Hesitant Hearts

by Jerry Cole

  “Nice to know, Tash, thanks.”

  “Don’t call me Tash,” Natasha said immediately, but she softened the bite with a smile. “You can make it up to me by coming out to dinner tomorrow.”

  Patrick stared at her. “Okay first, I have to make it up to you for being nice to me? Also, this isn’t going to be another Isaac, right? Isaac might have something to say about it, even if it has only been one date.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “No, Patrick, this isn’t another Isaac. It’s dinner with me, obviously, and I promise hands will remain above the table at all times.”

  “Good,” Patrick said, wisely not bringing up the fact that she’d ignored the first question. “I might be busy.”

  “You won’t be,” Natasha assured him, squeezing his arm and heading for the door. “I’ll catch you later, Eddie, Rebecca. Tomorrow, Patrick.”

  There was a vague goodbye from the bathroom, and Patrick swung around to see a look of disappointment on Rebecca’s face and he sighed.

  “I love you, Bec, but I know what I’m doing. I might be a mess most of the time, but I would never run this company into the ground. You know what it means to me.”

  Rebecca still looked disappointed, but she sighed and drew him into a quick hug. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just frustrating sometimes because I think you don’t care.”

  “Of course I do,” Patrick said, pressing his forehead to hers. “We didn’t work out away from work, but I want it to work for the company. You have to know that.”

  Letting out a watery laugh, Rebecca stepped back, and Patrick wondered if they should have had this talk sooner. He had hoped things between them would stay the same, and for the most part they had, but now that he was aware it was there, he could see that Rebecca had kept a partial distance.

  “Are you two done being gross?” Eddie called. “My shoes are in there.”

  Patrick snorted and Rebecca yelled that she was fine, pulling her hair into a ponytail and tying it off with a band she produced out of nowhere – like Natasha, she was always doing things like that. Maybe women’s clothing was blessed with many small pockets for things like hair ties and phones, but he doubted it. Maybe that should be something he should look into. Except he worked with technology and not fashion.

  Shaking his head, wondering if he needed to sleep off whatever funk had taken over his brain lately, he tracked Eddie’s progress across the living room, and the look he and Rebecca shared, probably at Patrick’s expense.

  “How’s Isaac?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Patrick said, desperately wanting to give Eddie the finger. “I haven’t had time to text him yet. My friends won’t leave my apartment.”

  Rebecca ducked her head, smiling, and bent down to kiss Patrick’s cheek. “Work tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” Patrick said easily, splaying himself across the couch just because he could.

  “Have fun with Natasha at dinner,” Eddie said, lips quirking up into a smile. “I’m meeting Sam tomorrow. We have a charity thing.”

  Eddie always called them charity things like Patrick didn’t know the work he put into them. He was willing to leave it alone as long as Eddie wanted him to.

  When both Eddie and Rebecca had left, the door slamming behind them – and one day, his friends were going to close it quietly – Patrick had time to bring up Isaac’s messages, surprised when one was waiting for him.

  Isaac: NATASHA WILL KILL YOU FOR SENDING ME THAT. EDDIE LOOKS CUTE ASLEEP. SAM AGREES.

  Patrick scowled. He hadn’t realized Isaac had company the night before but then again, he hadn’t asked and Isaac wasn’t his to own. Snap out of it, Wright, he told himself, and typed out a quick response.

  Patrick: Wait, your Sam is Eddie’s Sam??????

  Isaac’s reply was almost instantaneous, the three little dots appearing and then a message popped up just as quickly.

  Isaac: LOL PATRICK SERIOUSLY?

  Patrick: What? I don’t know every Sam in New York, Isaac!

  When no reply was forthcoming for a while, Patrick tugged his laptop out from under the couch and booted it up. He’d promised Rebecca he was going to work from home and that involved opening something, code or whatever for the new tech. Not that Rebecca would know, but Patrick would know.

  His phone vibrated against his thigh and he stared down, laughing at Isaac’s reply.

  Isaac: FOR A GENIUS, YOU’RE PRETTY DUMB, WRIGHT. WE SHOULD MEET UP SOON.

