Chapter Two
chapter two
CALLUM
T he incessant knocking at my front door is irritating, but I know who it is. Only Rachel, my best friend, would knock on my door without a break in the rhythm. It’s her thing. I pull open the door with a scowl I don’t mean and she ducks under the arm that I have up to block her from getting in. Well played, madam.
“Wiz, I need a favor.” Ugh. Tell your best friend you want to be a wizard when you grow up one time when you’re eight and she’ll never let you live it down.
Rachel bustles around my kitchen, taking out K-cups, mugs and creamer. “Help yourself,” I joke, sitting at my kitchen bar to watch her. There’s no need to stop Rachel from getting her coffee fix and no need to stop her from going through my cabinets.
“Shut it, Wiz. I didn’t get coffee before work this morning and you were closer and cheaper than Starbucks.”
“What is this favor you need?” She glances up at me guiltily and busies herself adding liquid creamer to my coffee. I know that look. Dropping my head, I ask, “What did you do?”
“Nothing … bad,” she answers haltingly.
Of course not. Rachel is back to meddling. The look she just gave me is the same one she gave me when she set me up with my college boyfriend. And my hookup after him. And my most recent boyfriend. My best friend is not a great matchmaker, that’s for sure.
My college boyfriend was probably the best of the bunch, but he was so deep in the closet, he was snacking on Turkish Delights. I’ve been out and proud since I was fifteen—I didn’t plan to spend the rest of my life hiding who I love. He kept promising me he would come out; he just wasn’t ready. I would have been fine with that if he hadn’t told me he needed to date a woman to keep up appearances. I drew the line there. Took me two years to get over that heartbreak.
Now here she was again, trying to pair me with someone else. It’s my own fault. I introduced her to her future husband, my old college roommate. Rachel and I went to high school together and kept in touch while in college—a feat since she was in California and I was in Virginia. I kept talking up my roommate, Victor, saying he would be perfect for her, because he was. They liked some of the same music, movies, had the same weird sense of humor and the same good heart.
When I introduced them, it was almost love at first sight. From there, she transferred to Virginia and the three of us have been inseparable ever since.
She’s been trying hard to give me that same happily ever after, but I need her to not. No offense to her, but she’s terrible at it.
“Who is he?” I ask, not wanting to beat around the bush .
“A co-worker. But Wiz,” she starts and I give her the dirty eye. “ Callum ,” she amends. “He’s really sweet. Funny. He likes that stupid show you obsess over. And the books that go with it.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk around the bar to get my coffee. “I am not obsessed with Game of Thrones. ” Really, I’m not. “That doesn’t mean we’ll be a good match.”
“No, it doesn’t. But, I don’t know. He seems like someone you would click with. And he has the type of dad bod you like.”
That perks me up a little. I do love a man with a dad bod. I tend to look twice at a man with a few extra pounds.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I sigh at both the delicious liquid caffeine and at my best friend. “His body doesn’t make me want to date him. I don’t know if I even want to date anyone. I’m just chilling, you know?”
“I know. But I think you’ll be good for each other. Look,” she says, rinsing her empty mug and placing it in the dishwasher. “A few of us from work are having dinner tonight over at Chasta’s.” That has my attention. I love Chasta’s. Rachel, Victor, and I had dinner there a few times and I love it. The food is delicious and the atmosphere is nice. “Meet us there at eight. Please?”
“Can’t. I have a deadline.” As an animator, I can work from home—which I do four out of five days a week—but I can get my work done at any time. As long as it’s in before the deadline, I can take as little or as much time on it as I’d like.
Rachel’s shoulders drop and she pegs me with pleading eyes. “Oh. Well, I told him you’d be there tonight. Should I tell him you can’t make it?”
I huff and give her a look. “You’re the worst.” She knows I can never say no to her when she gives me puppy dog eyes. Rachel has had me wrapped around her finger since we were kids. She comes over to give me a hug, knowing she’s getting her way. My best friend sucks.
