Convince yourself further, why don’t you?
The doorbell rang its weird, unsettling tones, and Gray showed up in the kitchen with a large box. Eddie covered for his nerves by babbling.
“Do you seriously work every day? I can’t believe the shop is open seven days a week. Don’t you get tired?” Why had he even bothered with silverware? Anyone who ate pizza with a knife and a fork was a pretentious asshole.
He stared at Gray while trying to hide his edginess about the stupid silverware placement, hoping Gray wasn’t an asshole.
“The shop’s only open for two months of the year,” Gray said as he picked up a slice and bit into it. “So yes, I work every day for two months, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas Day.”
“And then you have the rest of the year off?” Thank god. Not an asshole. Eddie did the math in his head. “Not a bad deal, I guess. Wait, you’re open after Christmas? Do people still come in?”
“I have a sale. Try to clear out all the crap I don’t think will be worth keeping around for the next season.”
Eddie was familiar with the principle. The last couple of days of a Ren faire often meant a fire sale on the goods. Some vendors packed everything up and moved on to the next faire, but there were always plenty of items it wasn’t worth the pain and effort of transporting. Especially breakable items. Eddie was used to seeing the trinkets he churned out on sale for pennies on the final days. He told himself it wasn’t his job to worry about their retail price, but it always stung a little.
Even a crap-making machine liked to think his work was worth more than a buck or two.
Old humiliations were easier to let go with a belly full of melted cheese and dough, however.
After dinner, he followed Gray to the back room, where the books on the shelves made him even happier. Gray grabbed a book from a side table and pushed himself deep into a corner of the couch as Eddie poked and prodded at the battered paperbacks on the shelves.
“You have Lucifer’s Hammer! And The Mote in God’s Eye. And Footfall. I couldn’t get that one for my Kindle. There’s no ebook version, can you believe that?”
Grayson ducked his head as if he were embarrassed, which should have been impossible because Eddie was practically vibrating with excitement.
“I have terrible taste in books, I know.”
“What?” Eddie’s head snapped up. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you even dare. This stuff is classic.”
Gray shook his head. “It’s so old-school, it’s embarrassing. Those books are full of such outdated crap.”
“Not Lucifer’s Hammer. The science on that asteroid is still pretty tight, I think.”
“Maybe. But the politics in that one. Ouch.”
“Whatever. Sometimes I just want to unwind with a good, old-fashioned alien invasion. Do you have Battlefield Earth?”
Mouth pursed like he’d bitten into something sour, Gray eyed him skeptically. “Please credit me with some taste.”
“Dude. That book is awesome. I mean, it’s ridiculous, but awesome. Jonnie Goodboy Tyler.”
Gray sat up straighter. “How do you know all of these books? I mean, my dad had them lying around the house so I found them early. Aren’t they pretty much before your time?”
Eddie shrugged. It was like anything else, movies, clothes, whatever. “I grew up in the system. We weren’t getting new releases. More like whatever crap somebody wanted to get rid of that they found in the back of their garage. Bestsellers from the seventies were my jam.”
“In the system? As in, in foster care?”
“I wish.” Eddie snorted. He wasn’t interested in going into the details. Everyone always assumed his childhood was terrible, and no amount of explaining that he didn’t have it any shittier than any other kid in the system got them to shut up about it. “I read more Robert Heinlein in junior high than was probably good for my brain.”
“I grok it.”
“You really are a total dork, aren’t you?” Eddie grinned and tugged a book off the shelf. “I’m telling you, you gotta read Battlefield Earth.”
“I’m not reading a book by the founder of Scientology.”
“I was into that for a while,” Eddie lied, because seeing the look on Gray’s face was worth it. Clamping his teeth together only kept the giggles at bay for a moment though. He burst out laughing, and Gray’s look of horror changed to one of disgust. “Dude. I love aliens. I don’t think I’m descended from one.”
“You suck.”
“Totally,” Eddie murmured.
