The Bookseller's Boyfriend

by Heidi Cullinan

Jacob gave Clark his most patient smile. “Just a bit of high spirits. Everyone is excited to meet our new celebrity, it seems.”

  Clark huffed at the very idea of celebrity. “I expect there will be something nasty written about it in the paper. You’ll be the downfall of this town one day, boy, with all your ways.”

  Jacob had no idea what those ways could possibly be, since all his friends gave him grief for being so analog, but he suspected this was his orientation again and so simply continued to smile.

  Matt also smiled as he took Jacob’s elbow. “So sorry, Mr. Clark. We’re on a mission to find Evan Clare. Enjoy the party.”

  But as soon as they were out of earshot, Matt muttered, “Old coot.”

  Jacob had to agree.

  They found Clare talking to several professors from the college, all men, so they were a sea of monotone suits and tuxedos. When the dean saw Jacob, however, he broke away and rushed over. “Oh good, you came.” He nodded to Matt. “Good to see you too. Having a good time?”

  “Of course.” Matt inclined his head to Jacob and stepped away. “I’ll catch you later.”

  Jacob didn’t want him to go, but he supposed his friend had his own mingling to do. Events like this were critical for a clothing store with the entire internet competing with it.

  Suppressing a sigh, Jacob turned back to Evan, but the dean was already dragging him away.

  “Larson said he gave you the details over the phone?”

  Jacob had to walk double-time to keep up. “Not really. The connection was bad.”

  “Oh. Well, honestly, I don’t understand much of it myself. All I know is we got a call from the agent asking if we could provide an escort for the evening, someone highly respectable and no-nonsense. We all thought of you right away.”

  There wasn’t any insult in anything Evan said, and yet Jacob felt an annoying prick along the top of his head. “I see.” Except, wait a minute, he didn’t see at all. “What do you mean, escort? What agent?”

  Evan cast a questioning look over his shoulder. “He really didn’t explain anything?”

  Jacob flushed. “It was an exceptionally bad connection.”

  “Well, thank you for coming anyway. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re so dependable.”

  This time the prick of annoyance manifested in Jacob’s cheeks as he sucked them against his teeth. “Would it be too much to ask what it is you want me to do?”

  “Oh, sure. One of our visiting professors needs to be kept out of trouble, is what it boils down to. Larson was supposed to ask you to be his date for the evening. He says we’d owe you a big favor.”

  At the word trouble, a low buzzing began in Jacob’s ears. It intensified as Evan led him around another group of suits and past a clutch of women in an eerily coordinated set of pastel gowns.

  No, the part of him that still craved the bubble bath whispered. No.

  But of course, as the crowd parted, there was Rasul Youssef in a stunning, vibrant floral jacquard tuxedo, standing in the center of a clutch of people, dark curls a riot around his bearded face and cast in a pleasant glow from the light positioned as an accidental spotlight above him.

  MR. ROGERS looked a hell of a lot better out of his cardigan.

  He was still pretty straitlaced in a somber gray suit and powder blue tie with soft geometrics, but the just-pressed look about him was a nice departure from the cardigan. He didn’t look happy, however, and Rasul was surprised at how intense his urge was to fix that. Of course, he wasn’t sure how much help he could be once his minder showed up. He still chafed at Elizabeth’s intervention and the tense phone call they’d exchanged over the teenage girls. Being assigned a date was his penance, though he’d done nothing wrong.

  Not this time, anyway. But if Elizabeth was going to retroactively punish him for everything he’d ever done, things were going to get grim fast.

  Gently extracting himself from the woman who’d attached herself to his left arm, Rasul came forward to meet Jacob with a grin. “Hello again. You’re a pleasant surprise.”

  It made him pause when, instead of melting into a demure expression, Jacob shuttered further and put up a thin I don’t want to be here smile.

  Dean Clare raised an eyebrow and glanced between Rasul and Jacob. “You two already know each other?”

