New Heights

by Quinn Anderson

  Somehow, just thinking about doing those things made him more bored, and if he left, he’d have to ask someone (James) to watch his stuff. Ugh. His attention span was bad enough already. He’d theorized before that he always showed up late because he hated having to wait. And yet, he’d ended up in a job that required frequent travel. What a clever move on his part.

  Maybe that’s the real reason I’m still single. I haven’t met anyone who can hold my attention for more than a few months.

  Though James had done a decent job of it since their first encounter a million hours earlier. Mika couldn’t stop thinking about him, even when he was furious with James. No, especially when he was furious with James. He’d never admit it out loud, but the coloring book stunt was actually kind of impressive. There were so few ways to prank someone in an airport without security intervening. James had found a damn good one.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mika studied the subject of his thoughts. James had his laptop open, as per usual, but Mika was certain he was only pretending to work. His eyes kept drifting above the top of the screen and glossing over, like he was lost in thought. Every now and then, he’d glance over at Mika and then jerk his head away. Mika would bet money that James’s thoughts were at least partially on the two of them.

  Not that Mika had much room to talk. It was funny how his own thoughts kept turning back to James like clockwork. And by funny, he meant terrifying. He’d reminded himself that James was a stranger a hundred times now, but his brain didn’t seem to care.

  At least they weren’t still fighting. For now. According to past precedent, the fragile peace between them could shatter at any moment. He might not know what he wanted to do for the next hour, but it definitely didn’t include another prank war with James.

  Make a move, then. You’re obviously not going to stop thinking about him anytime soon, so take some damn action.

  Mika studied James discreetly for a bit longer before twisting in his seat to face him. “So, Jamie, what are you working on?”

  To his surprise, James’s eyes narrowed. “Do not call me Jamie. I won’t answer to it.”

  Mika blinked at him. Damn, kitten’s got claws. Why do I find it weirdly attractive every time he does that? “Sorry. I sense somehow that I touched a nerve.”

  Contrition swept over James’s handsome face. “I . . . Wow, I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

  “Forget about it, James. After everything, I think I had that coming.” Mika gave him a once-over, not bothering to be subtle about it. They were past the point of formalities. “Why don’t you like to be called Jamie?”

  “Why don’t you like to be called Micah?”

  “Touché, although that’s not exactly the same thing. For real, is there a story behind that?”

  James shot him a skeptical look, one fine eyebrow creeping up toward his hairline.

  Mika rolled his eyes and gestured at the congested airport around them. “What, you got somewhere you need to be?”

  After a beat of silence, James nodded. “There are two reasons. Reason number one is something I discovered when I got a summer internship before grad school. It was my first time working with real adults. I mean, obviously I’m an adult, but they were adults, you know?”

  Mika nodded. “Yeah, I gotcha. Older adults. Adultier adults. Adults who know what escrow is and shit.”

  “Yeah. They liked to give the younger staff members nicknames, or so I learned. It wasn’t so bad at first. My boss started calling me Jamie, and while I hated that he did it in front of my peers, I thought it was a good sign. An endearment. But then the nickname mutated. It was like it’d been living in a nuclear reactor.”

  Mika chuckled. “What’d he call you?”

  “Everything under the sun. Jim, and then Jimmy, which became—the horror, the horror—Jimbo.”

  “No!” Mika covered his mouth. “Not Jimbo. Anything but Jimbo.”

  “My sentiments exactly. One guy even started calling me Jam, which turned into Jan somehow, and then I was Jan the Man to an entire department. It was ridiculous. So, I decided to never let that happen again. I’m James and James alone. Although, sometimes I tell certain people—usually people who are my superiors—that they’re allowed to call me Jamie. I make it seem like it’s this super-special privilege, and it engenders affection toward me.”

  “That’s both clever and manipulative. I’m very proud. What’s the other reason?”

  James opened and closed his mouth several times before looking down at the carpet. “On second thought, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, come on. You can’t leave me hanging.”

  James’s expression slammed shut like a vault door. He didn’t respond.

  Interesting. I should change the subject, for now.

  “You said you’re in grad school, right?” Mika asked. “What are you studying?”

  “Accounting.”

  “You wanna spend your life doing other people’s taxes?”

  “That’s not what accounting is.” James’s lips twitched. “Well, that’s not all of it. I’m studying to be an actuary.”

  “So, you’re going to be like the guy in Along Came Polly?”

  “I don’t know what that is, but sure.”

  Mika laughed. “Not a movie person, huh?”

  “Not really. I haven’t been to a theater in years. I don’t get out much.”

  “Me neither, actually. Except when work sends me on trips every other month.”

  James perked up. “What do you do?”

  “I’m in advertising. I work for one of those big evil corporations. I’m pretty sure they only hired me because I’m a millennial, and they think I have some magical insight into how to use memes to get young people to spend money.”

  “You don’t mean that. They must value you if they fly you all over the place.”

  Mika shrugged. “Maybe. I’m certainly not complaining. What brings you to New York, by the way?”

  “Buddy of mine from college got married, and I was his best man. I’ve hit that age where all my friends are getting married and settling down, and I have to watch from the sidelines.”

