by M. A. Hinkle
George relaxed. “Are you a pastry chef?”
Damon shook his head. “No. I used to be the executive chef at Stephen’s, but I decided to try something new.”
“Oh, so you know Melina!” And then the discussion dissolved into name-dropping.
Cathal brushed crumbs off his desk, suppressing a frown. George was pleasant, and he was male, and he was single, and he and Damon were both food people. Win-win all around.
So why was Cathal regretting his cookie?
OTHER PARENTS FILTERED into the room and took macarons and cookies, but Damon and George didn’t notice—until a teacher and a dark man with a nervous smile came in. George stiffened, and the man smiled apologetically, raising one hand in a wave.
“I take it that’s the ex,” Cathal said, setting his cheek on his hand. George nodded, looking like a spooked cat.
The teacher said some blah blah blah about how happy he was to have them all there, and then he introduced George’s ex. His name was Cleon, a stage manager who had run last year’s fundraising drive for the theater’s new equipment. George stared at him like he was hoping it was a bad dream.
They started talking about how to run the lights and the curtain and all that good stuff. Cathal only listened with half an ear, and he could tell Damon didn’t have his mind on the subject matter, either, although that was probably because Damon learned better by doing. Handing him an instruction manual was an exercise in frustration.
By the end of the night, all the macarons and sugar cookies were gone. Damon had gotten several compliments, and, despite his concerns, he got on well with the other parents. Most people lingered, although George’s ex hightailed it out of there like someone had lit a fire under his ass.
As everyone else filtered out of the room, George turned back to Damon. Cathal pretended interest in gathering up all the papers they’d been given as George leaned against the desk. “You know, if you’re trying to learn about pastry, I wouldn’t mind letting you use my equipment.” He wasn’t good at acting casual. In that, he and Damon were perfectly matched.
“You’d really let me?” said Damon, getting to his feet. “I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”
“Nobody gets married in March unless they like Alanis Morissette and want rain on their wedding day. And we’re looking for an extra hand.”
Damon looked away. “I’m not looking for work.”
George shrugged, unfazed. “It doesn’t have to be all the time. But there’s no reason your practice can’t be what we’re working on anyway, eh?”
Damon looked George over. Not the sexy type of looking over. The Damon type of looking over, where the subject felt like the Voynich Manuscript, illegible and possibly a gigantic hoax. “I suppose not, no.”
George took out his wallet. “Here’s my card. Feel free to text me if you ever want to come by.”
“Sure,” said Damon, still wearing an expression like he’d been swindled.
Felix was sleeping over at the triplets’ place, so they were free to leave. When they got out to the car, Cathal looked over at Damon. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?”
Damon frowned at the card and tucked it in his wallet behind a gift card. “He’s nice. You don’t meet people like that in the business very often—it’s always about what they can get from you, not the other way around.”
“He wasn’t doing it to be altruistic.”
Damon started the car and said nothing.
Cathal gestured to the heavens for patience. “He was hitting on you.”
Damon narrowed his eyes, although that could have been at the guy who cut him off. “He was friendly. I mean, yeah, he’s gay, but he wasn’t—” He glanced at Cathal. “You really think so?”
Now he was flustered, and it was adorable, the way penguins in sweaters were adorable.
“Why did anyone ever let you out in public.” Cathal sighed, falling back in his seat. “I don’t think so, I know so. He figured you wouldn’t respond well to a regular coffee date—which you wouldn’t have, so he’s a smart panda.”
Damon laughed, and Cathal shot him a dark look. “No, it’s—I forgot you and Era always said that.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if he’s hitting on me. I’m not interested. He’s nice, but—no.”
Cathal rolled his eyes. Damon still struggled with liking guys. Which was ridiculous, but Damon was ridiculous.
“Why do you care, anyway?” Damon asked.
Cathal couldn’t puzzle out his tone, though that was nothing new. He glared at the passing cars. “Because I’m trying to get your sorry ass out in the world, and here you are, ignoring the first guy who looks sideways at you. Beggars can’t be choosers. You’ve got to get your feet wet somehow. Insert relevant cliché here.”
It wasn’t true, but Damon didn’t know that.
Damon shook his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re trying to shove me off on someone else. It’s what you always do.”
Cathal ignored him. They rode in silence the rest of the way.
Seven: Bulleted Lists Are not Always the Answer. Just Most of the Time.
THEY DIDN’T WATCH food shows that night. Cathal retreated to his room. His intention was to look through articles for relevant sources for his book.
Instead, he found himself scribbling notes on why, exactly, he didn’t care for George. He should really cut his hair and The cookies were not anything to write home about and Who names their bakery after a unicorn?
He crumpled up the list and threw it in the waste bin, but the facts remained. The only question became what he was going to do about it. Which he did not feel like facing without alcohol.
He went downstairs and found Damon at the kitchen table, rolling out a log of dough. Containers of food coloring were lined up beside him.
Going back upstairs would have been the smart thing, but Cathal was stupid and liked to get himself into trouble. “It’s a bit late for work, isn’t it?”
Damon didn’t look up. “You’re one to talk.”
