You May Have Met Him

by Sebastian Carter

  “Impressive,” Elliot said.

  “Hardly.” She flipped open her phone screen to check a message, then put it back into her bag. “The man spent an hour talking about a ski weekend in the French Alps, and when I tried to steer our conversation back to advertising budgets, he would ask me a question about my family. I’ve had more pointed conversations with toddlers.” She laughed like a crystal bell as they exited her office. “I think I earned this cocktail night.”

  In the elevator, she faced the mirrored back wall and checked her hair and make-up on the way down. Elliot smoothed his shirt beneath his sport jacket that was probably too warm for the humid Chicago air.

  She turned her attention to him through the mirror like a thought struck her. “You’re interviewing on Monday, right?”

  The head of IT left the firm and took a new job at Apple or something like that, and that left the position open. “Yeah.” The thought of the interview made his palms sweat, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “At eleven in the morning on Monday,” he said.

  Brianna finished with her lipstick, and she put the tube back in her purse. She turned to him. “You’ve got it in the bag. This is a formality, I’m sure.”

  “You know how I am at these things,” he said. He tried his best to keep his nerves under wraps, but he worried that he was failing. The way she looked at him confirmed that fact.

  “Be yourself, Ell. It’s your best asset.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me when I tell you this: You are made for that job. You’ll do fantastic.” She faced forward as the elevator came to rest on the lobby level of the building. “And I may have sent a letter of recommendation down for you.”

  Elliot flushed. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know, but I wanted to. Otherwise, what else am I good for?”

  Elliot was still blushing, but he was smiling too.

  They walked out into the Chicago evening. It was going on six, and the traffic was still in full press in the Loop. It would be this way for the next couple of hours at least. Rush hour in Chicago lasted for at least four hours a day. It was only between the hours of five and six that the traffic moved from a constant push to a breaking point where the streets locked into parking-lot mode. By now, the traffic was just gaining momentum again and moving at a more regulated pace. He and Brianna walked. The place she’d chosen for them to go wasn’t far. Only a block away from their office building.

  When they reached the entrance to the lounge, a host held the doors open as they walked in, and another led the way to a reserved table through a rather crowded room. Young professionals, guys in suits still wearing their coats, and women dressed in skirts and designer blouses. Against them, he felt inadequate, the suit he wore purchased at a discount department store, the shirt slightly wrinkled. His shoes screamed Payless. The people here were executives who probably had offices with sweeping downtown views. He was an IT guy who worked in the basement, a guy who could unravel at any second if forced to endure the presence of so many people who seemed to naturally belong in a place where he had no business.

  And he was skinny. The men here looked the type to spend days in the gym. They probably had actual workout schedules that they stuck to, reminders on their cell phone calendars, Go to the gym, for which they would drop everything, their pens and their executive file folders, and rush off to a place with an aroma of sweat and masculinity, carrying a bag full of workout clothes that smelled much the same. Even the fat guys appeared fit as their big hands clasped glasses full of dark liquids. They weren’t slovenly. They could toss logs in a lumberjack contest on the weekends. Elliot stuck close to Brianna as if she might provide him some needed justification for his being there.

  The host took them to a table in the center of the room that did absolutely nothing for Elliot’s confidence. He would have preferred a table along the wall, maybe in a corner. Out here, he felt on stage with everyone eying them both. Their eyes lingered and stuck on Brianna. Or maybe they were judging him for being there with her. Their stares felt like scrutiny. He hung his head low so as to not draw too much attention to himself. If he could pick a superpower, it would be invisibility.

  As soon as they sat, a waiter took their order as if he’d been waiting anxiously for them to arrive. He was cute, tall with dark hair, and he even gave Elliot a smile that caused him to talk down to the table and not make eye contact while he ordered. Then they were left alone. Only, Elliot was all too aware that they were not alone, that they were, in fact, the furthest from alone, sitting in the center of this bar surrounded by all these people who seemed so at home in this crowded space. That realization only made Elliot feel even more alien.

  They said little until the waiter brought their drinks. Brianna checked her phone and tapped out a message to someone.

  “You’re doing it again.” Brianna looked at him over a glass of white wine she held artfully by the stem so that the golden liquid caught the light from the bar and twinkled as the wine swirled in the bell of the glass.

  Elliot blushed, and his eyes grew wide. “Doing what?”

  She let a small side smile creep onto her rouged lips. “You’re clamming up. I can see the beads of sweat on your forehead. Stop it.”

  If only it were that easy.

  But Brianna seemed to sense this, and she reached across the table and patted his hand. “Relax, Ell. They’re people winding down from a long day at work. Like us. Nobody here will bite you.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “Not unless you want them to.” She shot him a wink and sipped her wine.

  Elliot tried to laugh and play it off. “I’m fine.” He took a drink of his beer—he ordered a Chicago microbrew. He wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker of any kind, but he made an exception when he went out with Brianna. And usually by the end of the evening, he was mildly more relaxed.

  She laughed. “Really?” She picked up a cloth napkin and wiped the top of his lip, and she showed him the napkin with a healthy dose of beer suds.

  “I would’ve gotten it,” Elliot said. His face felt like it was on fire.