  Patrick: Yeah, we should. For food! It seemed to work for us last time.

  Isaac: IT HELPED THAT WE HAVE A PLAN.

  Patrick: A plan. Right.

  Chapter Seven

  Their plan could go to hell.

  Patrick was crammed onto Isaac’s small couch, in his small apartment, and watching a movie he couldn’t care less about on Isaac’s small television. Instead of making Patrick want to drive back to his apartment and introduce Isaac to his apartment, couch and TV, he liked Isaac’s, well, everything.

  “Is the food all right?” Isaac asked.

  He’d been asking a variation of ‘is _ all right’ the entire night and if Patrick wasn’t so damn charmed, he’d be mocking the hell out of Isaac for it. They were, after all, only faking it.

  “It’s fine, Isaac. Like the drinks and the couch and the apartment and–”

  Isaac’s hand landed over his mouth, and Patrick grinned behind it, as Isaac rolled his eyes. “I get the point.”

  Patrick shrugged and looked mournfully down at his food until Isaac huffed a laugh, dropping his hand back to his lap. Isaac had cooked some variation of pasta that Patrick hadn’t tasted since his mom was alive, and God, he was a good cook. Patrick hoped Isaac had at least some flaws, otherwise he’d start thinking of him as like, perfect mate material and he’d be truly fucked.

  Not that he wasn’t already, but semantics.

  “You know,” Isaac said, relaxing back into the couch for what had to be the first time since Patrick crossed the threshold. “We could almost be friends shooting the breeze.”

  “First off, nobody says shooting the breeze unironically, Isaac,” Patrick pointed out. “Second, that is exactly what we are, right?”

  “Sure,” Isaac said easily, and the small smile on his face shot straight to Patrick’s chest. Great. Just what he needed. An attraction to Isaac’s smiles. “Natasha wants me to drag you to one of our nights out. She wants you to meet Sven.”

  “I think I have,” Patrick said slowly. He could remember Natasha coming into the company building with a giant of a man, all blond and muscled, who’d claimed to be on a work visa. Patrick hadn’t cared as long as he’d been able to work, but Natasha had snapped him up for her own and Patrick hadn’t seen him since. “From Yugoslavia or somewhere.”

  “Yugoslavia isn’t a country anymore, Patrick,” Isaac pointed out and whatever, Patrick was an engineer, not a geography teacher. “Just because someone’s from Europe, doesn’t mean they’re all the same.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes. “Obviously I know that. About Europe, not Yugoslavia, but thank you for the lesson, Isaac.”

  Isaac grinned, unrepentant in the face of Patrick’s sarcasm and god help him, Patrick was attracted to it. He had a thing for assholes, clearly. “You’re welcome. He’s Scandinavian.”

  Same difference was on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, but he managed to keep from saying it. He nudged Isaac’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll have to tag along. Have to get this rolling, right?” He asked, gesturing between them.

  Something about Isaac’s expression was brittle, but soft and the juxtaposition made Patrick uncomfortable though he didn’t know why. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and when Patrick had polished off the rest of the pasta – bugging Isaac for seconds – and collapsed back on the couch, he was content to stay that way. Maybe he wouldn’t even go home again, though he couldn’t just invite himself to sleep over when he hadn’t even run it by Isaac.

  “You could stay,” Isaac offered, almost as if he’d
been thinking the same thing.

  Patrick smiled turning to face him. “If you don’t mind me taking over your couch.”

  Isaac looked vaguely horrified, and Patrick didn’t know why until Isaac blurted, “I can’t let you sleep on the couch!”

  “Isaac,” Patrick said slowly. “I’ve slept in the open air because Eddie thought it would build character. He makes me sleep on the couch all the time. I promise, one night on this heavenly thing isn’t going to break my back.”

  “I guess,” Isaac said reluctantly.

  Patrick shifted, facing Isaac as best he was able, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table the soles of Isaac’s feet were currently digging into. “Maybe you’ll feel less bad about it when you realize I kick – hard – and I tend to have nightmares.”