  “You bet.” Rasul winked at Jacob, thrilled that this time he was rewarded with a blush, though he’d had enough champagne to make him want even more of a reaction. “He rescued me earlier today in more ways than one.”

  “Well.” Clare looked confused but also relieved. “That certainly makes this easier. Mr. Youssef, this is Jacob Moore, your escort for the evening. Jacob, this is Rasul Youssef, who apparently I have no need to make an introduction for.”

  Rasul straightened, his gaze darting from Jacob to the dean and back again. “Wait—you’re serious? Mr. Rogers is my babysitter?”

  “No, Mr. Moore,” Clare corrected, looking concerned. “I just said.”

  Jacob had flinched and seemed slightly hurt.

  Rasul rushed to fix it. “Sorry, complete slip of the tongue. Until I got your name when I signed your books, your sweater and sneakers reminded me of Mr. Rogers, and I guess the nickname stuck in my mind.”

  This explanation, however, only further irked Jacob. Clare, on the other hand, was apparently satisfied. The dean patted them both on the shoulder. “Well, you two boys have fun. Let me know if you need anything.”

  He left, and Rasul and Jacob were alone, or as alone as they could be in a room full of people watching their every move.

  A chill Hozier song played through the sound system, an offering from the bored DJ on the stage. Rasul was keenly aware of Jacob’s bad mood and his part in it, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it. His brain was still adjusting to the fact that the steadying influence Elizabeth requested turned out to be his charming bookseller who, equally surprising, looked hot in a mediocre suit. Well, hot was probably the wrong word. Fussy and delectable, that was closer to the mark.

  It helped that Rasul’s brain kept playing over and over that one moment where Jacob had shown a hot flare of passion, projecting it onto the shuttered individual striving not to meet his gaze.

  Time to fix whatever I broke here. Rasul made a grand bow. “I’m sorry, I seem to have upset you. Is it something I said, or are you this unhappy to be my minder?”

  “I’m not—” God, Rasul kind of dug how Jacob kept trying to button himself down and failing. “It’s a bit of a surprise, is all. I honestly wasn’t sure why they asked me to come.”

  Heavy subtext there made it clear Jacob would have preferred not to perform this role, and surprisingly, it seemed finding out his mission was Rasul hadn’t moved him much. Interesting. What was up with this guy? Suddenly Rasul had to know.

  “Well, thank you for making the time. You’re keeping me out of serious hot water with my agent for the second time today.” Rasul gestured to the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Jacob followed his gaze, his lips thinning into a line. “There are so many people looking at us.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll deflect them.” He grabbed Jacob’s hand.

  To his surprise, Jacob flinched and pulled away. Then he put on another plastic smile and looked near but not at Rasul. “Could I trouble you to get me a rum and Coke?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Rasul charmed his way through the line, though he kept glancing back at his date. Something had upset Jacob pretty intensely, and he had a bad feeling it was him. He wasn’t sure why. It felt bigger than the Mr. Rogers comment, but he was at a loss as to what else he’d done that was offensive.

  Had something else damning shown up online? He reached for his phone to check, felt the dull lump of the flip phone, and muttered under his breath.

  Armed with a pair of drinks, he wove his way back to Jacob, smiling and accepting compliments and well-wishes. A few women flirted openly with him, and though he instinctively reflected it back to th
em, he didn’t linger, too interested in his date. Just as he returned to him, however, the college president took the microphone at the front of the stage, welcoming everyone to the gala and cutting off Rasul’s charm offensive. So he studied Jacob, noting the way the man’s lips touched the glass Rasul had passed him, the manner in which his suit—remarkably well-fitted—shifted and glided with his movements. He was about to compliment Jacob on his tie when a rough and shaky voice shouting his name his name into a mic pulled his focus again.

  “—Youssef, internationally acclaimed author of The Sword Dancer’s Daughter and Carnivale, will be heading up an evening seminar at Bayview in the Creative Writing department for the duration of the school year.” Larson beamed, not noticing the winces from the crowd at the feedback coming from the mic. “Mr. Youssef will use the rest of the time here to finish his upcoming novel, Veil of Stars.”

