Chapter Ten
Liam
I CAN SENSE he's here even before he emerges from around the corner, and I've no idea how. The breeze grows a little warmer, the street lights shine a little brighter. Either that, or I just heard car doors slamming somewhere in the distance. Fifteen minutes late.
"Alright, gotta go. Have a good one," I say as I push off the wall outside Skin on Skin and fist-bump Milo, who's already replaced me a long time ago. Unlike Xander, he was on time.
I head down the night-bathed alleyway toward where I heard the car door, and sure enough, a head full of blond messy hair appears in the distance, absorbing light, giving him a gold halo.
If he's half-asleep, he has himself to blame.
I did offer we meet before my shift, or on a different day altogether, but I'm quickly learning once Xander sets his mind on something, there's no talking him out of it.
And what he set his mind on is a date. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, even if it's just a non-committal late night walk, but once we get close enough and I can make out his familiar features surrounded by the golden halo, I find it hard to keep a straight face, my lips insistent on forming a semi-grin.
"You're late," I say the second he's within earshot.
Xander smiles his usual million-bucks smile, most of his teeth showing. "Fashionably." He stops and waits for me to reach him before turning around, so that we're both facing the direction we're going—toward a more civilized area of the city.
I glance at his perfectly fitted black jeans and what looks like a freshly ironed purple button-up with sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows and I wonder if fashion had indeed something to do with his timing. If it did, it was time well-spent.
"Where are we going?" I ask. Despite the lazy pace he set, his steps seem to have a purpose.
"It's a surprise."
"I don't like those."
"I figured. Which is exactly why I won't tell you."
I chuckle. Somehow that doesn't surprise me.
The night is unusually warm, a soft breeze providing waves of pleasantly fresh air, and the traffic is minimal as we turn one corner, then another, and another.
The first corner is wordless. The second, mute. By the third, we're bordering on awkward. And I can't say that surprises me either—I haven't been dating for years now, so my game is non-existent, but even if that weren't the case, what do we even have in common, anyway?
Finally, the silence is too much even for me. "So, what do you do for a living?"
He turns to look at me, head tilted down, eyebrow raised. "Really?"
"Okay, then. What do you study?"
Nothing.
"Hobbies? Pets? Ex-wives?"
That at least earns me a chuckle. "And what am I applying for, exactly? If it's a job position, the personal inquiries are inappropriate. Unless it's some other type of position."
I don't let the sudden heat radiating from his eyes faze me. "C'mon now. Even Enigma got cracked. You can't be that hard." And before he can spin the last part—and by the way his face lights up, it's clear he's about to—I add, "At least tell me what it is that you train. You promised me that much."
"Well, actually, that's where we're going."
I scrunch my forehead and shoot him a questioning glance.
Xander shrugs. "Why would I tell you if I can show you? Immersion and all that."
I sigh and go back to looking ahead. Partly because the conversation is clearly going nowhere, partly to figure out where we are going.
Resigned, I brace myself for another stretch of silence, but Xander cuts it before it can settle.
"Why are you so uptight, anyway?" My head snaps up and I'm ready to argue, but Xander continues, "Okay, then.
Rigid. Tense. Proper. Can we just, I don't know—" he lifts both his arms, palms up and closes his eyes, tilting his head up like he's sunbathing in the moonlight, "—be for a while? "
I take him in, the image he makes, with his skin almost luminous in the dark, accentuating his features, his sure, but sluggish stride, confident, but not cocky posture and that halo around his head.
Maybe. Maybe I could just be for a moment or two, but I find myself glancing under his feet every few seconds, making sure he doesn't trip and fall, walking with his eyes closed.
Yeah, maybe I am a little tense and rigid.
"I can hear you think," he calls me out without looking at me.
I chuckle. "Yeah? What am I thinking about?"
He drops his pose and walks normally now, pointing to another turn we're apparently going to take. "I don't know. Bouncery things?" I laugh. "Okay. Music then." He makes a show of sizing me up and down. "You look like you're a musical soul. Let me guess. Techno? EDM?"
"Techno? Really? And here I thought you could read thoughts."
"I'm not a magician. Give me a clue. Favorite band?"
"Ducking Quacks."
Xander's step falters and he shoots me a The Fuck? look, the one that makes everyone look silly. Everyone except Xander. "Whating whats?"
I chuckle. "They're local. Trash metal. You wouldn't like them."
