready for this non-date was beginning to stress him out. He didn’t have “date” clothes. Which was fine, because, not a date. But he was hanging out with a girl he liked. A lot. At the very least, he didn’t want to dress like a toddler.
He looked to the ceiling letting out a long sigh.
“This is so dumb.”
Okay, so jeans. He opened the third drawer down on his dresser and scooped up every pair of Levi’s, tossing them onto the bed. Dimly, he realized that this was the exact behavior that left his apartment in shambles more days out of the month than not.
He parceled out the jeans, ranking them from greatest to least by frequency of wear.
Really? He tossed a pair into the corner that both back pockets had ripped out of. Those were just garbage. Before they had even settled into their corner, he was chasing after them. He could use them downstairs for textured rags.
A dark wash denim caught his eye and he snatched them up in suspicion. Where had these come from? They looked brand new. He flipped them over to look at the backside. Oh, nope. Oil stain on the back pocket. He needed to learn how to check where he was sitting before he actually sat. But the stain was small, comparatively. And, hey! No holes!
Okay, those were the jeans.
He jerked the top drawer open to get a pair of boxers.
“Of course, Sage. Why would you have clean underwear? You’re a responsible adult who does his own laundry.” He cursed at himself as he held the towel around his waist and ran into his living room. The Target bag was way too light to give him hope. He pulled out the empty underwear package and his heart sank.
“I suck at this,” he hissed, stomping back into his bedroom. He stared at the jeans. Would going commando on a second non-date be considered slutty? “I just won’t tell anyone,” he rationalized, dropping the towel.
Buttoning the jeans, he stepped back to look in the mirror. He really wished he would have paid attention before to see if wearing boxers was obvious. Because he couldn’t tell the difference.
He spun back to the closet.
Shirt.
Why didn’t he own anything marginally nicer than his five-dollar Hanes T-shirts. But the next step up was a plaid button-down. And since he wasn’t picking her up in 1994, he should probably leave the plaid at home. Maybe she wouldn’t notice it was a Hanes. He yanked a dark green one off a hanger and slipped it over his head. Then he backed up to look in the mirror.
No holes, no stains, no underwear.
He was as ready as he could be.
15
Emily
The buzzer sounded, and I cursed the fact that I had to wait for Megan to get out of the shower for my turn. I’d thought about skipping, but this was so not a job you could go to smelling like food.
“Did the buzzer just go off?” Megan stuck her head out from the bedroom.
“Yup.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the door. “Danny probably forgot his key again. I’ll check when I get down there.”
“Oh.” Megan glanced around as if someone were supposed to have brought her some great surprise and it had been canceled. “Sure. Have fun at work.”
I gave her a wave and pulled the door shut before she could try to peek down the staircase. Deep breath. In. Out. Okay, Emily. It wasn’t a date. You were going to work. You were just bringing a guest. It was a work-guest thing.
I should have made him a guest badge.
But then, not everyone gets my humor, so maybe not.
I ran down the stairs, slowing as I reached the last turn in the bottom flight. I came around the corner and…there he was. On my stoop. The late afternoon sun hitting him in his Ray-Ban sunglasses, those lean arms crossed over an almost-fitted hunter green tee.
He looked good. Too good.
“Hey!” I pushed the door open, and almost took him out.
He hopped back a step, almost missing the edge of the sidewalk, but caught himself.
“Sorry!” Okay, Emily. Seriously. No killing him, and enough with the exclamations.
“No worries.” He ran a hand through his hair, probably wondering if I’d wrecked it with the wind of the door I pushed out at Mach-some-number-I-should-know. “So, where are we headed?”
“Can it be a surprise?” Because, I’m not sure there was a sane way to describe this job.
“Sure. Surprises are great.” He didn’t sound like he was feeling too sure about that. More like he knew that was the right thing to say.
“Anyway, we can walk there from here.” Which was the best way to save cash.
I was too embarrassed to ask him to drive. And, what if he wanted to bail early? There probably wasn’t a what if about it. He’d probably stay as long as he thought he had to and make a run for sanity.