  The crowd clapped enthusiastically, and Rasul smiled and waved back at them. When Larson moved on to the next new instructor, however, Rasul glanced at Jacob and saw he looked even more wooden than before.

  Seriously, what in the world had he done to the guy?

  Rasul wanted to interrogate him as soon as the president’s speech finished, but of course that was when the hordes descended, everyone and their pet rock coming up to welcome him to Copper Point and ask him a million questions. Normally he didn’t mind this, or at least understood it as part of his job, but he particularly resented it when all he wanted was to sit and talk with his date.

  Some of the people greeting him acknowledged Jacob, though, offering him a polite smile and greeting. “Good to see you, Jacob. How’s business?” He would always give the small smile and nod, telling them business was good, thank you. A few of them mentioned something about a hospital board, and another seemed to be nudging Jacob about some leadership position on the chamber of commerce. An older gentleman with an expression like he was some kind of 1880s schoolmarm pulled Jacob aside and said something to him that made Jacob return to Rasul’s side with a flat and thinly veiled annoyed expression.

  “Didn’t realize my escort was a celebrity,” Rasul murmured to Jacob. He’d meant the remark to be a bit of playful levity, but again, it seemed to upset Jacob more than anything else.

  Eventually he couldn’t take it, and with an apology to their admirers and a promise to be right back, he took Jacob’s hand and led him down a hallway marked with an Exit sign. When the darkened area revealed itself to be full of people waiting for the bathroom, he sighed and tugged Jacob out of a fire door and into the purple-orange light of the sunset. With the gray-blue of the bay behind him, he faced his date.

  Jacob hadn’t relaxed at all coming outside, and if anything he looked more apprehensive than ever. “Is something wrong?”

  “Funny, that’s what I was going to ask you.” Rasul rubbed at his beard, not sure how to phrase this. “Did… did I offend you in some way? If so, I’m sorry, but I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what I did, and I can’t come up with anything.”

  Alarm flashed across Jacob’s face before being buttoned back down. “I’m not offended by anything, no.”

  You are. Rasul studied him carefully, looking for a clue. “Did something get posted online?”

  Now Jacob seemed confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “A rumor about me. Did you hear something? Anything?”

  Why did everything Rasul say only fluster the man more? “I’m not on social media.”

  Rasul blinked. “No social media? Not even Facebook?”

  Jacob’s lips thinned as he shook his head. “I’d never used it much, but after Cambridge Analytica I closed my account.”

  Was this person real? “No Twitter? Tumblr? Snapchat? Pinterest?”

  “I don’t even know what most of those are. Twitter I know, but I’ve never had an account.”

  “Surely you at least have an Instagram.”

  He opened his mouth, then stopped, considering something. “I suppose technically the bookstore has an Instagram account, though it’s run by an employee. I don’t like it because it’s connected to Facebook, but I had to have it for some local event.”

  Rasul threw up his hands. “What in the world do you use your phone for?”

  Jacob appeared to be confused again. “Texting and phone calls?”

  Unable to take it anymore, Rasul sat on a short railing with his back to the bay. “Wow.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Jacob seemed annoyed. “Did you bring me out here to quiz me on my social media usage?”

  “No, I—” Rasul paused a moment to appreciate how much he’d messed this up. “I wanted to know why you were acting so weird around me so I could fix it.”

  “I’m not….” As he trailed off, Jacob’s shoulders rounded forward and his hands fell back to his side. “Very well. I’m probably a little awkward. But it’s not because you did anything to upset me.”

  “You’re sure it’s not something lousy about me online? Not even one of the news articles?”

  “No—I mean, yes, I’ve seen some articles, but they don’t upset me.”

  Liar. The gossip did upset him, Rasul could tell, but he could also tell that wasn’t the source of his date’s irritation. “Then why—?”

  Blushing, Jacob half turned away. “I don’t really want to talk about it, please.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “But what’s the reason you don’t want to talk about it?”