He looks up at the night sky for a second, pondering. Then, he says, "No, I think I can dig it. I totally know what trash metal is. It's…loud and stuff. We can go to a concert. Yeah, we're going to a concert," he agrees with himself. "When are they playing?"
His enthusiasm doesn't fail to crack me up, and once again I'm reminded how extremely different we are. And how there's a part of me buried deep inside that envies it. I turn to look into his eyes for a few beats, and he lets me. "Exactly how old are you, Xander?"
He wrinkles his nose. "Does it matter?"
I pause for a beat, figuring out the answer. "No. It doesn't. But I'm still curious."
"Well, in that case, twenty-two."
I nod, more to myself than to him. "That's what I thought. Well, I just turned thirty, so…"
"So…?" he prompts.
A prolonged sigh escapes me. "Let's just say I don't have your stamina anymore. Not that type of stamina," I add, after his mouth flies open without fail. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be doing…I don't know. Whatever it is twenty-two-year-olds do."
Xander sucks in his lips, trying not to burst out laughing. I can't say I blame him. "And what is that?"
"Not me, that's for sure."
Xander stops momentarily, and I follow suit, turning to face him.
And this time, I have nothing to cool off the heat radiating from his face as he clearly tries to spin my words into something he finds…
useful. And maybe I don't want to. Maybe I said them on purpose, because the way his eyelids drop to half mast, the way he licks his lip as he takes a step toward me is exactly what I needed to see, both for enjoyment, and to get out of the conversation that's been dangerously heading in the wrong direction.
He takes another step forward, and another, a bit too fast for me to get a grip and react, and before I can move an inch, he crashes into me, like he's drunk and I'm a wall. Fuck, I am getting old.
"Hey!" he points an accusatory finger at me.
I decide to feign ignorance. "What?"
"You were supposed to walk back, until you hit that wall"—he points behind me—"so that I can pin you do it and, you know, do stuff. Have you ever even seen a movie? Any movie?"
I bite the inside of my cheek, because his antics are fucking endearing.
I raise my hands in a placating gesture and walk back, hoping there's in fact a wall behind me, and not a dumpster, until I indeed hit the bricks.
"Like this? Did I do it right? Here"—I raise my hands and slam them against the wall, as if he's pinning me by my wrists—"you've backed me into a corner. "
He barely manages not to laugh, his acting skills failing once more. "Pfft. It doesn’t work if you do it. Moment's gone."
Grinning, I push off the wall and take three long strides to catch up with him. Once I do, he asks, "What did you do when you were twenty-two, anyway?"
I look up and do some math in my head. "Buds."
His brows furrow as he looks at me for the next few yards. "Buds," he repeats. "Buds. As in…." He looks me up and down with more diligence than ever. "As in, The Navy SEAL Buds, Buds?"
I stuff my hands into my pockets, the breeze on my skin suddenly chilly. "Yep."
"Ha! I knew it."
I chuckle. "Did you, now?"
"Well, I had you either as ex-military or law enforcement.
So I was half-right!" He's clearly pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling, and fuck if he's not alluring when he's like that.
Like a magnet I try to, but can't seem to move away from.
"So what happened? Why are you not a SEAL anymore?
Or…" His face falls, and I instantly miss the enthusiasm.
"Or am I not supposed to be asking that?
Shit. Sorry," he mumbles, cutting eye contact, his voice quiet.
I shake my head. "No, nothing like that.
Don't worry. I just…" I sigh. "So fucking stupid.
I went quadding with some guys from my team between deployments.
Got careless, crashed into a tree. Broke a few bones, tore a few muscles.
" I let out a self-depreciating laugh. "Nothing overtly serious, but…
That was two years ago, and I'm still not fully healed.
" I try to keep my tone steady and not dwell on the life I’ve left behind.
"Oh. I see," Xander says, his voice low, indicating it's one of those rare occasions he's actually serious. "Sorry. Are you… Planning to go back once you're healed?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Why not?"
I sigh. "It wouldn't really work. I'll never be as fit as I was back then. As fast. As agile. No, that door is already closed."
I make sure to look ahead, but from the corner of my eye I see Xander staring at me intently, eyes burning a hole in the side of my skull. "What?" I ask, once the stare becomes too heavy.
"I don't know. You look pretty agile to me," he says in his usual voice, and I laugh.
"Thanks, I guess. I try."