“Can I come tonight?”
If it had sounded even a little like a come-on, he would have refused. Mostly, though, Rasul sounded desperate. “You can come over long enough to get some books.” He paused, considering. “Well, if you wanted to write in the bookstore, you could do that too.”
It was as if Jacob had told a child they could get anything they wanted from a candy store. “Seriously? What time do I have to be done by?”
“When I go to bed, which is usually around eleven.”
“Deal.” He looked pleased. “Now all I need is a magic wand to fix my own place so I don’t have to bug you.”
“Actually, I might be able to help you there as well. Or rather, I know some people who can. What are you doing next Friday night?”
“Hating my apartment and wishing I could take a walk without being bothered every few feet. Why?”
“There’s a group I go to sometimes for area gay men. I think you could make some connections there of people eager to help you fix your space. Plus you could make some more friends.”
“Just gay, or gay and bisexual and pan men?”
“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude. Though I don’t think we have many bi men.”
“Probably the advertising strategy. Do you usually talk about it only being for gay men?”
“I think so. Sorry.”
Rasul shrugged, but he didn’t have the same breeziness he usually did.
Jacob felt awkward, aware he’d stepped in something but unsure of how to fix it. He’d been hating on the group’s name since its creation, but only because it sounded ridiculous. He was mortified with himself he hadn’t considered how exclusionary it was. Should he say something to them? Well, obviously.
What happened if they brushed it off, though? Should he keep pushing? What if Gus or Matt were ones who thought it wasn’t a big deal?
Wrong question. How about wondering how many other bisexual and pansexual men feel shut out? What about trans men?
Rasul interrupted Jacob’s musings by loudly patting his belly. “Well, I’d planned on getting some dessert, but I don’t think I have it in me. What leftovers do you want?”
“You take them all.” Jacob knew his whole face flamed with the still-blooming embarrassment of his faux pas, but he made himself push through it. “I meant to ask you. How are your classes going?”
“Good, actually.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, I guess. It’s my first time teaching in this kind of setting, but the students are eager. All over the map, but that makes it great. I’m into the lesbian romance author.”
“Oh, Meg? I’ve had signings for her. She does well. I’m not surprised she’s trying to hone her craft.” He hesitated, then pushed on. “Are you interested in coming to the meetup next week?”
“Sure, sounds interesting.”
“Okay. I’ll tell them we’re coming.” Why did he feel so self-conscious? “Um, did you want to have another date before then?”
Rasul’s smile made him dizzy. “I want as many as you’ll give me.”
“Ah. Okay. I’ll… look at my schedule and call you.” Unable to handle it any longer, he pushed out of the booth. “I’m going to run to the restroom quick. But here’s my debit card so they can split the check.”
Inside the bathroom, Jacob locked the door and slid down the wall, pressing his hands to his temples.
When he came out to rejoin Rasul and walk back to his apartment, Avni winked at him. “Come again soon.”
Chapter Seven
RASUL WONDERED why he’d broken form and let Jacob know the local gay group’s bi/pan erasure bothered him.
It wasn’t the first time something like that had pissed him off, far from it. He had a lot of banked anger going all the way back to high school, where he’d kept a tight lid on his orientation and only dated girls because coming out as bi or pan felt far too dangerous. There were several peaks of fury from college, when he’d finally started opening up about it, and gay and straight friends and lovers would wrinkle their nose at him like he’d admitted he only washed his hair once a month. “Are you sure?” was a common refrain. “But you’re dating a guy,” someone would point out, insisting that meant he was gay. “But you’re dating a girl” would come another time, and now his pansexuality—they’d called it gayness—had been a phase. His whole life, people had lined up to explain his orientation to him as if he weren’t personally living it. But as he did with almost everything, usually he pasted on a smile and laughed it off.
Never had he let the awkwardness go on so long he sent his date, or even his fake date, running for cover.