“You’re the best, Wiz. I promise, he seems like a good guy. Even if the two of you don’t hit it off as a couple, you two can be friends. He just moved here a few months ago. He doesn’t have any queer friends, so it would be nice to show him some of the spots you take me and Vic to.”
I do know the queer community here. Not like we have a mailing list or anything, but I get word when there’s a party or meet and greet or brunch.
Rachel rushes to the door, then peers over her shoulder at me. “It means a lot that you’re doing this, Callum. I know I’m always hooking you up with people and I don’t always make the right choices, but I’m trying. I want you to have what Vic and I have. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together because of you.”
Even when I want to be pissed at her for meddling, I can’t when she puts it like that. “Anything for you, Rach. But seriously, if this doesn’t work out, can you?—”
“Yeah, I’ll drop it. But I have a feeling about him. I think he’s it.”
“Who is he ?” I ask, still not knowing the mystery man’s name.
“Hudson. Hudson Perry. Look him up on our company website. We just took updated photos.” With that, she breezes out the door, leaving me standing in the kitchen with a lump in my throat and a cold cup of coffee.
To keep from stalking the man I’m supposed to meet tonight, I finish my animation. It’s not due for another week, but the quicker I get it done, the quicker I can get a new assignment and a bonus for meeting and exceeding my work goals. The character I’m designing is a gay superhero, something I jumped at because I wish I could have seen someone like this when I was a kid. I wish someone would have wanted to be more inclusive so I would have known there was nothing wrong with my sexuality, regardless of what society may think.
After that’s done and I have nothing else to do, I decide to get my workout in. I try to run at least three times a week to stay in shape and be active. I’ve already had my exercise for the week, but I figure anything that will keep me away from checking what this Hudson looks like will be fine.
There’s no real reason why I’m not looking. I guess I want to surprise myself.
At around seven fifteen, I figure I’ve wasted enough time fucking off and playing around with a freelance project and get up to shower for dinner. I text Rachel to let her know I’ll be there about ten minutes before eight and she sends me back a thumbs up. Weird, but I won’t question it.
I think about not washing my hair and just tying it in a ponytail, but Chasta’s is a more upscale restaurant and I don’t want to embarrass myself. As it is, I have blown dry my hair, which takes me entirely too long. Every time I have to go through this, I think about cutting my hair and being done with it, but I like it. It’s lush and long and I like how it feels when a man glides their hands through it, pulling as they fuck me.
Okay, not where I want my mind to go. I shake it off and finish my hair so I can get dressed. Instead of leaving it down, I decide on a bun at the top of my head, to better show off my face and jaw line. I might not be intentionally trying to make Hudson mine, but I want him to have a good look at me. I go for a burgundy suit with a black shirt and black loafers. The suit is fitted, so I don’t appear like I’m going to homecoming or something. It fits the vibe of the restaurant without looking like I’m trying too hard.
When I’m heading out of the door, I check my phone and see that I might end up late. I see a text from Rachel.
Rachel: Hudson made the reservation. Give the hostess his name when you get there. We’ll already be seated.
Yeah, I’m sure they will. As it stands, I’ll be about five minutes late, since I had to do my hair. I hate being late. This does not bode well with me keeping my hair.
There’s no traffic, so my Uber driver makes it to Chasta’s at exactly eight. Not too bad but I like being early. Oh well, can’t change it now.
I button my jacket as I head into the restaurant, glancing down at myself to make sure I’m presentable. When I get inside, I give the ma?tre d Hudson’s name. Smiling at me, she says, “Right this way, sir. Your date is already seated. If you’ll follow me.”
My date? I don’t get a chance to ask what she means when she turns on her heels and walks to the back of the restaurant. I swear, Rachel is going to be in so much trouble if?—
The hostess stops at a table in the back and holy fucking shit. This is Hudson? This tall, tan, handsome, and stacked man is my date? And he brought me flowers? I take it back. Rachel won’t be in any trouble at all.