by L. A. Witt
I still had a few things I needed to take care of here before I left, but didn’t care. I had paperwork to square away, two more auditoriums to look over, e-mails to read, but Nathan was looking at me like that, so I just didn’t fucking care.
As I straightened my clothes, I glanced around the room. Around this room I’d been in thousands of times before.
In the space of minutes, the place had changed. In some way I couldn’t quite put my finger on, it seemed different.
Nothing had visibly changed, nothing had moved, but the air was different. The atmosphere was different.
“Ready to go?” Nathan asked, and the sound of his voice made the connection in my mind.
The room was different because he’d been here.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d fooled around in this room in the past. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the only time that mattered. Nathan erased my history here, just as he had everywhere else. He stopped just short of writing Nathan was here across every surface upon which we’d fucked. Not that he needed to. I didn’t need any kind of graffiti to remind me.
“Zach?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Let’s go.” On the way out, he rested his hand on the small of my back.
I’ve been here now, he said every time we touched. Nothing else matters.
Chapter Seventeen
I tapped my heel on my desk blotter in time with the song that was currently stuck in my head. The folder full of the past week’s time cards was spread across my lap and I gnawed on the end of a pen as I went over every last card, searching for any extended breaks or hours of rogue overtime. A few of my employees had recently discovered the art of adding two minutes or so to both ends of every break. It didn’t seem like much, but it added up fast.
I made a note about the sixth or seventh eighteen-minute break on Dean’s time card. Heather and Max had adopted the same trend. “I’m onto you, you little bastards,” I muttered into the silence. Looked like I was going to be writing a few people up soon, or at least having some one-on-one, one-way conversations.
The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see Dylan, but it was Max. Speak of the time-thieving devil. For now, though, I hid my annoyance about the time card issue. That could be dealt with later.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Uh, hey, Zach,” he said, not looking me in the eye. He glanced over his shoulder. “Some guy’s here to see you.”
“If he’s wearing brown shorts and driving a brown truck, tell him that anyone can sign for the packages,” I said with a good-natured smirk.
He laughed tentatively. “It’s not the UPS driver,” he said. “Some guy.” He shrugged. “Says he…knows you.” There was a world of discomfort in the last two words. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Some of my employees still didn’t quite know what to make of having a gay boss, and several of them assumed that any man who “knew” me did so in the Biblical sense. Given some of the men I allegedly “knew”, I often wondered what they thought of my taste in men.
“Send him in,” I said, making no move to sit up or stop shuffling time cards around. It was probably some vendor or another, or someone who wanted to be a vendor.
Max nodded and left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, a sharp knock announced the arrival of my visitor.
Closing the folder and dropping my feet to the floor, I sat up and said, “Come in.” I put on a professional expression, rising in anticipation of an equally professional handshake, but when the door opened, I froze.
“Zach,” Jake said with a broad smile. “How are you?”
“I’m, um…” I sat back down, leaning casually on one armrest so that he didn’t know I’d taken a seat to keep my knees from collapsing. “I’m fine. Fine. You?”
He shrugged, still smiling as he nudged the door closed with his heel. “Pretty good. I was just, you know, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“I see,” I said through clenched teeth. And you thought I’d want to see your sorry ass around my theatre? I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him to get the fuck out of my office. Though the door was closed, the walls were thin. Even though this was someone I “knew”, I had employees around. And customers weren’t too far out of earshot. Damn you, professionalism.
“So,” he said, dropping into the chair across from me without waiting for an invitation. “What have you been doing?”
Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? The grin spread across my face before I could stop it. I can’t tell you off, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck with you. “Oh,” I said, not even trying to suppress my amusement. “Not a whole lot.”
He leaned back in the chair and cocked his head, one eyebrow lifting. “Not a whole lot?”
I shook my head, my grin turning to a smirk. “Not a thing.”
He laughed, probably trying to make it sound arrogant, but he had an uneasy look on his face, the look of someone who was fairly certain he’d just become the punch line of a joke everyone knew but him. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his chair. “So, just working, then?”
“Something like that,” I said.
That eyebrow moved just a smidge higher. So did the corners of my mouth. So tell me, Jake, how does it feel to be played for an idiot?
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked suddenly.
With a cough of laughter, I said, “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”
He eyed me, then cleared his throat again. “I’m just, you know, curious.”
“What difference does it make if I’m seeing someone?” I asked.
He blinked, as if he didn’t know what to make of my lack of immediate answers to his questions. I sat back in my chair, kicking my feet up onto the desk. The chair creaked and Jake shifted again, obviously uncomfortable, and I had to keep from laughing. There was something deeply satisfying about the way we sat just then-me in the boss’s chair, him in the hot seat-that seemed to emphasize the shift in the balance of power between us. No longer was I under his thumb, being strung along, apologizing for every real and perceived slight. Now he was the one squirming under my cryptic comments and flippant grin.