Once Jacob had come back to the table, they’d fallen into something more amicable once again, chatting about how Rasul’s classes were going on the way to the bookstore. This dovetailed, somehow, into a loving discussion about I Capture the Castle, now fresh once again in Rasul’s mind.
“Their poverty astounds me. Every time I read it, I try to imagine what the equivalent would be today. Because back then goods were sold and managed differently. Also, can you imagine everything being made locally? Or rather, trade wasn’t remotely on the level then that it is now. Which always makes me think of how many goods flow across the oceans daily from China to basically everywhere. From everywhere to everywhere. I can’t fly to London without spending an arm and a leg, but I buy cheap clothing made on the other side of the world.”
He’d ended up not writing at Jacob’s place, only talking endlessly about books until he’d seen the time and realized he needed to let Jacob sleep.
“Oh, but I meant to give you this earlier.” Jacob fished in a small drawer in the kitchen and came back with a key. “It’ll only get you in through the back door at the top of the stairs, but I thought this way you could come and go without having to be let in.”
The key felt heavy in Rasul’s hand, weighty with the gravity of the gesture. “Wow, thank you. Do you move this fast with all your fake boyfriends, or am I special?”
Jacob rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “I’m assuming eventually you’ll want to come work while I’m out. For example, Tuesday I have back-to-back meetings first at the hospital and then at the chamber of commerce. If you’re here that day and write past closing, you can let yourself out the back.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it, sincerely.”
Jacob nodded and averted his gaze again. “So… the meeting next Friday night is at six. It happens to be a potluck in City Park this time, but we can pick something up on the way.”
“If you let me use your kitchen, I can whip something up.”
“Of course.”
Rasul stayed up late that night reading new books he’d borrowed from Jacob, sleeping until midmorning without meaning to. The urge to write had left him, but he went over to Jacob’s anyway and put in the time, managing to drag a thousand words of dreck out of himself. He stayed away on Sunday, half hoping Jacob would call him for a date, telling himself not to be disappointed when his phone remained silent. On Monday, though, Jacob invited him to lunch at the Italian restaurant. It was busy, and he felt lucky they got a table.
People still watched him everywhere he went, but he was getting used to it.
He also hit the library on Monday, losing himself in the stacks for hours and coming out with a pile of books he could barely carry home. He ate leftovers from lunch for dinner.
Tuesday he worked at the bookstore until class, enjoying a lunch break with Jacob. He did the same thing on Wednesday and Thursday, except when he was at his office hours. Class continued to go well too. He’d assigned more reading to his students and asked them to have a short story ready to group critique in two weeks.
His writing was… going. He’d managed to get a whole scene done, and when he sent it to Elizabeth, she didn’t hate it, just told him to keep going.
She hadn’t mentioned Adina, and he didn’t ask.
On Friday he cooked.
He’d spied a food pro
cessor on top of Jacob’s fridge the other day, and when Jacob mentioned the picnic was a potluck, he knew right away he was going to make his grandmother’s hummus and pita bread. He soaked fresh chickpeas overnight, then hauled them in a container he’d also purchased so he could boil them at Jacob’s while he worked. He also started making the bread, and toward the end of the afternoon when it was baking, he had difficulty focusing on his work because of the olfactory explosion.
He was cutting up vegetables for a tray when Jacob came up the stairs. “Wow, what smells so good?”
“Hummus and pita bread.” He ripped off a piece of a mostly cooled round, dipped it in the hummus, and fed it to Jacob. “My grandmother’s recipe. What do you think?”
Jacob’s groan was answer enough. “Oh my God. It’s amazing.”
“I haven’t made it in a while, but it used to be my go-to stress-relieving activity, making pita and hummus.”
Jacob stole more bread and helped himself to a generous amount of hummus. “I like how you say it. Homm-ous.”
“My grandmother would rise out of her grave and smack the back of my head if I didn’t.”
They finished up the last of the prep together, then packed everything in a box and took it to Jacob’s car. “They’re going to be surprised,” Jacob said, “because normally I’m the one who shows up with a two-liter and bag of chips, or store-bought cookies.”
