The Other Five Percent

by Quinn Anderson

  Logan had followed him around like a puppy, copying everything he did, right down to the smoking. Out of all the guys he’d kissed, Ellis was the only one he’d been with sober. And the only one he’d done more with than kissing. In fact, one night, they’d almost—

  But they hadn’t. That was the important part. That was what Logan needed to remember. Not all these vestigial emotions and memories. Who he was now was what mattered.

  “You look tense. What are you thinking about?”

  Logan peeked between his fingers. Jennifer had once more appeared above the cubicle wall. He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

  She smirked. “You’re lying again.”

  “Do you need something?”

  “Yes, actually.” She pointed to where Logan’s phone lay on his desk. “Someone called you like a million times. Did you honestly not hear it vibrating? I heard it. I bet even Anderson heard it.”

  “Yeah, I did,” called a male voice from the adjacent cubicle.

  “See?”

  Logan rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll put it on silent.”

  “If you’d be so kind.” Jennifer popped back out of sight without further ado.

  Logan did as promised and switched his phone to silent, but not before he checked the call log. Two calls from Abby and one from Rachel within minutes of each other. Goddamn it. One of these days he would have to ask his sisters if they had him bugged or something. How did they always manage to know when he had something on his mind?

  He checked his watch. It wasn’t even close to lunchtime. He couldn’t call them back while he was on the clock. His office was pretty relaxed, but Logan had only been there for six months. He was still proving himself, and knowing his luck, Harrison and Cooper themselves would walk by the second he raised his phone to his ear. Not to mention, his meddlesome neighbors were still nearby.

  Putting his nose to the proverbial grindstone, he worked until the second the clock hit 11:30 a.m. Then he snatched up his phone, announced to no one in particular that he was going to lunch, and hurried out of the main office.

  To the right was a long corridor lined with doors that led to the private offices—the very ones Logan joked about occupying someday. He made his way to a set of double doors on the east side of the building. They let out onto a rooftop garden that had been installed well before Logan’s time. The handful of ficuses were fake, and the “rock garden” was a trough filled with pebbles, but it was a nice gesture. No one besides Logan seemed to use it, so it was a perfect spot for stealing some privacy.

  He settled on a bench next to a pillar and tapped on Rachel’s name in his contacts list. He put the call on speaker and rested the phone on his thigh.

  It only rang once before a static version of his eldest sister’s voice greeted him. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Abby,” Logan replied. “Are you with Rachel, or did you steal her phone again?”

  “She’s with me,” Rachel cut in, sounding distant. Logan imagined her leaning over Abby’s shoulder and shouting in the general direction of the phone. “What’s up, lil bro?”

  “Nothing much.” Logan kept his tone casual. “I’m on my lunch break at work. I saw your missed calls. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing in particular.” Abby echoed his carefree tone. “We just thought we’d check in on our precious little brother.”

  Logan pictured them huddled together in Rachel’s cubicle, close enough that they could both speak into the office phone. He could practically see the matching sparks of eagerness in their mischievous eyes.

  “Is there any chance you’re actually calling to check in and not to pry about my life?”

  “None whatsoever,” Abby replied.

  “I don’t know how you guys do that.”

  “So there’s something going on?”

  “Yeah, you got me. Must be some kind of weird sibling telepathy.”

  “Actually, you always text us in the morning, unless you’re preoccupied by something serious,” Rachel explained. “We never heard from you earlier. So, what happened? Did you quit your job? Kill your boss? Join a cult?”

  “Nothing that major. I just . . . ran into an old friend from college today.”

  “An ‘old friend,’ huh?” Rachel clucked. “I bet it was one of the girls you serial-dated. Am I right?”

  Logan blanched. “No! Definitely not.”

  “Uh-huh. We believe you. Really.” Abby chuckled. “You can’t fool us. It’s been, what, a year since your last girlfriend? You’re due for one. For a while there, it seemed like all you did was date.”

  “Yeah, for all it got me. None of those girls lasted more than a few months.”

  “Well, whose fault is that? You kept breaking up with them because you’d decided they weren’t ‘The One.’”

  “Well, they weren’t.” Logan pouted. “I could just tell.”

  “Whatever you say, lil bro. So, this old friend you ran into, did you charm the pants off her?”

  He started to correct their pronoun choice and then thought better of it. Close as he was with his sisters, he’d never told them about what he’d gotten up to at college. It was too . . . personal. And weird. There was the sex thing, of course—he had no desire to talk about that with his sisters—but there was also the gay thing. That wasn’t something that had ever come up at a Vanderveer family dinner.

  It wasn’t like their parents were against gay people. As far as he could tell, they didn’t feel any particular way about them. They never discussed it. And Mr. and Mrs. Vanderveer, like many parents, assumed their kids were straight. During their childhood, Mom had talked about dream weddings with the girls, and Dad had talked about finding a wife one day with him. That was just how it was.

  Now that Logan thought about it, he was fairly certain he’d mentioned his college friend Ellis to his sisters before, but that would have been years ago. There was no way they remembered him.

  “Uh, no. I wouldn’t say I was charming. In pretty much any sense of the word.”

