Chapter 2
Chapter two
Miles
My phone dinged just as I was attaching the water supply to the toilet I was installing at the local hotel. The wrench in my hand jerked, lurching off the nut, and I cursed under my breath. “Goddammit.”
After a deep breath, I readjusted the wrench, finished connecting the water supply, and turned the water back on. Once the tank was filled, I tested the installation with a flush and set my tools down, wiping my hands on a towel. Then I reached up to the counter to check my phone.
I scowled at the notification from the social media app I was only on because my sister had all but threatened me several years back before tapping it open.
Skimming the page for an upcoming event I’d been invited to, I cursed again—still under my breath because I was on a job site, and I was a professional, dammit.
As the town’s only handyman worth their salt, I picked up each and every odd job I was comfortable doing—which, after twenty years of doing it, was just about anything.
The only things I wouldn’t touch were tasks that required a permit and thus a licensed professional—everything else I’d either done a million times or could learn how to do quickly, so it was all fair game.
I tapped over to my email app, realizing I hadn’t checked it yet today, and given the event . . .
Shit. A few more taps into my postal service’s delivery alert email had confirmed it: My twenty-year high school reunion invitation would be delivered to my mailbox today.
I didn’t want to go. That was my initial reaction. It would’ve been my forever and always reaction, but Claudia, my aforementioned menace of a sister—who I inexplicably still loved very much—would wear me down until I went.
Double shit.
Setting my phone back down, I packed up my tools, wiped the new toilet with a clean rag, then grabbed my phone and headed to the main lobby.
The clerk behind the front desk, a kid named Roger who was at least ten years younger than me—which, yes, I knew meant he wasn’t really a kid; I was just old—waved excitedly at me with a bright smile.
I gave him a barely polite up-nod as I passed, but I only allowed a brief moment of eye contact because, otherwise, I knew he would—
“Miles!”
Triple shit.
I put on my customer-service smile—which Claudia had told me was more of a grimace, but it was the best I was willing to do—and spun on my heel, making my way toward the check-in desk.
“Hi, Roger. Room 205 is all set; housekeeping just needs to give the bathroom a final once-over. Did you need something else?” Don’t need something else.
He shook his head, and a boulder formed in my gut. That meant he wanted to talk. “No, that’s all great. Everything’s great. You always do a great job!”
That was a whole lot of greats. But his grin was genuine and wide, and while I felt my grimace turn a little less grimace-y, it definitely wasn’t a smile.
“I wanted to know if you’ve seen the reunion invite!
It’s all anyone’s talking about. My mom’s friend group is all buzzing, discussing how great it will be for the local economy, bringing in some tourist dollars to kick off the summer.
My mom was telling me all about it. She’s even friends with Vanessa, the assistant principal, who’s on the reunion planning committee, so she has the inside scoop. ”
I blinked, trying to process all that information and a fourth great before remembering he’d sort of asked a question. “I should be getting my invite in the mail today.”
“Oh! It’s so exciting, right?” he asked then barreled ahead without waiting for an answer.
“I bet you’re stoked to see classmates you haven’t seen in twenty years.
I’m so jealous you all get a reunion. I’m due for my tenth next year, but I doubt the school will be able to afford another blowout so soon. ”
I cocked an eyebrow. Blowout? That didn’t sound good. “Heh, yeah,” I managed, trying to manifest the ground swallowing me whole so I could get out of this conversation.
“Is there someone you’re looking forward to seeing?”
His question hit me like a punch in the stomach because, yes, there was someone. Not that I would admit that to anyone.
So I gave a noncommittal answer, the scowl on my face fighting to return. “Not really.” Liar.
“Oh.”
My response seemed to deflate him, which made my gut clench uncomfortably. Despite my general grouchiness at the world, I didn’t want to dim the kid’s light. He should be able to be his bubbly self—I just really didn’t want it aimed at me.
Thankfully, he literally shook it off, doing a full-body jiggle. “Anyway, just send over the invoice, and we’ll get it paid right away. I hope you have a great day!”
My lips almost formed a smile at the relief I felt to be done with this conversation and a fifth great. He was on a roll. “Thanks, Roger. I appreciate that.”