“Do all of them know we’re dating? Or rather, do all of them think we’re dating?”
Jacob snorted. “In this town, everyone knew in twenty minutes, and most of them thought we were even before it was official. A word of warning: don’t tell anyone anything you don’t want put on blast. Especially Jared Kumpel. He’s the worst gossip ever.”
“Noted.”
“Has our pretend dating helped you the way you wanted?”
Rasul nodded. “I think so. My agent seems happy, but she still won’t give me my phone back.”
“Well, I’m glad our arrangement is helping. I haven’t had many people bother me about it, though I have sold more books this week than I normally would due to people dropping by hoping to see you.”
“Why, do they know I write in your kitchen every day?”
“They know you come over every day, and apparently this is an exciting development. I get a lot of people wanting more information, but I don’t tell them anything.”
“My students ask me about our relationship a lot, and people at the college. Also my next-door neighbor. And people at the grocery store, including the checker. I had to go pick up something from Elizabeth at the post office because it wouldn’t fit in my box, and the counter clerk, the same one who sold me the mailer for my phone, grabbed my hands and told me she was rooting for us. Honestly, for a second I thought she was going to cry, she was so emotional about it. Does this happen a lot when people date here?”
“Even with virtual entertainment studios in their back pocket, the people of Copper Point can’t resist a drama unfolding right in front of their eyes.”
Rasul considered this statement as they drove the rest of the way to the park and had almost grasped a corner of how this might relate to his story when Jacob stopped the car and a large cluster of men came over to introduce themselves. He saw several of the doctors and the hospital CEO he’d spoken to at the gala. Rasul remembered Jacob’s warning about the pediatrician and gave vague answers during his grilling.
There were too many people to remember, but Rasul did his best. Gus he’d already met, and Matt. There were also several professors from the university. Ram Rao was in the music department, and Christopher Miller was a math professor. Rasul was pretty sure he’d seen them at a staff meeting, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to them until now. There was also a lawyer, Julian Steele, who looked as if he were super aggressive and calculating in everything he did, and boy would Rasul have tapped that in any other circumstance.
Several students from the college were there as well, a few he recognized from class. One of those was Ben Vargas, who turned out to have grown up in the same town as Gus. He made, Rasul noticed, a lot of puppy eyes at Gus, ones Gus worked hard to ignore.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people at a GAG event,” Jacob mused as they set out their pita and hummus.
“They all came to meet your boyfriend,” Owen said with a wink at Jacob.
Rasul, meanwhile, was stuck on something Jacob had said. “Hold on. This group is called GAG? As in, the reflex?”
“Gay Area Guys,” Owen said, looking pleased. “Funny, right?”
Jacob decidedly did not look amused. “I’ve never liked the name, but honestly, Owen, it should be more inclusive. Unless you don’t want to be welcoming to all queer men?”
Owen frowned at Jacob, looking seriously confused. His husband Erin, however, regarded Jacob thoughtfully. “You’re right. That’s why it’s been bothering me. Well, that and GAG is ridiculous.” He tapped his cheek. “It could be QUAG.”
“No double entendre, but it would get the job done.” Owen scratched his chin. “Dang. Feel like an ass I didn’t think of it. That’s what I get for getting all focused on making puns and jokes.”
“What’s this?” Julian asked this as he came in closer, gaze sliding to the hummus Jacob had just unwrapped.
“We’re changing the name of GAG,” Owen told him. “To QUAG.”
Julian arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, at least it doesn’t make me think we’re all coming here for some sort of oral sex fest.” He smiled at Rasul with a look he suspected was saved for jury members who needed to be swayed. “Would you mind terribly if I tried some of your pita and hummus? It looks amazing.”
Rasul lifted the plate for him, though he kept glancing to the side to look at his fake boyfriend. He was blotchy red all over, the way he got when he was embarrassed, but he looked relieved too. So he hadn’t known how that conversation would go, but he’d brought it up anyway. In a way that wasn’t a big deal, just addressing an issue, and people had simply rolled with it.