Gray blushed.
Eddie hadn’t found any chinks in the wall Gray had erected between the two of them that first night. Which, hey, props for Gray being a stand-up guy who didn’t try to bang a dude when he was in shock. But shock faded.
Erected. Erection. Seriously, if I don’t get laid soon, the wordplay is gonna get ridiculous.
Might as well give it another try tonight. Eddie pulled another book down—he was totally going to find a copy of Battlefield Earth for Gray before he left—and kicked the couch to get Gray’s attention.
“Scoot over. And share that blanket.”
Before Gray could argue, Eddie wedged himself into the opposite corner of the none-too-large couch, the leather squeaking under his butt. He slid his feet across the middle cushion until they were braced against Gray’s thigh.
“Come on. Give it up.”
Without meeting Eddie’s gaze, cheeks still red, Gray tossed him the end of the blanket. Eddie yanked it up to his chest, until Gray jerked it back and they got into a tug-of-war that ended with the blanket stretched tight like a drum between them.
Gray’s exasperation finally escaped in a giant sigh accompanied by a dirty look at Eddie, who had pulled the blanket three inches toward himself once Gray let go. “You know, you could go get another blanket from the front room.”
There were several blankets in a basket by the fireplace in that room. Eddie kind of wished the fireplace were back in the library, but he wouldn’t trade the coziness of the one-couch situation for anything, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Nah. I wanna share this one.” Then he wiggled his toes under Gray’s thigh.
“Stop it. I’m trying to read here.”
“Me too. You’re the one hogging the blanket.”
Eddie read until he fell asleep, losing track of his vague plan to see if he could manipulate Gray into making a move on him. When he woke up to his alarm the next morning, he didn’t even remember going upstairs, with or without Gray. He did remember the weight of Gray’s thigh on his feet, the warmth and the silliness of pretending not to notice Gray was ticklish.
Reading was something Eddie had only ever done as a defense, as a way to remove himself from the world. He’d never imagined reading could be something he’d do with someone. Something to share.
Interesting.
Definitely worth staying awake for next time.
Watching Eddie work was magic.
Gray tried not to stare too obviously from the back of the store as Eddie wandered his way through the aisles, coming upon the middle-aged woman, who’d been browsing for ten minutes, right as she put an ornament back into its display basket with visible reluctance.
“Those are super cute. Reminds me of my dog I had when I was a kid.”
Gray was almost one hundred percent sure that Eddie had never had a pet of his own, ever, based on the few hints he’d given about his life so far.
“I really only need the one present for the office grab bag.” The woman held up a holiday box of scented candles, her free hand reaching out to pet the glass golden retriever in the basket. “But I was thinking I could send this to my cousin’s boy. He adores dogs. Or at least he did the last time I saw him.”
“That’s awesome. He’ll love it.” Eddie paused, then picked up a dachshund from the basket and smiling. “Maybe you’ll make a tradition of it, getting him one every year until he has the full set.”
Gray still caught himself ling
ering on Eddie’s smiles whenever one made an appearance. He’d been almost jealous at first to see how easily Eddie shared them with the customers, but he’d come to enjoy the idea that he was the only who got to see Eddie’s uncensored grumbles.
Happiness bloomed on the woman’s face at the idea. “That’d be fun, right?”
“It so would. He would end up trying to guess which one was coming next. You guys would totally bond over it.”
Gray was impressed. Eddie was going to get him three more years of return visits on one five-minute sales pitch. The man was damn good at selling.
“Of course . . .” Eddie drew the word out, frowning a little and twitching his nose. “I just started here. I don’t know if they have the same ornaments every year or if they change it up . . .”
No hard sell. No hitting her over the head with the potential flaw in the plan. Just easy, helpful Eddie.
After only one week, it was clear Eddie was a goddamned wizard.
She bit her lip, looking back down the aisle behind her to where ornaments were clustered around one of Gray’s mini display trees.