  She sighed. “You’re too cute,” she said. Her phone chirped a message, and she checked the screen. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door before looking at him once again. “We used to spend a lot more time together.”

  “We were college kids back then,” Elliot said. “We had all the time in the world.”

  “And you have plenty of time after you get off work. But you go play your game.”

  Elliot took a sip of his beer, and he winced. “You played that game for a short while too, in case you forgot.”

  She put her wine glass down and shrugged. “I did. And I can’t say it was a bad game.”

  “You had fun.”

  “Okay. You got me.” She put her long fingers on the base of her glass and swirled the wine around so it danced. She told him once that it let the wine breathe. “I can be a nerd when I want to be.”

  “That’s why we get along, Brie.”

  “It is.” The she leaned in closer. “I’m even thinking of going to Comic-Con this year.”

  Elliot’s eyes widened. “For real?”

  “Yes.” She grinned wide. “I miss it, Ell. I do. Now that I’m working, daddy always has me doing crap for him, and I can’t cut up like I used to.” This was the Brianna that Elliot missed, the one he was glad to see now.

  “You should play again. I still have a second account on Beasts of War. You could always come back for a raid sometime if you want.”

  She studied him with a squint and a grin. “Maybe I will. But you won’t cry when I beat you in damage done, will you?”

  Elliot rolled his eyes. “Please. You can try. I play a rogue, remember? They’re hard to beat.”

  “I used to give you quite the run for your gold, as you might recall, and I played a priest.”

  Elliot laughed.

  When her phone chirped with another message, she checked it again. Her eyes widened, and she
glanced over her shoulder again.

  Elliot was about to ask who she was looking for when he followed where she was looking toward the door. What he saw there made him forget the next thing he was going to say. A tall guy with dark hair. A strong face, a face for losing himself in. A hint of scruff on his jawline that sent Elliot’s heart to pound. Against the backdrop of stuffy suits from the surrounding Loop office buildings, this guy stood out. He wore a loose button-up shirt that accentuated the swell of his pectoral muscles and that revealed hints of silky hair hidden in the valley between the plains of his chest. This was a man that walked out of his dreams, a man he never would have believed existed outside the pages of a fitness magazine.

  What Brianna did next caused Elliot’s hear to thump so hard in his chest, he was surprised people nearby couldn't hear it over the music that played. She raised an arm and waved at the hot guy.

  And the hot guy waved back.

  “What are you doing?” Elliot’s face lit up red like a beacon.

  “I know him,” Brianna said. “That’s my friend, Theo.”

  “Your what?” He knew what she said. He’d only ever heard her talk of a Theo a few times in the four years they spent together at the University of Chicago. “Your ex-boyfriend?” She never mentioned that her ex-boyfriend from high school was a model.

  “Ex-boyfriend until he came out.”

  He probably should have understood exactly what she was telling him, but the hot guy, this Theo, was walking in their direction too quickly and wearing a smile that belonged on movie stars and in magazines. And he seemed to study Elliot as he approached.

  Brianna stood up when he got close, and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. They exchanged their greetings, and Elliot wrapped his hands around his cold and sweating beer. His mouth was parched, but he didn’t risk another sip. What if he had a repeat of the suds?

  “Elliot!” Brianna said. She sounded almost far away to him. “This is my good friend, Theo.”

  “Hello,” Theo said. His voice was resonant and carried with it a kind of clarity over the ambient sounds of the bar. A hand came into Elliot’s view, and for a stretched-out moment, he wasn’t quite sure what he should do with it.

  Elliot followed the line of his arm up to look into the face of the man who owned the hand—blue eyes. God, this man was gorgeous. Finally, he reached out and shook Theo’s hand. “Hello,” he tried to say, but his throat was so dry that it came out barely above a whisper.

  “It’s okay,” Brianna said. Elliot wasn’t sure if it was to him or to Theo. “Have a seat, Theo. Join us for a drink.”

  A chair was brought over, and Elliot had the space of a few seconds to get his heartbeat back under control again. It wasn’t easy. The speed of the blood coursing through his veins caused his world to spin, and he thought maybe he was having a stroke or a heart attack.

  Because when Theo sat down, his leg pressed up against Elliot’s leg.

  Chapter Four

  Theo

  Theo sat at the table with his leg pressed up against this guy he just met, apparently the guy he was supposed to wine and dine and show a good time to. He sat with his hands folded in front of him, and he made small talk with Brianna while trying to catch the guy’s eyes. Brianna was right. Elliot wasn’t Quasimodo come down from the bell tower. He was actually kind of cute. He was slender, slightly pale with a narrow face and dark hair that swept down over his forehead. His skin was clear, and his eyes bright, a wary bird with eyes held wide to take in any and all threats. He wasn’t the first guy Theo would go to in a club, but he was somebody he might entertain for a time and maybe take home if there was no one else to catch his attentions before the lights came up at closing and they pushed people toward the doors. This was not the worst situation for him to be in.

  Theo tried again to get Elliot’s attention with a smoldering look that only seemed to cause him to retreat even further into himself. He had to wonder if Elliot was even interested with how he refused to make eye contact. For the first time in a long time, Theodore Cooper rebuffed. It caused him to shift in his seat and run fingers over his forehead to check his hair. He turned to Brianna.