Honestly, it was a damn shame they weren’t actually dating, because the man had a lot of gratitude sex backlogged at this point.
The picnic was fun, and the food was pretty great. Rasul enjoyed watching the men interact with each other as much as he did getting to know them. He got to hear Jared and Nick’s announcement of how they’d finally settled on a surrogate and hoped to be expecting their first child by the end of the year. Jack, the hospital’s surgeon, and Owen, the anesthesiologist, had some kind of good-natured rivalry going on that seemed to extend to everything they could possibly compete over but was brought to a head in the food they brought to the potluck. Owen presented a killer potato salad with whole baby potatoes and seven-minute eggs, and Jack had some sort of savory yogurt dish with cucumber, radish, and toasted sesame. They nominated Rasul to be their judge, and he struggled to choose.
“They’re both amazing. I love the eggs and the mustard vinaigrette in Owen’s dish, but I think I have to give ultimate props to savory yogurt. I have a huge sweet tooth, but my Syrian grandmother would kiss both your cheeks for this, Jack.”
Owen grumbled about his loss, but he quickly recovered and started needling Jack over something else, which Jack clearly enjoyed. Jack’s husband, Simon, who had taken Rasul home the day he’d met Jacob, chatted Rasul up to find out how he was enjoying Copper Point.
As they filled their plates, Jacob let the rest of them know Rasul was looking for help personalizing his apartment, and as predicted, everyone became interested in helping him problem solve. After complaining at the abysmal state of guest faculty housing, they shared design tips and volunteered things from their own homes to spruce things up. Ram said he’d nudge the dean about getting the place repainted, and Christopher promised to bring over some industrial-strength cleaner to get rid of the kitchen smells. Simon said he’d wheedle a new couch out of his uncle, who owned a furniture store. Rasul had several more numbers in his flip phone now, though every time he en
tered one, he had to endure their incredulity that he didn’t have a more modern phone.
Fewer distractions, he kept telling them. It wasn’t a lie.
To his surprise, several men pulled Rasul aside to passive-aggressively warn him that he needed to treat Jacob well, because apparently he never dated. Interestingly, Gus and Matt, Jacob’s self-professed best friends, weren’t among that number. They sure looked at him with menacing gazes, though.
At nine Rasul was trying to follow some story Jared was telling about a man everyone seemed to dislike but couldn’t stop talking about, when Jacob tugged on his sleeve and announced it was time to go.
“I have to get up early. Unless you want to get a ride home with someone else?”
“No, I’m fine.” Rasul followed him away from the group after waving goodbye.
Too soon they were back at Rasul’s apartment. He thought about inviting Jacob up, then remembered why they’d left early. “Is it okay if I come over to write again tomorrow?”
“You can come over anytime. On Sunday I might set you up in the shop if you come, so I can clean.”
Rasul lingered with his hand on the door, trying to figure out how to say the things he wanted to say. I’d still like to date you for real buzzed at the back of his mouth the way it had since they’d started this charade. Thanks for speaking up about the group name was another top contender. I loved playing couple at a picnic with you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I loved it.
Instead, he sighed and gave Jacob what he hoped wasn’t a sad smile. “I had a great time.”
Jacob tried to give him his polite smile, but it frayed around the edges, like politeness was becoming difficult. “I’m glad.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you.”
Rasul got out of the car, grabbed the bag of empty dishes, and headed reluctantly into his crappy apartment.
THE FIRST month of fake dating was fairly easy for Jacob. They slid quickly into a routine, and being with him was pleasant. He looked forward to their weekly dates, which started to feel like a tour of Copper Point restaurants. Despite Les Clark’s continued dirty looks at chamber meetings, the restaurant owners were eager to have them, especially if Jacob called ahead to let them know they were coming. Apparently on Copper Point People, the infamous Facebook group, where Rasul and Jacob dined was a constant topic.
The Bookseller's Boyfriend (Copper Point: Main Street Book 1) Page 12