As I headed for the door, he called out with a wide grin, “And we appreciate you! Don’t be a stranger, or I’ll track you down just to say hi.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, giving him what was certainly another grimace before I stepped out into the January sun.
Great.
***
My day had just begun—it was barely past eight am—and after that encounter with Roger, I definitely needed coffee.
The only place worth going was Fresh Brews, a south-side coffee shop that boasted freshly roasted beans from the best farms across the globe, so I pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot and pointed my truck in that direction.
It was completely out of my way, but the coffee served at The Roll, which was just a short walk from the hotel, was so terrible, Fresh Brews was worth the drive.
I thought I had a few appointments out this way, anyway, so I figured I could try to knock them out once I was caffeinated.
On the way, my mind drifted to who I might see at the reunion. I’d been friendly acquaintances with a few guys on the football and swim teams, even one or two I’d call a casual friend, but we hadn’t talked since graduation. It might be interesting to catch up with them. Maybe.
I’d played football for years, but I’d joined the swim team my junior and senior years for something to fill the void football left after its season ended. Staying busy meant not having time to think about how lonely I was.
Some things never changed.
But try as I might, I couldn’t get my mind to stop turning toward the one person I really wanted to see.
He’d been a consistent crush throughout middle and high school—even elementary school, before I fully understood what a crush was—but when he’d moved to Seattle for college and stayed there all these years, I gave up on the fantasy of ever being with him.
I wondered what he was like now. Would the twenty years since I’d seen him have changed him? Or maybe he was just a little older and wiser but still the kid I knew? I would bet anything that he’d grown into himself, become even more amazing than he was back then.
Over the years, my mind had drifted to him, imagining where he was and what he was doing.
I’d thought about what my life would’ve been like if he’d stayed in Gomillion, if I’d had the courage to ask him out, if I’d had the courage to come out.
I’d never felt like I needed to, but for him, for the chance to be with the one person I’d wanted almost my entire life? I might’ve.
God, I’d wanted him so much. On my most embarrassing days—more recently than I cared to admit—I’d even allowed myself the fantasy of being with him. I craved knowing what his skin felt like, how his voice sounded after all these years, if his eyes would capture me the way they had back then.
I sighed. My life was full of what-ifs and maybes, never any adventure, any risk. I was happy with that, too. That was just the way I wanted it.
Wasn’t it?
My turn signal clicked and blinked as I pulled into a parking spot at Fresh Brews. Though I couldn’t really smell the coffee from here, I could almost taste the rich, caramel scent of roasted beans being brewed—the smell of pure heaven on earth.
I grabbed my wallet, jumped out of my beat-up, ten-year-old pickup truck, and pocketed my keys.
As I headed toward the coffee shop, I grabbed my phone, pulling up and skimming my schedule from the app I used to find customers, ever the multitasker.
The app was a minor annoyance, but it kept the administrative side of my business simple.
Scanning my jobs for today, I saw that I had an appointment to fix someone’s internet just a few streets over. But . . . shit. It was scheduled for between two and five. Maybe I could call the customer and bump up the timeline?
My head was buried in my phone, unsuccessfully trying to look up the customer’s contact info, as I approached the door of Fresh Brews, seeing it in my periphery. What I didn’t notice was the person I nearly crashed into when we both reached for the door at the same time.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” my victim shouted, and my head whipped up at the sound. Oh, fuck, that voice . . .
As I stared at him, at his gorgeous lips and flowing hair—long on the top, dyed a very fashionable blond, and shaved on the sides—and perfect twink body, I knew I was looking at my teenaged wet dream personified, my unrequited high school crush, my fantasy come to life.
“No, p-please, it was my fault,” I stuttered. Dammit to hell. I cleared my throat. “Atlas St. James?”
Beautiful sage-green eyes set off with black eyeliner and bright purple eyeshadow that made my heart flutter widened. And the minute I saw recognition flash in them, he inexplicably and adorably blushed. Fucking blushed. “Miles Johnson?”
I smiled at his reaction, and my dick took notice. Shit, I could not get hard in these jeans. Think of horribly boring things. Tile grout. Paint trays. Invoicing. Yep, that did the trick. “Guilty as charged.” I gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s been, what—twenty years?”