  “Then what happened? You wouldn’t sound all nervous if you and your college friend just exchanged pleasantries.”

  “Well . . . Look, don’t be mad, but I sorta . . . got out of there as fast as I could.”

  “Logan Allen Vanderveer!”

  He flinched. “You know, that whole talking-at-the-same-time thing is really creepy. Save it for when they inevitably reboot the Shining.”

  “Don’t change the subject. Were you rude to her?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Logan.”

  “Okay, so I wasn’t a picture of politeness either, but I swear I didn’t mean any harm. I was just so surprised my flight-or-fight instinct kicked in or something. I offered up a coffee date, though, and then I booked it.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then Abby said, “Well, I hate to say it, but I think you did the right thing.”

  Logan perked up. “Really? Why?”

  “Well, now that you’re such a drone,” Rachel interjected, “it’s probably better if you don’t talk to normal people. Especially ones who knew you before you sold out.”

  “You realize you both also work in an office, right?”

  “Yeah, but we’re management. That makes us queen bees, whereas you’re a lowly worker.”

  “Thanks, sis. You always know just what to say.”

  “Anything for my little brother.”

  Abby regained control of the conversation. “Are you going to see her again?”

  Logan’s chest constricted. “No. I don’t think I am.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the stick-straight strands. “Hey, listen, I gotta get going. Lots of droning to do and all.”

  “Buzzing,” they corrected at the same time. Then Abby said, “You know you can talk to us, right? If you need advice? We might be able to give you some insight into the mind of the modern female.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” If only you knew, sis.

  “We love you, bro.”

&n
bsp; “Love you too.”

  He jabbed the End Call button and stared at his phone until the screen dimmed. He had no idea why, but he felt worse now than he had when his encounter with Ellis had been fresh. Maybe talking about what’d happened made it more real.

  At least one benefit had come from talking to his sisters: it made him realize how badly he was overreacting. He was pretty sure normal people ran into old friends all the time without having a complete meltdown over it. And Ellis wasn’t even a friend, really. More like an acquaintance. An acquaintance that was every bit as disarmingly sexy as he’d been—

  Logan jumped to his feet and slid his phone into his pocket. He wasn’t going to waste any more time thinking about this. He had work to do.

  He grabbed a quick lunch and then spent the rest of the day pouring every ounce of concentration he had into his ad campaign. By the time five o’ clock rolled around, he’d almost completed all the changes for the Murtagh file. The productivity helped to lift his mood and dispel the last bit of gray cloud hanging over him. By the time he’d driven home to his one-bedroom apartment, made some dinner, and settled in for the night, he’d managed to put Ellis out of his mind.

  It wasn’t until the next morning, when he pulled into the Starbucks parking lot at 8:15 a.m. on the dot that Ellis came screeching back into his thoughts. Because he was standing right outside with his hands in his pockets, clearly waiting. And, judging by the way his face lit up when he spotted Logan, he was waiting for him.

  Logan froze in his seat. A second later, his fingers started to burn strangely. He looked down, only to realize he had the steering wheel in a vicious death grip. He released it and forced himself to get out of his car, moving stiffly like a badly oiled tin man.

  Once out, he hesitated, uncertain of what to do next. What the hell was Ellis doing here? He stared at him for a small eternity. Ellis seemed oblivious to his discomfiture. He waved and jogged over as if there was nothing unusual about this encounter at all.

  “Hey,” Ellis greeted him when he was close enough. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” Logan parroted. For a beat, he struggled with all the questions he wanted to ask. Ultimately, he blurted out, “I thought you said you never come here.” He winced. Way to play it smooth. “I mean, I overheard you say yesterday that you’re not a Starbucks guy. I wasn’t expecting to see you here again.”

  “I came to see you.” He smiled, and Logan’s stomach did that weird lurching thing again. “After you drove off yesterday, I realized I forgot to give you my number. I figured I’d catch you here.”

  “How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “You’ve always been a creature of habit. Way back when, you used to get coffee from the same place every morning no matter where your classes were.”

  “Oh yeah.” Logan rubbed his chin. “I used to haunt the Black and Brew. I’d totally forgotten about it.”

  Ellis’s lips twitched. “I didn’t. I figured you weren’t likely to outgrow a habit about habits, so here I am.” He looked over his shoulder at the Starbucks, which was even more packed than usual. “I bet the baristas in there have your order memorized.”

  “You’re not wrong. When I stick to an order, they learn it within a week or so. But I’ve changed it a bunch recently. I’ve been looking for the right combo to get me through my day.”

  “Not for nothing, but if you need a caffeine regimen to get through life, you’re in the wrong line of work.”

  Defensiveness flared up in Logan. He shoved it down and shrugged. “It’s not that. It takes the edge off the nicotine cravings.”

  “You quit smoking?”

  “Yeah, three months ago. You?”

  Ellis pulled something that looked like a short black pen out of his pocket. An e-cigarette, Logan realized. “Trying to. Cancer isn’t as cool as I thought it was when I was a teenager.”

  “Yeah, same.”

  An awkward silence draped itself over them like a wet cloth. Despite what he’d just said, Logan had never wanted a cigarette so badly in his life. All this stress was getting to him.