“Sleep is for the weak.” Cathal went to the fridge and got a beer, although he wished he’d thought to pick up something stronger. Maybe tomorrow. He’d have to hide it, though. He wasn’t sure he wanted Damon around hard liquor.
Ugh. Definitely something stronger.
Damon glanced at the beer and raised his eyebrows. “If you’re trying to get to sleep, that’s not going to help.”
“Sleep is for the weak,” Cathal repeated. “I’ve got writer’s block.”
“Make yourself useful, then.” Damon broke the log into seven equal pieces and put a few drops of blue in one piece, which he passed to Cathal. “Roll this around in your hands for me.”
Cathal sniffed. “I’m only doing this because I want to eat it, mind you.”
“You’ll get to.” Damon dropped red food coloring on the next piece and rolled it between his palms.
“What is this going to be, anyway?” Cathal tried to focus on the dough, slowly turning pastel blue, but his eyes kept flicking up to Damon’s face. He’d lost weight, turning his cheeks into hollows.
“Rainbow sugar cookies. It works best if you make the dough ahead of time and chill it. I couldn’t get to bed either, so I figured I might as well do something useful.” Damon blew out a breath. “I keep thinking I should go back to work since I can’t find things to do with myself, but…I don’t know.”
“It hasn’t been that long, Damon,” said Cathal, gentler than he’d intended.
Damon’s face shuttered. “That much I know.” He glanced at Cathal’s work. “That’s good enough. Here.” He added yellow to a third piece and passed it to Cathal.
Cathal took it without even a token protest, which he knew was suspicious, but…ugh.
Damon added blue and yellow food coloring to another piece and worked it. “Were you serious? Before? About—George?”
Of course Damon wanted to talk about that. “Why would I lie?” Cathal wanted to be sharp, but it cam
e out tired. “Believe it or not, I’ve fixed up plenty of my friends. And George wasn’t being subtle.”
Damon studied him. Cathal wasn’t sure what his expression told Damon. “I don’t know what to do with that information.”
“You don’t have to do anything with it. I’d say I can’t believe you missed it, but, really, I can, and I am not in the least surprised.” That, at least, was properly prickly.
Damon studied the quality of the green in his hands and added more yellow. “It’s not like I was ever good at this stuff. I just feel like I should care, and I don’t, and it’s not because of Era. I don’t know what it is.”
“Yes, well, welcome back to the world of sex, Damon. That’s how it is for everybody.” Cathal set down his ball, and Damon passed him another one colored with red and blue.
“Not for you, it isn’t. You always know what you want.”
Damon was looking at him now, and Cathal didn’t care for it. He squished the dough with perhaps more violence than the situation warranted. “What, you’re not going to carp on me for never settling down?”
“Family life isn’t for everyone. I’m surprised you’ve stayed here as long as you have.”
Cathal glared—not at anything in particular, at everything in general. What did Damon know about families? More importantly, what did he think Cathal knew about family? His only real family was dead now.
But he shoved that feeling in a box, labeled it shut the fuck up with a brilliant red sharpie, and put it away. That was for therapy, not a regular conversation.
When Cathal was sure he could speak without saying something way too mean, he said, “It’s not for everyone. But it’s not like I could go back to work even if I wanted to. Not in the middle of the semester.” He let out a breath. “I like my privacy, but that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled at the idea of going home and having nothing to do. At least here I get to annoy the fuck out of you.”
Damon snorted. “There is that.” He finished with his current log but didn’t take up a new one. “Felix likes having you around, though, you know.”
“Of course he does. I’m awesome.”
CATHAL TOOK THE beer up to his room when they were finished, but he didn’t drink it. At that point, he knew it wouldn’t help.
When was the last time he’d liked someone? He couldn’t remember—things before Era got sick had faded. He’d had plenty of fun, but nothing that had lasted more than a few weeks, and nothing more complicated than “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
Damon was not a back-scratching kind of guy. He was a commit-or-die kind of guy. And Cathal…Cathal wasn’t sure what kind he was anymore.
Leaving would be the right thing to do, but Cathal hadn’t been joking when he said he had nowhere else to go. Yes, his apartment, but then he’d get to be sad and frustrated in an empty apartment instead of sad and frustrated in Era’s house.
More importantly, he didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here, and it was stupid, and it made him feel like clawing his face off, but there was no point in lying to himself. He lied to other people enough.
Cathal rubbed his face and turned back to his legal pad. Bullet points. Bullet points always helped.
Well, it’s not like I have to tell anyone.
At some point, I will have to go back to teaching, so I have a built-in excuse to leave.
I get to spend time with Felix. Lots of sweets.
I will get fat.
I don’t care.
If I spend enough time in Damon’s company, I will loop back around to disliking him. Everyone gets on my nerves after long enough.
He’s never stopped getting on my nerves. I’m just into it now.
I mean.
What the fuck?
The list was not getting him anywhere. Cathal thought about ripping it into little bits, but that was petty. He did crumple the paper up and throw it in the bin.
This was why he never listened when people told him love was supposed to be a good thing. It was stupid. Feelings were stupid. He should have gone home instead of getting himself all wrapped up in cakes and Felix’s love life and Damon’s stupid pretty eyes.