He rested his chin on his hand, trying and failing to look casual and unconcerned. “I’m just curious,” he said. “I’ve thought about you a lot lately, and just wondered what you’ve been up to.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “You first.”
He blinked again. “What?”
I gestured as if to say go on, spill it. “You first. What have you been doing?”
“Oh,” he said. “Um, well…” He chewed his lip. Something on my desk fascinated him. Held his attention. Gave him a reason not to look directly at me. He may have even been staring at my shoes.
You like those shoes, Jake? You should see how they look on the floor next to Nathan’s. The thought almost made me laugh, but I bit it back.
His hand suddenly hit the armrest, hard enough to make me jump, and he let out a breath. “Look, let’s not play games here,” he said. “I wasn’t just in the neighborhood. I didn’t just come by to make small talk.”
It was my turn to blink in surprise. “Oh, really?”
He nodded and sighed. “I fucked up. Big-time.”
Oh, that’s news. “Okay…”
“Zach, I should have told you about Nathan,” he said, meeting my eyes finally. “I was going to, actually, I-”
“And that would have made a difference, how?” I snorted with laughter. “If I’d heard it from you instead of him that you were cheating on both of us?”
He dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, I know I fucked up.”
I shrugged. “It’s in the past.”
“I know,” he said. “And it won’t happen again, I swear.”
“No, of course it won’t, since we-” The penny dropped. “You want to get back together, don’t you?”
He nodded, a hopeful, pitiful expression on his face.
Laughter tried to e
merge from my throat, but I swallowed it. As much as I didn’t owe him a hell of a lot of consideration for his feelings, laughing in his face at such a vulnerable moment seemed excessively cruel. Oh, so tempting, but cruel.
I sat up, resting my elbows on the desk. “Jake, I…” Not in this lifetime? You’re a douchebag? Here’s a quarter, call someone who cares?
He sat up, too, putting his forearms on the opposite edge of the desk, something like hope glittering in his eyes. I wondered if he’d taken my change of position as something promising, a suggestion that I was actually considering this. When I sat back-keeping my feet down this time-he drew a breath, but his shoulders fell slightly, as if my move deflated some of his hope. With more than a little amusement, I wondered how long I could keep messing with him just by deliberately changing my body language to give him mixed signals.
Again, tempting.
Again, a bit too cruel.
“Look, Jake,” I said. “We’re done. It’s over.”
He leaned forward a little more. “We can try again. Start over. I mean-”
I put a hand up. “No. I’m sorry-” Not really. “But no. It’s over.”
He released a breath, the pain in his eyes almost making me feel guilty. Almost, but not quite. “Zach, please, we could just start fresh. We had something really great going, and I know I fucked it up. I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”
“We had something really great,” I said, nodding. “You’re right about that. But…we don’t have it anymore.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have it again.”
Christ, do I really have to spell it out for you? “We can’t.” I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Especially since I’m seeing someone else now.”
He sat back, parting his lips as if to release a breath, but the air seemed stuck in his throat somewhere. “Oh,” he finally managed. Then he laughed dryly. “You didn’t let the grass grow, did you?”
I scowled. “At least I waited until we were done.”
He flinched and put his hands up defensively. “Right, right, sorry.” He coughed quietly. “I, so, wow…” He shook his head. “You met someone that fast?”
“Yes,” I said. “Funny thing, actually. We ran into each other one night and had a lot in common.” I raised an eyebrow. “A lot in common.”
Furrowing his brow, he cocked his head. “Meaning?”
“Similar taste in men, apparently,” I said, humor creeping back into my voice.
He regarded me silently for a moment, his face the very picture of confusion. “I’m not following, are you-” His eyes widened. “Wait. Are-” He shook his head and laughed. “Jesus, for a minute I was thinking you were going to tell me you’re seeing Nathan.”
“Which I am.” I grinned, watching his laughter stop abruptly.
He coughed again, followed by a short bark of laughter. “Good one,” he said, chuckling. “You almost had me going.”
“No, really.” I shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t start seeing each other right away.” I paused. “Well, okay, we did go out that night, but-”
“Are you fucking serious?” Jake snarled, his face contorting with anger. “You’re seeing him?”
“Yes. I’m seeing Nathan,” I said with another shrug. “Like I said, we had something in common.”
“You son of a bitch,” Jake said, white-knuckling the armrest of the chair. “What the-” He shook his head. “What the fuck? Where do you get off seeing my ex-boyfriend?”
Another shrug, as flippant as I could manage. “I get off pretty much anywhere he-”
“Cut the crap,” he snapped. “I can’t believe this. You two have a lot of nerve.”
I laughed aloud. “We have a lot of nerve? Because we’ve decided to move on after we were both cheated on?” I laughed again as I leaned back and threw my feet onto my desk, trying to be as unabashed and flippant as I could. “Right, because clearly we need to take your feelings into consideration, is that it?”