  “Don’t worry. In a few years—”

  James waved him off. “Yeah, I know. I’ll meet someone and be married myself by then.”

  “No, I was going to say, ‘half of your friends will be divorced.’”

  James’s mouth popped open, but then he snorted. “You’re evil.”

  “Well, you laughed, which means you’re evil too.”

  Their eyes locked. Mika could be imagining it, but he could feel something in the air between them. A charge, or a spark. And it wasn’t stemming from annoyance this time. It took Mika a moment to remember his original purpose for striking up a conversation. It seemed they weren’t in any danger of declaring another war, but now Mika had discovered a new problem: he liked talking to James.

  Judging by the easy smile on James’s face, the feeling could very well be mutual. That spelled out dangerous things, especially considering Mika had never doused the little torch he’d been carrying for him. Even when they’d been feuding. Even though he had no clue if James liked men. If he were smart, he’d slip his headphones back on and check out of this conversation before it went any further.

  How long has it been since someone held your attention like this? Has it ever happened?

  Mika’s headphones remained firmly around his neck as he cleared his throat and looked around. Unerringly, his eyes landed on the airport bar.

  Now there’s a way to pass the time. After the day I’ve had, I could use a drink.

  He climbed to his feet, unplugged his tablet, and checked the battery. It was half-full, which would provide him with a few solid hours of entertainment. That was good enough for him. He stuffed it and the charging cord into his bag.

  James seemed to notice him packing up and frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “To the bar.” He nodded in its dir
ection. “I figure, since there’s all this time to kill, why not kill it with my good friend tequila?”

  “Oh. Right.” James looked down at his shoes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

  Mika chest tightened with an emotion he didn’t want to name. He walked three steps down the aisle before he whirled around. “Well?”

  James looked up. “Well, what?”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  James’s eyes grew doe-like. “Coming . . .?”

  “To the bar with me.” Mika turned away. “Hurry up, or I won’t save you a seat.”

  The sound of James scrambling to his feet behind him was immensely satisfying. Chuckling, Mika kept walking, albeit much more slowly than before.

  Within seconds, James was at his side, clutching his bag to his chest like a shield. “So, are we—”

  “Don’t question it, pal. Let it happen.”

  “Ah, okay.” James took a few steps. “Just so you know, I’m not much of a drinker.”

  Mika gasped and slapped a hand to his cheek. “No! Someone as fun and easygoing as you doesn’t drink? I never would have guessed.”

  “Hey, I’m fun.”

  “Uh-huh. You put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral.’”

  James sniffed. “I was fun enough for you to invite along.”

  Damn. He’s got me there.

  It occurred to Mika, belatedly, that he’d asked James to get a drink with him. He hadn’t thought a thing of it, it’d seemed so natural.

  If you tilt your head and squint, this almost looks like a date.

  He shook his head. Better not go down that path until he had a beer in front of him.

  The bar was a small but well-stocked affair in the shape of a circle. There were tables all around it, but a number of people were sitting on black metal stools in front of the polished bar top. Two bartenders circled the impressive tier of bottles in the middle.

  Mika made a beeline for two empty stools. A table would be more private, but they’d have to get up every time they needed a refill, and Mika intended to knock back a few. The trick was, he had to do it in enough time to sober up before the plane boarded. If that ever happened.

  He took the left stool and situated his stuff at his feet before swiveling around. James was standing uncertainly next to the right stool.

  “You waiting on an invitation?” Mika batted his eyelashes at him and patted the seat.

  James turned the most delightful shade of red and sat down, his bag set primly in his lap.

  A blond woman in all black sauntered over and greeted them from behind the bar. “What’ll it be?”

  “Tequila, please,” Mika said. “With salt and a lemon wedge, please. Not lime. Oh, and a beer for after, whenever you get a chance.” He looked over at James.

  James was eyeing the display of bottles uncertainly. “I’ll take a . . . glass of wine?”

  Mika had to press his lips together to hold back a laugh. James sounded like he was asking for permission.

  “White or red?” asked the bartender.

  “Uh . . . white?”

  A snicker escaped from Mika. “She’s asking you, James. Not the other way around.”

  James shot him a sour look. “White. Please.”

  The bartender moved away to get their order.

  James watched her go and then turned to Mika. “I told you. I don’t drink all that often.”

  “From that exchange, I’d guess you don’t interact with humans all that often.”

  “If you’re just going to make fun of me, then I don’t need to be here.” James made like he was going to stand up.

  “Wait, I didn’t mean it!” Mika grabbed his shoulder. “I was teasing. I’m sorry.”

  James cocked his head to the side and scrunched his nose. “Pardon?”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  A smile crawled across James’s face. “I still can’t hear you. One more time.”

  Mika rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? Want me to sky-write it?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” James settled back into his seat.

  The bartender appeared, plunked drinks and accouterments down in front of them, and flashed a cheerful smile. “You gentlemen want to start a tab?”

  Before Mika could answer, James pulled a wallet out of his back pocket. “I got it.” He handed the bartender a bill. “Keep it.”

  She thanked him and disappeared again.