CATHAL DID HIS best to spend the rest of the next day in his room, but he did have to emerge for more water. And to put the beer back in the fridge, since it had been sitting on his desk staring at him, and it wasn’t like he could drink it now it was all warm and gross.
Damon was slicing perfect circles off a log of dough made of the rainbow balls from last night. They’d been stuck together to form a spiral. It was pretty. Cathal would have put money against the idea that Damon could ever make anything pretty. What else had he been wrong about?
Well, when one was trying to prove a hypothesis, one did not look for evidence that supported it. One looked for evidence against it. He’d been giving in to confirmation bias this entire time. Was Damon guilty of it too? Or had Cathal made too much of an effort to annoy Damon to ever let him see who Cathal really was?
Ugh.
“These are nice,” said Cathal, because there was no point pretending he didn’t want to.
Damon glanced up and frowned when he didn’t see a joke. Or, at least, that’s why Cathal assumed he was frowning. It could have been anything. He had the worst case of resting bitch face.
“Complicated stuff is good, right now,” Damon said. “I mean, it would be easier to do simple stuff, but I don’t want it to be easier, because then I would get done, and I would have nothing to do again.”
“So why don’t you want to go back to work?”
Damon sighed. “It’d just be more people to tell. I mean, telling people once in a while is all right, especially if I don’t have to see them every day. But you can’t keep secrets from your crew at work. And I don’t—” His hands stilled, and he closed his eyes. “It’s not that I want to forget about her. But I can’t have it pushed in my face all the time, or I’ll never find a way to fill the rest of my life, and Era would take hell out of me for that.”
He laughed, suddenly.
Cathal raised his eyebrows. He was acting cool, and wasn’t it strange to notice acting cool around Damon when their entire interaction had once been based on not making eye contact?
“No, it’s—” Damon shook his head. “Era asked you to look after me, and I’m sure it’s because she had no one else to ask. No one else she trusted. She didn’t think you’d actually be able to help me. But you have.” He looked over at Cathal, his expression puzzled but not upset. “I’d never have put money on that.”
“Well, neither would I, so that proves we both shouldn’t gamble.”
CATHAL STEELED HIMSELF to behave at the next rehearsal. After all, George was a man, and he was single, and he and Damon had plenty in common, and if Damon fell for him, it would solve a lot of problems, and Cathal would get to go home and be alone again like he always wanted.
Yeah. Absolutely.
And George and Damon were getting along, even though Damon looked like he was waiting for the moment George’s true lizard form burst out of his human skin. George had brought cake this time. Cathal scowled as he ate it even though it was the best cake he’d ever tasted. Apparently the baking soda thing had not been Damon’s imagination, since he and George were in the middle of a conversation about acids and bases, which was another thing Cathal would have put money on Damon knowing nothing about.
He hated being wrong.
There was one bright side: they had to pair up over equipment manuals, and George ended up with Damon, so Cathal was left looking for someone. Cleon, George’s ex, sat next to him, keeping out of George’s line of sight.
“Something tells me that you showing up here is not a coincidence,” Cathal murmured, not even pretending to care about the equipment manual.
Cleon winced. “It was my daughter’s idea. She threatened to stop getting an extra ticket for me to her concerts and such until I agreed to help out.”
Cathal raised his eyebrows. “Am I correct in r
ealizing I’ve been cast as an extra in a queer production of The Parent Trap?”
“I’m not that stupid. George will never forgive me, and with good reason. I’m hoping Evie will see that.” He glanced over Cathal’s shoulder and winced again before looking back down to the still unopened manual. “At the very least, maybe she’ll see George and that other guy together and realize he’s moved on.”
Cathal stiffened. Cleon looked up, but before he could ask anything, the teacher announced they were moving on to something else. Thank goodness for small favors.
FELIX WAS COMING back with them that night, so they waited out by the car. Cathal had been all for plunging into the midst of the kids and collecting him, but Damon vetoed it, pointing out that this was still a ploy to win Morgan’s affections, and if he was as shy as Felix described, he would spook. Cathal had capitulated after not much of a fight. He was dispirited.
Anyway, now he got to grill Damon before grilling Felix, and that was good. Even if it wasn’t for altruistic reasons. Cathal told himself he’d never done anything altruistic, and though that was technically true, it didn’t make him feel better. “So you and George seem to be getting on well,” he commented, leaning against the passenger door.
Damon was sitting on the hood of the car. He frowned at George’s name. “I wish you’d stop implying things. I keep telling you, I’m not interested in him that way.”
Cathal shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I can’t help it. I’ve fallen victim to the sunk-cost fallacy. I’ve put a lot of effort into you getting a life, and I’m not willing to see you squander the chance.”
Damon sighed. “I’d say something about how nice it’d be if you’d talk like a person for once, but at this point, I might miss it. I feel like I’m getting smarter by osmosis.”
Cathal stared at him.
“What?”
“I legitimately had no idea you knew what osmosis was.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “I think I might take him up on the offer to use his equipment. I want to try something ambitious.”