  “So how’s it going, Brie?” Theo asked. She watched the both of them like waiting for something spectacular to happen, like it was a stage show and at any moment, an actor would come along and create a spectacle worthy of some applause. That’s what he was in this case, an actor. Really, that was a polite way to think about it. It softened the reality of this situation to see himself as playing a part, the part of a guy who was supposed to make another guy feel special in ways he had never experienced. And looking at Elliot once again, Theo could tell he had never experienced this. His hands were even trembling.

  But right then, he felt nervous too, and like he wasn't living up to his end of their bargain.

  “The usual,” Brianna said. “Work and far too little play.” With eye contact made, Brianna tilted her head toward Elliot to tell Theo he should talk to him and not to her.

  Theo shrugged back and mouthed, I don’t know what to do. And the sad thing to Theo was that Elliot was utterly unaware that all this was going on, his face turned away as if studying a spot on the floor some distance from their table, a thousand yards from where they sat, seeing everything yet taking in nothing.

  “Elliot,” Theo said. “So what do you do?”

  Elliot turned to him like he’d been struck, and Theo was almost certain he was about to bolt from the table. At least that confirmed one thing: Elliot was nervous, not uninterested.

  So Theo reached out and put a hand on top of his. He wasn’t sure why he did that or why he felt it was necessary to somehow hold onto Elliot’s hand like he might get away. Sure, the money might have had something to do with it. That was his whole motivation for being here, and if Elliot left them both at the table, the deal would likely be off. Theo would have no place to go, nowhere to live. But something in the way Elliot was acting, how frightened he was in that moment, made Theo want to act, to protect him.

  “Hey, bro. It’s okay.” Theo smiled.

  Elliot’s face reddened to the point that Theo worried it might burst open.

  He leaned in toward Elliot. “Why the red face? Don’t be embarrassed. Is that what’s going on? Are you embarrassed?”

  Elliot made some kind of motion with his head that Theo took to mean an agreement.

  “What do you have to be embarrassed about?”

  “I’m sorry,” Elliot said finally.

  Theo shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. We all have a bit of social anxiety from time to time.”

  “Why are you talking to me?” Elliot’s expression was one of skepticism.

  Theo laughed. “Why wouldn’t I talk to you is what you should be asking.” He glanced over at Brianna who appeared content enough to simply watch the whole thing play out, and there was just that hint of resentment at her seeming unwillingness to help out. But the way she looked at Theo seemed to suggest that he was doing all right on his own.

  The waiter came to the table, not bad looking and who apparently thought the same of Theo by how he stared down at his chest—eyes up here, buddy. But Theo kept his hand on top of Elliot’s the whole time, and the waiter took note of this in how he glanced between them, trying to puzzle it out.

  “I’ll have what he’s drinking,” Theo said. The waiter went on his way, and Theo turned back to Elliot. “So, you going to answer my question?”

  “Huh?” Elliot still looked frightened.

  “About work. What do you do?”

  “Oh.” Elliot moved his hand from under Theo’s, and an expression flashed over his face as if he regretted doing so. He reached for his beer like he wanted to take a drink. “Um, I work in the IT department at Mondial Publications.”

  “With Brianna,” Theo said.

  “That’s right,” Elliot said.

  Theo glanced between Elliot and Brianna. The waiter brought his beer, and he swallo
wed a mouthful. “You two known each other long?” He sort of knew the answers to this already, but he thought maybe pushing it into more of a back-and-forth conversation might pull Elliot out of his shell.

  Brianna finally joined in. “We had the pleasure of meeting one another during college,” she said. “Both of us lived on the same dorm wing.”

  Theo barked a quick laugh. “Brianna LaFontaine living in the dorms. I didn't believe it back then, and I still have my doubts.”

  “Of course, I did,” Brianna said with a bashful little smile. “I loved it. It was a nice change.”

  “From champagne and caviar,” Theo said. “And designer sheets and private bathrooms and a closet that could house a family of six.”

  “Hush, you!” She laughed. “And I still kept the designer sheets. It should go without saying that my roommate was able to benefit from some sense of luxury while I lived there.”

  “Flat screen television, maybe some maid service,” Theo said. “How the hell did a dorm-room closet fit all of your clothes?”

  Brianna leaned back and drummed fingernails on the tabletop. “I had to pick and choose what I brought with me.”

  Theo snorted. “That must have been hard for you,” he said. “A limited number of shoes and only a designer dress or two.”

  “It was tragic,” Brianna said, but she was still smiling. “I drove home at least twice a week to pick something else out of my old closet.”

  They laughed.

  And, Theo noted, Elliot was laughing too. He turned to Elliot. “And how did she rope you in?”

  Some ice was broken. Elliot said, “We were in the same freshman computer course, and she sat by me.”

  Brianna held her wine glass. “I’d seen him around on our hall. A familiar face is better than sitting alone.” She sipped. “Besides, I needed help with just about everything.”

  “Right. Whatever. All we did the whole time was talk about how boring and fundamental that class was.” Elliot grinned.