Gray knew what the customer was going to do before she did. But just in case she wasn’t persuaded, Eddie wasn’t done working his magic either.
“It’s funny. I’m so good at staying within my budget in other ways,” he said, leaning in close as if he were sharing a secret. “I only buy whatever fruit is in season at the market, and I always wait until the end of summer to buy my suit for the next year, but I’m the worst at self-restraint when it comes to presents. I figure it just adds a little more love to the world.”
As far as Gray could tell, Eddie didn’t even own a winter coat, and he’d be damn surprised to hear that Eddie went swimming in anything other than his skin and a sense of adventure. So the idea that Eddie shopped seasonal clothing sales . . . The tiniest twinge of discomfort tweaked his conscience at how easily the patter spilled from Eddie’s lips, bullshit flowing freely like Eddie could turn it off and on with the twist of a tap.
He’s harmless. You wish you could chat with the customers like that.
“If I get six, I’ve got Christmas covered until he hits high school,” the woman said decisively, snatching the retriever out of the basket.
“Advance planning. Makes the world go ’round,” Eddie said solemnly, passing her the basket he’d brought with him, of course, and set on the end of the counter before his approach. “You’re gonna be his favorite aunt ever.”
And so it went, all day, every day Eddie worked with him in the shop, waiting for his glass to arrive. Gray never saw Eddie pressure a single customer to buy something they didn’t want. He didn’t have to. He knew how to do something even more effective: he gave them permission to make the splurge they were trying to resist. He reminded them of family and their childhoods and how they wouldn’t have this chance again until next year, and who knew where they’d be then? Eddie, who sometimes didn’t speak for a solid hour or more in between the sparse daytime customers. Eddie, whose family seemed to be nonexistent and who Gray would be shocked to hear had a multitude of friends for whom he bought gifts, somehow managed to tap into those emotions so easily.
Gray wondered if it was wishful thinking on Eddie’s part, but that idea made his chest ache, so he stopped thinking about it.
Instead, he dropped by the bookstore on his Saturday lunch break. He hadn’t been able to forget what Eddie had said about only ever reading old, donated books when he was growing up. Because yes, Gray bought a lot of old-school books, but that was a choice, not what he was stuck with. He still walked out of the bookstore with whatever books he wanted without thinking about whether or not he could afford them.
Which was an insane kind of richness, if he thought about it.
When he found himself in the bookstore instead of the sandwich shop, Gray wasn’t even sure what book he wanted to buy for Eddie. He just knew he wanted it to be new. Not something old, not a book that was a hand-me-down of someone else’s interests, not something Gray wanted that Eddie might like too.
He wanted something Eddie, in book form.
In the end, he had to ask for help, which made him squirm with discomfort. Like he was making the clerk watch a homemade sex tape or something.
“I want something for my . . . friend.” Roommate? Guest? Temporary hire? None of the words felt right, but Gray was stung to realize he didn’t actually think Eddie would refer to him as a friend yet either. “He likes science fiction. And Renaissance faires. And pizza. And glass. Like, art glass. Not windows.”
That was a hella sketchy grasp of someone he was calling a friend. This girl was going to think he was an idiot.
But the young woman just smiled and waved at him to follow her to the beginning of the science fiction shelves.
“Well, you’ll have to bring the pizza, but I think I’ve got the perfect book for you. It’s only available in hardcover, because it just came out. Is that okay?” she asked as she pulled a volume off the shelf and handed it to him.
Gray read the blurb. And smiled.
“It’s perfect.”
“Arabella of Mars?” Eddie’s quirked eyebrows were things of beauty.
“It’s pirates. In space. In the Regency. Which is sort of close to the Renaissance, right?” Gray honestly had no idea.
“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie’s eyes were locked on the back cover copy. “So, I was gonna make this fake-it chicken curry thing, but . . .”
His voice trailed away as he opened the book and flipped to the first page of the story. Gray leaned back against the counter in the kitchen where he’d found Eddie after arriving home from the shop, pulling items from the refrigerator and lining them up on the counter.