  Mika glanced at James. “What was that for?”

  “You bought me lunch.” James shrugged, eyes glued to the surface of the bar. “I thought I’d return the favor.”

  “Thank you.” Mika sprinkled some salt on his hand and held up his shot. “To delayed flights.”

  James picked up his wine and clinked it against Mika’s shot glass. “To strange meetings in stranger places.”

  Mika did his shot—salt and lemon and all—and set the glass down before reaching for his beer. “Oof. That’s the stuff. Tastes like college.”

  “I take it you were a partier?”

  “Oh, I was the party. People would invite me instead of booking DJs. I had a reputation for telling good stories, and if you got enough drinks in me, I’d do anything you suggested to me. Which led to me doing such intelligent things as streaking down University Avenue and jumping off a roof into the neighbor’s pool.”

  James looked both amused and horrified. “How’d that turn out for you?”

  Reaching down, Mika pulled up the left leg of his jeans. There was a white, jagged scar running from his ankle to midcalf. “A hairline fracture. Twenty-seven stitches, and I had to wear a cast for a month.”

  James winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. But it was worth it. I was a legend.” He took a swig of his beer. “You said you’re still in school, right?”

  “Yeah. This is my last year. I graduate in May.”

  “You nervous?”

  “Of course, but to be fair, that’s my default state of being.”

  Mika laughed. “You’re funny. I never would have guessed.”

  James started to smile, but then the corners of his lips dropped. “What’s your deal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t figure you out. You act like a total ass, but then you want to get a drink with me. You say nice things, but then you toss in a quip at the end. It’s like you want to be a cool guy, but you’re afraid someone will notice, so you pretend to be a jerk.”

  “I’m not always a jerk.” Mika waggled his eyebrows. “Every now and then, if you catch me at the right time, I can be a total dick.”

  “Very funny. Seriously, are you always this hot and cold?”

  Mika picked at the label on his beer. “I don’t know. Maybe. To be honest, I don’t mean to be. Not always, anyway.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Yeah, sure. Lemme tell you my whole sob story.” Mika scoffed. “No, thanks.”

  “That”—James jabbed a finger at him—“is exactly what I’m referring to. But if you don’t want to talk, fine. We can sit here in stony silence, or we can go back to torturing each other over outlets. It makes no difference to me.” James faced forward in his seat and took a pointed sip of wine.

  Mika studied his profile. He says that, but he clearly cares. Why? No matter how much I push him away, he keeps pushing back. It doesn’t make any sense.

  With a sigh, Mika reached out and touched James’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I get a little defensive sometimes, if you can’t tell.”

  “Why though?” James set his wine down and swiveled back toward him. “And while we’re at it, why were you so rude to me when we first met? I’d never done anything to you.”

  It took Mika two tries before he could work up the spit to say, “Sometimes I think I was born a smart-ass, and sometimes I think I became one. Part of it’s the name thing. I’ve been getting the same comments from people my whole life. I was bound to develop some snarky responses. My friends and I joke about Odd Name Problem
s. You should go to Starbucks with my sister Yvelisse sometime. I could watch the baristas butcher that for hours.”

  “I’ll bet.” James looked thoughtful. “I suppose I can’t relate, considering my name is James Thompson.”

  “There’s more to it than that. I was raised by a single mom, and we didn’t have much. I learned from a young age that you can’t rely on the kindness of strangers. People tried to push me around all the time, so I learned to push back. It made me motivated, but it also made me . . . well, you know.”

  James smiled. “A dick?”

  “Yeah. And it sure as hell didn’t make me any friends. I got into a lot of fights with the kids at school. Never physical fights—I was small for my age—but word fights were my specialty. I had a comeback for everything. Guess it carried into adulthood.”

  “Hm. Well, I don’t think that’s a good excuse, but I guess it’s a reason. So, you’re saying what happened between us wasn’t personal?”

  “Uh, not really?” Mika shrugged. “I mean, the second I saw you, I thought, I could throw hot coffee in this guy’s face, and he wouldn’t say shit to me. But no, I wouldn’t call it personal. Though I might’ve been a little harsh toward you as a result.”

  James gave him a wry look. “Just a little.”

  Mika took a long drink from his beer, feeling strangely exposed. “Congratulations. You unlocked my backstory. I hope it was everything you imagined it would be.”

  “Not really.” James smiled. “I was expecting a much better justification.”

  Mika made a sour face. “Don’t you mock my traumatic childhood.”

  “Dude, everyone gets picked on. Everyone gets mistreated. But not everyone turns around and does the same thing to other people. If you were hoping I was going to instantly forgive you, then you’re going to be disappointed. If this friendship is going to work, you’re gonna have to do some good old-fashioned groveling.”

  Mika laughed. “That’s adorable. You keep wishing on that star, sweetheart. Besides, who said anything about being friends?”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but the second the words were out of his mouth, they took on a different meaning. James quieted at the same moment he did, and the silence was loaded. That same charge from before was back, electricity that made the air between them buzz. Had it been there the whole time? Was that why they’d reacted to each other the way they had? Why they kept getting drawn together?