  Isaac wisely didn’t ask what they were about, and Patrick was grateful. He’d had a few friends who wouldn’t leave it alone, so he’d abandoned them quickly. “I know what that’s like.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Patrick also didn’t ask, which had Isaac smirking.

  “I was an army brat. Joined up myself until I was discharged. Injury,” Isaac added when Patrick didn’t ask, but couldn’t help but tilt his head in curiosity.

  “Thanks for telling me,” Patrick said awkwardly. “I’m an orphan.”

  “Jesus,” Isaac said, looking shocked. “That’s – Patrick, I don’t even know what to say.”

  Patrick ducked his head, feeling like a dick. “Sorry, that was cruel. I was flippant.”

  “It’s fine,” Isaac said, strained. He still looked shocked, but he was doing a good job of covering it up. “I’m sorry.”

  Waving him off, Patrick actually managed a normal smile. Sometimes when he thought about it, it would hurt, like a fresh wound. Most of the time it was a dull ache, one that he was able to get over quickly when he remembered just how shitty his parents had been. “They’ve been dead almost two decades,” Patrick admitted, and he could see Isaac working out the time frame, figuring out just how old Patrick must have been and watched his eyes soften. Even with Patrick being a dick, he was still a good person.

  It was definitely going to blow up in Patrick’s face at some point, but he desperately hoped that it wouldn’t.

  “That doesn’t make it any easier to handle,” Isaac said, throwing an arm over Patrick’s shoulder. It was comforting, and Patrick had to fight not to lean into Isaac completely. They were faking. It wasn’t like that. “My dad died when I was a kid, five or something. I don’t remember him, but he was killed overseas. Think he only met me a handful of times.”

  That had to have been hard, and it was Patrick’s turn to flounder for something to say. He patted Isaac’s thigh, thinking about how weird this was. It didn’t make sense for them to fake, right? They could actually date for real? Their friends were already being smug, so why shouldn’t Patrick reap the rewards from being subjected to it time and again?

  Isaac was talking, saying something about switching the movie, and Patrick pulled away to watch him. He took in the slope of Isaac’s shoulder, appreciative of the cut of his body, the curve of his smile when he caught Patrick looking and rolled his eyes.

  “Stop it,” he groused. “You don’t have to keep playing.”

  “I’m not,” Patrick offered, testing the waters.

  Isaac looked momentarily shocked, something shifting over his face that Patrick couldn’t explain. “We’re faking.”

  Patrick shrugged easily. “We don’t have to be though.”

  It was an offer as much as it wasn’t, and Patrick told himself he wasn’t disappointed when Isaac didn’t say anything for a long while. He did sit back on the couch, as close to Patrick as he’d been before, so that was something. Still, Patrick couldn’t help but dart glances at Isaac during the movie, wondering what was going through his head and whether he’d take Patrick up on his offer or ignore it completely.

  “You were being serious,” Isaac asked, pausing the movie and staring at Patrick.

  “If you’re not interested,” Patrick hedged, but Isaac just raised an eyebrow, waiting him out. Patrick dropped his eyes to his knees, playing with a stray thread on his jeans. It would ruin them but staring up at Isaac was out of the question. “You’re a catch, Carter, and guys like you don’t usually go for guys like me.”

  “You’re a catch,” Isaac said, almost offended at someone not wanting him. Patrick snorted, amused and warmed and God, he had to stop having feelings immediately.

  “So?”

  “We could try,” Isaac said, beaming. “Though I still think our plan to have a public breakdown will work out.”

  Patrick pretended to think about it, and then flopped back, sprawled over Isaac more than he had been before, and relished the arm Isaac threw over his shoulders. Sure, they’d only met twice, and known each other for a cumulative count of six hours, but that was something, right?

  Nothing could go wrong.

  Heh.

  Chapter Eight

  Sven was as much of a giant as Patrick remembered. He was quiet, eyes tracking most of the things in the room, and tended to talk only when he had something profound to say. Patrick felt like he was in a movie where Sven was the voice of reason and they had to wait for him to impart his advice.

  “Are you drunk?” Isaac asked, when Patrick told him this.