He glared at me. “I can’t believe you two.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually bothering to get pissed about it.” I laced my fingers behind my head and tapped my heel on the desk. “You hardly have a leg to stand on here, Jake, with this unrighteous indignation.”
“Oh, fuck you,” he growled.
“No, thank you.” I smiled. “I’ll leave that to Nathan, if you don’t mind.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door silenced him.
I gave him a look that I hoped told him keep your mouth shut. “It’s open,” I called out.
The door opened and Dean poked his head in. “Hey, Zach,” he said. His eyes darted from Jake to me and back again.
Yes, Dean, I “know” this guy. “What do you need, Dean?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even.
“The, um,” he paused. “The projector in the middle auditorium is causing problems again.”
I groaned. “Fuck, again?”
He nodded. “The next showing isn’t until five, but Dylan’s trying to fix it before then.”
“Oh, God.” I rolled my eyes. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute. But don’t let him fuck with it.”
“Will do.” The door closed and Dean was gone.
Jake rose, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. “I guess I should go,” he said. “Apparently you have more important things to deal with.”
“I have a business to run,” I said as I stood. “And it seems to me that we’ve settled this anyway, so the timing couldn’t be better.”
His jaw dropped, then tightened again. “So that’s it, then? You and Nathan?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly it. Sorry, I guess that doesn’t leave much room for you.”
“Evidently not,” he said.
“This was your choice, Jake,” I said as I came around the desk. Opening the door, I made the same after you gesture he’d made at the entrance to the bar the night I met Nathan. “If you don’t like the consequences, there isn’t much I can do about it.”
He glared at me again and, for a moment, I was certain he was going to launch into a tirade or one last plea to take him back. Then he lowered his gaze, nodded and followed my gesture out the door.
We walked in silence down the short hall to the lobby. Following him like this, knowing that he was on his way out, that I’d stood my ground, was strangely liberating. We’d been apart for a while now, but something deep down still doubted my ability to walk away from him. Or let him walk away from me.
But there he was, regardless of my doubts, walking away while I resisted the urge to tell him to hurry the hell up.
He paused at the exit with his hand on the bar across the door. Our eyes met, and he looked away first. Without a word, he pushed the door open and left. It banged shut behind him with a satisfying echo.
I smiled as he disappeared into the crowd. I’ll be sure to tell Nathan you said hello.
Then I turned on my heel and headed into the projector room to see if Dylan had managed to destroy anything.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time the day finally wound down and there was enough of a lull in the chaos for me to make my escape, I had just enough time to get halfway across town and be on time to meet Nathan. He wasn’t there yet, so I grabbed a table and waited for him.
It had been about a week since we’d seen each other. We’d both been swamped with work and just hadn’t been able to cross paths. By the third day, I was going out of my mind. By the fifth, I could think of nothing but tonight, when I’d finally get to relieve some of this tension. And this had nothing to do with stress from work or anything of the sort. When Jake and I went a few days like this, it was usually both sexual tension and work-related stress that snowballed until I was on the brink of the kind of madness that could only be relieved by a night of relentless sex.
Tonight, I was on that brink, but my job had nothing to do with it. Nathan was the cause and the cure, and I needed him now.
Out of nowhere, he was there, materializing on the bench across from me just like he did the night we met, and my heart almost stopped. Oh, God, you’re really here. I smiled at him and we made small talk, but all the while I wondered how I was going to get through dinner. Already, I was tempted to suggest we just skip dinner and go back to his place.
I kept myself calm and collected, though. He didn’t need to know just how much I needed him right then. He knew I wanted him, but I didn’t want him to think I was desperate. Which, of course, I was.
If you only knew what you did to me, Nathan.
After we’d ordered, I steered the conversation toward something I knew would keep my arousal at bay for a little while. “You’ll never guess who came by the theatre today,” I said.
His eyebrows jumped. “I’m going to assume it wasn’t Colin Farrell, since you’d have brought him with you tonight if you knew what was good for you.”
“You really think I’d share him if I got my hands on him?”
“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” he said, lifting his glass.
“If he ever shows up, we’ll talk.” I winked. Oh, God, what I wouldn’t do for a chance at that particular threesome-no, no, stay focused. On something other than getting Nathan naked and-fuck. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, no, not him.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t Colin Farrell,” he said. “I’m going to have to guess He Whose Name I’d Rather Not Think Of.”
I laughed and nodded, raising my glass in a mock toast. “The one and only.”
Nathan gave a quick sniff of laughter, then eyed me as he picked up his own drink. “So, what did he want?”
“To get back together.”
He put his glass down so hard we both jumped. Staring at me incredulously, he said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shook my head. “Nope. He was pretty ballsy about it, too.”
“Seems a bit strange.” He furrowed his brow and absently ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “I mean, why now? After, what, almost a month?”
“Something like that,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t know what made him decide to do it now. Hell, I don’t know what made him think he had a chance at all, whether it was last week, this week, or next year.”