  “So, you’re probably going to your job again, huh?” Ellis asked.

  Logan nodded. “Yeah, they expect me to do that pretty regularly. You don’t have work?”

  “My hours are flexible.” He shifted his weight from one studded boot to the other before sticking out a hand. “Anyway, I wanted to give you this.”

  There was a piece of off-white paper folded between his fingers. Sketchbook paper? It was too thick to be copy paper.

  Logan stared at it. “Um.”

  “You’re supposed to take it,” Ellis supplied.

  “Right.” Logan did as instructed. Upon unfolding it, he discovered a phone number scrawled in a spiky, impatient hand. Panic lanced into him, but he did his best not to let it show. “Is this your number?”

  “No, it’s the number for a personal shopper. I’m hoping she can remind you of all the wonderful clothing options there are besides suits.”

  Logan stared at him.

  “I’m kidding, you walnut. I figured you wouldn’t have time to get coffee right now, what with work and all. This way, you can call me sometime, and we’ll arrange a date.”

  Logan felt a gray hair pop out of his scalp at the word date, but he forced himself to smile. “Great. I’ll give you a call sometime.”

  “Please do.” Ellis waved. “Talk to you soon.”

  He waltzed off. Logan watched him, waiting to see if he would head for a car, but he strode straight down the sidewalk and disappeared around a corner.

  Logan turned his attention back to the paper in his hand. Having Ellis’s number should have freaked him out, but instead it made him want to dance a jig. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect out. Ellis hadn’t asked for his number in return. Logan could just never call him, and then that would be the end of it! He was free.

  Well, assuming Ellis didn’t track him down again. But he wouldn’t do that, right? If Logan never called, Ellis would get the hint. And if he didn’t, Logan could easily start going to a different coffee shop. Brigantine wasn’t big enough to have a Starbucks on every corner, but he could—

  Will you listen to yourself? You’re talking about changing your entire morning routine to avoid one person. Someone you used to consider a friend. Stop being a drama queen.

  He jammed the paper into his pocket. This was a problem for a future version of him that had a lot more caffeine in his system.

  After securing his usual order—with two extra shots of espresso—he went to work and did his best to concentrate on the Murtagh file. There were still a few adjustments he needed to make.

  That lasted for all of five minutes, before he found himself fishing Ellis’s number out of his pocket. He smoothed it onto his desk and traced over the numbers with his index finger. Ellis had written them with what looked like a stick of charcoal. That was so like him. Even when performing ordinary tasks, he was unique.

  Logan bit his lip. He really shouldn’t call. Things would be so much simpler if he just balled this paper up and tossed it into the trash. He could forget he’d ever run into Ellis, put the whole thing behind him. But that seemed so . . . so . . .

  Petty. The word that had escaped him this whole time came blaring into his mind like a car horn during rush hour. He was being petty. Ellis had done nothing wrong to him. The guy just wanted to get a cup of coffee for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t his fault that he reminded Logan of a time in his life he’d rather forget. And here Logan was dodging him like he owed the guy money.

  Logan was an adult, damn it. He had a briefcase. Ellis had gone out of his way to be nice to him, even though Logan had been nothing but a jerk. The least Logan could do was drop him a line. For old times’ sake. He would set up a coffee date with Ellis, reminisce a bit, and then move on with his life guilt-free.

  Logan entered Ellis’s number into his contacts before he could chicken out. There was one small problem, however. He couldn’t call
Ellis while he was on the clock, and if he waited until tonight, or even lunchtime, he might talk himself out of it again. Plus, he hated talking on the phone. He only did it for business or when his sisters made him. It was one of those adulting things that still eluded him.

  A text, then. He would text Ellis and ask him out. Er. Ask him to coffee. Simple enough.

  He opened a new message and typed, Hey, it’s Logan. Now you have my number too. He finished it off with a smile emoji and hit Send.

  Three seconds later, he decided that was the worst text anyone had ever sent in the history of time. Why hadn’t he said something more original? Something friendlier? And why had he ended it with an emoji? Was he twelve?

  He was just about to devolve into a full-fledged literary analysis of those ten words when his phone vibrated in his hand.

  Hey. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Or at all.

  Logan’s heart leaped into his throat. Was he really so transparent? His shaky hands seemed to think so. He struggled to think of what to say back. An apology seemed safe enough.

  Sorry if I was weird earlier. And yesterday. And in general. I promise I’m reconsidering my caffeine intake. Speaking of which, let me make it up to you. Coffee? We can catch up?

  Ellis responded within seconds. Sure. When?

  Logan mulled over his schedule. If he set the date for later this week, he’d spend the whole time stressing about it. Better to get it over with as soon as possible. And if he made it a lunch date, he’d have a convenient excuse to duck out early.

  Are you free around lunchtime today?

  Logan jiggled his leg as he waited for a response. He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous: the idea that Ellis might reject him, or the idea that he might accept.

  A full minute crawled by before his phone buzzed on his desk.

  Sure, but if it’s all right with you, I’d rather not go to Starbucks again. Ever heard of a place called Café En Seine?

  Logan frowned at the unfamiliar name. Can’t say I have.