  “I’ve had like, two beers” Patrick said, waving a hand and almost smacking Natasha in the face. Gary was sitting across from him, smirking too hard for a man who’d teamed up with the rest of their asshole friends. “And you, Gary. You have nothing to be pleased about.”

  Gary shrugged easily, downing his beer in one go and that wasn’t fair either. Patrick didn’t think he’d ever seen Gary hungover, which was impossible and also outrageous. Gary rolled his eyes. “You only get hungover because you lose count of how much you’ve drunk. You’ve already had four, Patrick.”

  “Oh,” Patrick said, deliberately not looking at Isaac. What if he thought Patrick was an alcoholic? Patrick thought Patrick was an alcoholic. When he risked a look, Isaac was trying to convince Sven and Natasha to ask the DJ to change the music. Apparently, Isaac wanted some 90s band that Patrick had spent his youth trying to pretend hadn’t existed and now Isaac was betraying him. “Isaac, that is terrible music.”

  “Hey,” Isaac protested, but didn’t look too put out when Natasha and Sven laughed. The latter threw an arm over Patrick’s shoulders.

  “I like you, Patrick.”

  “Oh God,” Patrick said.

  “Patrick,” Sven repeated, slapping Patrick’s chest with his free hand. Patrick was going to be black and blue by the time he crawled into bed that night, he could tell.

  Isaac leaned across to grab some of the peanuts in a nondescript bowl in the middle of the table. Why peanuts? Patrick was used to chips. Those he could understand, but peanuts? Maybe the owners were British. Isaac had really nice arms.

  “Thank you,” Isaac said, flushing. Natasha hid a smile behind her hand and Isaac flipped her off. “Maybe I like that shit, Romanova.”

  “I call her that,” Patrick said.

  Isaac smiled again, a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks and Patrick was fascinated. “We should make a move soon, shouldn’t we?”

  Patrick was having fun. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for drinks and not had Rebecca or Eddie backing him up. It was nice, and he enjoyed their mish-mash group of friends. The only one who had yet to show their face and find out that Isaac and Patrick were apparently a thing now, was Jake. Not that Patrick was concerned about that. Jake was a dick and would probably take the smallest thing and blow it out of proportion. It was the only lament Patrick had about their relationship not being fake. Jake’s face when they broke up would have been perfect.

  “Patrick,” Isaac said, in the manner of someone who had to say it several times.

  “Oops,” Patrick said. “Was thinking.”

  “About?” Natasha asked, her tongue literally i
n her cheek.

  Patrick narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not telling you a thing. You’ll only tell Rebecca and she’ll use it to strongarm me into doing all sorts of things.”

  Natasha looked more amused by that then she should have. “Were you thinking dirty things about Isaac?”

  “Natasha!” Isaac snapped, looking scandalized. It was the funniest expression Patrick had ever seen on Isaac’s face and he laughed, tipping his head back against the booth. It took him a moment to realize that Isaac was staring at him, eyes wide and dark, and fuck, Patrick had been deliberately not thinking about having sex with Isaac, and now it was all he could think about.

  Not that he wanted to ruin it by having sex too early or something, because it was Isaac, and Patrick was kinda hoping Isaac wouldn’t be just another person he managed to chase away.

  “Nothing dirty,” Patrick promised. “I am definitely too drunk for that.”

  “Finally, he admits it,” Gary breathed, sharing a commiserating look with Sven. “You wanna get out of here, big guy?”

  “For more refreshments? Or for dirty things?” Sven asked, grinning between Isaac and Patrick.

  “For the love of God,” Isaac muttered, and Patrick felt it was only fair to kiss his cheek sloppily. For solidarity. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Natasha shifted out of the booth to let Sven out, who seemed only too happy to haul Gary out of his seat like he weighed no more than a glass.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Patrick,” Sven said, and when Patrick opened his mouth, he caught the glint in Sven’s eye. The asshole. “I hope you’ll come out for drinks again.”

  “Sure,” Patrick said, waving a hand in Sven’s direction, but refusing to move from the comfort of Isaac’s arm. His muscles were like pillows.