But, if I was going to take a risk on getting to know someone, out here in the open where he had the chance to run was probably the best place.
“So, you sound kind of anti-partying…” Which, let’s be honest, with my past always two steps behind me, was probably a good thing. “How in the world did you think you were going to travel with rock stars and be in a drug-free zone?”
Beside me, Sage stutter-stepped as if I’d taken him by surprise. But—seriously—obvious question much?
“You know how you met my mom?”
“The one who brought you your allowance so you wouldn’t starve to death?”
“It’s not like I live in the house. I have my own apartment.” Sage let out a long-suffering sigh…which, really. He had a free apartment, how much suffering could there be? “Yes. Her.”
“Okay.”
“She’s technically my stepmom. My birth mom died shortly after I was born.” He sucked in a deep breath, and I held mine. “Of a drug overdose.”
“Oh.” I stopped. My brain stopped. My feet stopped. I just stopped.
Thanks a freaking lot, Ashleyton. Get to know him. Go out on a limb. What harm could there be? Oh yeah. Piece of cake. Dead birth mom.
“Soooo…” I stumbled around, looking for the right words. “You’re pretty straight edge about the drugs and booze, then?”
“I’m not much of a drinker…thus the Tolkien tattoo on my arm.”
“And so, yeah. Still…rock stars?”
“Well, music. It’s music.” Sage smiled, and I could see passion for the music was what really drove him.
“And so, if you hadn’t found this magically clean—”
“No magic. These guys work their asses off to have the tour go like this. They’ve been through hell together and I’m lucky they welcomed me in their safe world afterward.”
I heard it all in his voice. The respect, the awe that he was where he was, and maybe something more. Maybe something girls would call love and guys would call…whatever.
We crossed the street, the big pink awning of Glamour Paws sticking out just after the ironic hipster T-shirt store that sold only T-shirts, and for some unknown reason, key chains.
Wow. Did I know how to kill the vibe on a non-date or what?
I had to get this back on track. I didn’t want him to think of death, drugs, a lost mom, and any other weird things that scared him when he thought.
“Sorry. I guess I have a gift for accidentally hitting someone’s weak spot.” Understatement. “But, you’re going to love my job. It’s stupid, but it’s a lot of fun.”
I stopped in front of Glamour Paws and pointed up.
“What? Here?” Sage looked at the pink awning as if it might collapse on us and suffocate us, and then maybe roll him up and hide his body in a basement.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Sure. Great.” He took a step up the stairs and pushed the door open. “I mean, how weird could it be, right?”
In the doorway, a large white poodle with an oversized pink bow and a tutu sniffed at his feet.
“Right. Weird.” I reached down and pet the pup. “It’s not weird at all.”
Except for the part where I took glamour shots of pets for people with too much money and not enough ways to spend it.
“You’re going to have a great time.”
16
Sage
It rapidly became clear to Sage what kind of nightmare he had willingly and willfully walked into.
Of course, this made sense for the way things had been going with Emily. Why wouldn't she be a photographer of dogs? Why wouldn't that come up in regular conversation?
“Are you okay?” she asked, her hand landing on his forearm, concern evident in her tone.
Sage smiled tightly. “Yeah, no problem. Why?”
She eyed him, amusement twitching her lips as if she didn't believe him.
He sighed and slid his hands into his pockets (fingers couldn’t be bitten if they were in pockets). “What can I do to help?”
She pointed to a stool nearby, but out of the way. The kind of stool he’d expect to find in any other photography studio. One that people would sit on. Not animals. “You can sit there for now. If I need you to freak out, I’ll let you know.” Again with the amusement.
“I’m not freaking out,” he mumbled more to himself than to her, as he carefully stepped around the tutu'd poodle.
Once he was sufficiently settled on the stool and no other oddly dressed animals had presented themselves, he began to relax. He could do this. Not a big deal.
Emily spoke with her boss and consulted a clipboard, nodding at whatever instructions she received. Sage took the opportunity to look around—without leaving the stool, of course.