  Jacob pressed fingers to the side of his head as if he were warding off a headache.

  Part of Rasul was able to see he should leave the poor man alone. He owed him a lot, so at the very least he could pay the man back with silence. Except another part of him—the part that was still mad about the loss of his phone and really, really wanted to call Adina—that bit of him was desperate for something to soothe his ragged edges, wouldn’t let it go.

  As it had for the last few months, that part of him won. “I’m happy to apologize,” he said. “Generally or specifically.”

  Sighing, Jacob lowered his hand. He stood at the rail beside Rasul, put his hands in his pockets, and stared across the greenbelt at the bay beyond. “You have nothing to apologize for, and I’m not angry.”

  “But you are upset.”

  Jacob tipped his head back and stared up at the sky. Rasul shifted so he could study him. The guy really was cute, in a buttoned-up way. Not at all Rasul’s style. Not usually. But still cute.

  “Do you read Neil Gaiman?” Jacob asked at last.

  “Obviously. What does he have to do with this?”

  “He’s said on numerous occasions it’s best not to meet heroes, that even if they become good friends, they can’t be heroes any longer.” He extended an arm and picked at invisible lint in a meticulous way. “I think he’s a wise man, and he’s also a hero of mine, which is why I’ve gone out of my way never to meet him.”

  The puzzle pieces began to click into place. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me….” He stopped, uncharacteristically too shy to finish the thought.

  “Your novels and your early interviews have been a very important part of my life. Yes, you’re a bit of a hero to me.” Jacob folded his arms again, his cheeks staining red. “Fine, you’re quite a bit of a hero to me. I had fully intended to spend tonight processing the fact that you came into my bookshop, asked me for book recommendations, had a cup of my tea, then signed my original copies before escaping out my back door. Now I’m expected to behave normally while being your date at a city function. It’s a lot.”

  Many, many people had worked hard to flatter Rasul over the years, but nothing had ever affected him quite like this. For a moment he couldn’t reply, could only watch Jacob as his hair and the tails of his suit ruffled in the evening breeze.

  Eventually he said, “You sure played it cool at the bookshop, if that’s the case.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to look ridiculous.”
<
br />   He said it like it was a cardinal sin. “For the record, I think you’d look good ridiculous.”

  Jacob cast him a cool glance. “I thought I looked like Mr. Rogers.”

  Yep, that one had gotten under his skin. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s the navy blue sneakers. Well, and the cardigan. Plus you’re a little prim. You wear it well, though.” He winced as Jacob turned annoyed again. “Sorry. Probably your hero never said that.”

  “It’s fine.” Jacob sat beside Rasul and stared at the concrete patio in front of them. “I don’t have some delusion this is a real date or that someone like you would be interested in someone like me. I don’t want you to be interested. I just….”

  God, but it was weird how drawn Rasul was to this guy. Not sexually, not like he wanted to tear his clothes off, but… drawn all the same. He wanted to know what he’d said or done that had made him this guy’s hero, but in such a controlled, calm manner he could hold him at arm’s length. He wanted to know what about his work had drawn him in.

  He wanted to see another flare of visceral passion in this guy’s eyes.

  That he was Jacob’s hero, though…. He’d been told that before, but never like this. Never by somebody who seemed to know exactly what it meant.

  Probably he should settle down and try to respect this man a little more.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked at last. When Jacob shook his head, he pressed the issue. “I won’t be upset. I’m flattered as hell and sure I don’t deserve it, but I’m ready to honor your wishes.”

  “No.” Something about Jacob’s heavy sigh broke Rasul’s heart. “It’s fine.”

  “It sure doesn’t sound fine. I mean, I know I’ve already been a disappointment, but maybe we can put putty in the dam leak or something.”

  Jacob regarded him quizzically. “How in the world have you been a disappointment?”

  Rasul snorted and kicked at the pavement. “God, where do I start? How about with the fact that you were asked to babysit me?”

  “I was asked to escort you.”

  He should shut up and change the subject. “Yeah, because I’m in serious hot water with my agent.”