“Curry can wait.”
Watching Eddie get sucked into his gift was way better than dinner that didn’t come from a can. Or a box.
“I’ll order a pizza.”
Eddie nodded vaguely, head down over the book as he shuffled toward the library couch. “Uh-huh.”
Gray’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “With anchovies.”
“Sure. Cool.”
Because he was almost positive Eddie couldn’t actually hear him, Gray let himself say the words that had been banging around in his head all afternoon. “It’s been a week since you started at the shop. Figured that deserved a thank-you.”
Present. A thank-you present. For your one-week anniversary at the shop. Because I’m too fucking sappy for words.
Eddie nodded, never looking up from the book.
After dinner—which Eddie ate with the new book in his lap, pretending he wasn’t glancing at the pages, until Gray told him to stop pretending and read—Gray did some of his own pretending.
He sat at the opposite end of the couch from Eddie and opened his own book, but barely made it through two pages in the same number of hours, and he couldn’t have told anyone what he read in any case. Watching Eddie devour his book was too seductive. He’d meant to get up off the couch when his eyes started getting scratchy with the need to sleep, but it was impossible to make himself. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for until it happened.
Eddie laughed out loud and looked up from his book guiltily, as if worried he’d disturbed someone, catching Gray’s stare on him.
A sweet smile and a nudge of warm toes against his thigh was everything Gray needed before Eddie dropped his gaze back to the book, speaking the words as if to the page.
“Thank you. This is the best, uh, one-week anniversary present I’ve ever gotten.”
Doing something nice for Eddie was damn addictive. Gray got annoyed every time he waved someone ahead of him in traffic and didn’t get a thank you! hand lift in return. In a world where people couldn’t even nod their appreciation for a kindness, Eddie’s simple appreciation, his gratitude, was a balm to the soul.
Gray kept trying to figure it out, why making Eddie happy made him so happy too. Maybe he had been lonelier than he thought? Which was an uncomfortable thou
ght, because Gray was pretty used to ignoring his loneliness. Acknowledging it felt like a slippery slope to regret and unhappiness and made the Scotch in the kitchen start calling his name again.
Or maybe Eddie was different? Somehow, in Gray’s head, being grateful or expressing thanks had gotten mixed up with vulnerability.
He was pretty sure he didn’t actually believe that. But still, it felt like some kind of bravery Gray lacked every time Eddie looked at him with appreciation and thanked him for what he swore was his new favorite book ever, or for pizza after a long day.
Gray found himself doing little things for Eddie whenever he could, and wondering if maybe he could learn something from Eddie after all.
In the meantime, Gray’s curiosity was starving. Eddie had been sleeping in his guest room for ten days now, coming to work in the shop every day for at least a few hours, making them both dinner or sharing takeout Gray ordered, and Gray knew next to nothing about Eddie. As someone who strongly encouraged other people to mind their own business and leave him alone, Gray wasn’t used to wanting to know anything about anybody. Let people have their privacy, damn it.
But the more time he spent around the generally taciturn Eddie, the more Gray wanted to pry information out of Eddie’s tight fist.
“Did I hear you call that little girl milady today?” Gray asked Sunday night after Eddie brought them both a nightcap on the couch as they read. They were in the living room in front of the fire instead of in the library. The temperature had dropped steeply after the sun set and a roaring fire had been as psychologically appealing as the warmth of a second glass of Scotch, with fewer lingering side effects the next morning.
Eddie cheeks pinked. “Yeah. Sorry. It slipped out.”
“Don’t be sorry. She was thrilled.”
“I’m just used to being in character when I’m working. I mean, mostly I get to sit with my torch, but I work the shop sometimes too. It’s part of the gig.”
“So you . . . what? Wear a costume? Pretend to be a knight?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “As if. The knights might as well be royalty. I’m just a lowly shop boy.”
Glass Tidings Page 8