It looked like any other photo studio. Except all the pictures on display were large, glowy photos of glamorized dogs. He squinted at a big dog in a frame to his left, its fur long and straight, blowing in artificial wind. Was that dog wearing makeup? Sage shook his head. No, people weren’t that weird. Were they?
Instead of offering any kind of explanation on her return to him, Emily just began taking props out of a huge trunk.
“Do you not like dogs?” she asked, arranging a blue satin backdrop that pooled on the floor. She sounded genuinely concerned, like she was second-guessing having him come along. He must have been emoting more than he realized.
“I like dogs.” Sage tried to sound nonchalant. Did that sound nonchalant? As long as they were about the size of the poodle, he’d be fine.
Emily lightly laughed. “Sure, you do. You’re a picture of composure.”
Sage licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew his body language wasn’t doing him any favors, but he was feeling just a little exposed at the moment. Probably because on the walk there he had shared so much and she had shared so little. He still hadn’t processed that fully.
“I like dogs just fine. I’m more inclined to liking bigger dogs than the smaller ones.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He took a deep breath, feeling the phantom pain in his inner thighs where he’d had to get eleven stitches—five on the right and six on the left—when he was thirteen. All because he hadn’t seen the angry furry attacker in time. “I had a bad experience when I was younger.”
“What kind of experience?”
“A bad one,” he reiterated flatly, returning her eyebrow arch. He had already told her his biggest heartbreak. He wasn’t looking at listing off every one of his insecurities in the immediate follow-up.
She must've sensed his point, because she ducked her head and went back to work—though he didn’t miss the smile she thought she was hiding.
The information he’d shared about his birth mom wasn’t exactly a secret. People who knew him, knew about it. But he’d thought maybe if he’d showed his soft spot, she might...trust him? Show him hers? He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. And now that it was out there, it felt different between them somehow. Nothing had changed, not really. He’d made a statement of fact about his life.
And yet, he couldn’t help but feel something new had bloomed between them.
A barrier, a normal one that belongs in between strangers, had been removed. With his small revelation, he’d announced his intention to trust her. To hear his information and...stay. In his space. In the place he occupied.
Maybe that was why he was feeling strange. He’d offered an invitation, and he was hoping her smiles and her laughter were an indication of accepting.
That maybe, just maybe, she might eventually trust him.
“Which job do you like more? This one, or The Brew?” Sage asked, trying oh-so-hard to hold onto whatever cool he thought he may have possessed before this non-date.
“That’s a toug
h one,” she said, pulling out a pink feather boa from the trunk and tossing it onto the satin. She sat back on her heels and pushed her glasses back into place.
Dang, she was cute.
“I like this one because of the obvious benefits. I get to be around adorable animals and play with cameras the entire time.” Her smile changed and her eyes lost focus. “But The Brew...and the people there...I really love being around them.”
Sage watched as her thoughts tumbled around in her beautiful head, mesmerized by the purity in her expression. She was completely without guile. Her eyes locked on him and she offered a new Emily smile, one he hadn’t been gifted with yet, but was easily in his top five favorite Emily Smiles.
“I actually love all my jobs. It’s hard to pick a favorite when I can’t stop feeling grateful for them. But if I’m being completely honest and a little bit selfish, I think my favorite is the overnight babysitting.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to love getting to sleep in a real bed and have just a little”—she held up her thumb and forefinger while scrunching up her nose—“bit of privacy. Not that I hate living with Ash and Megan.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “But my room is basically a dining room, so...yeah, the little bit of alone time is nice.”
Her revelation sparked something and his chest warmed with the unexpected heat of it. He had to take a very slow, deep breath. She went back to what she was doing (he didn’t want to know—it involved tiaras and teacups). He didn’t want her words to go unappreciated or unacknowledged. He knew it wasn’t her whole story, but it was something, and it felt like a gift. One he wasn’t going to take for granted.
“I like you,” he stated plainly.
When she glanced up at him, she smiled shyly.
And he grinned.
Because that’s what you did when the girl you like smiled at you; you smiled back with everything you had.