Chapter Two
Allen Black logged out of his computer, waited for the screen to confirm, and then pulled his headset off. The call center was winding down as shifts changed. A few people were still on calls, their voices polite. Others were packing up, talking about dinner plans and weekend shifts.
Allen stood, grabbed his jacket, and checked his phone.
Three percent battery. He locked it and shoved it into his pocket.
He didn’t need it for the walk, as the café was only ten minutes away, and he’d been going there since he was eighteen.
He could get there with his eyes closed.
He slid his chair in, nodded at his supervisor on the way out, and walked outside.
The cold air hit his face and woke him up more than the last hour of work had. The sidewalk was damp from the earlier rain, and Allen sighed as he set off at a steady pace, hands shoved into his pockets.
Work had been the usual. People angry about their bills or angry about delays, or people who started the call angry and ended it angrier.
Allen didn’t take it personally anymore.
He’d learned how to keep his tone even and his voice calm, how to say the same sentence ten different ways until the customer finally understood it.
He’d developed a thick skin, and the abuse bounced off him now.
Still, by the time he clocked out, his head felt full, and he needed to take a few deep breaths to settle himself.
He kept walking and tried not to think about the silence waiting for him at home. The apartment was small but clean, and at times a little too quiet. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends. He had plenty of friends, but it just wasn’t the same as having someone to call his own.
Allen had dated once in high school. Properly dated. Lucas had been in his year, and for a few months Allen had thought he’d finally found what everyone else seemed to have so easily. Someone to text. Someone to sit with at lunch. Someone who looked at him and made him feel like he mattered.
It had ended the way a lot of teenage relationships end. Lucas had gone to college in another city, and Allen had stayed. They’d tried long distance for a few weeks, then the replies got slower, the calls got shorter, and one day Lucas had said, “I think we should just be friends.”
Allen had agreed, and he’d even meant it.
It made sense, but it had left a gap he hadn’t expected.
After that, he’d done what his friends did.
Nights out at clubs. A few hookups that started with a smile and ended with Allen staring at a ceiling he didn’t recognize, wondering why he felt worse instead of better.
He wasn’t judging anyone who liked that.
It just never satisfied him. Not really.
He liked flirting and the attention it got him, and he liked feeling wanted for an hour or so, but he wanted something that lasted past the end of the night.
Someone who asked how his day had been and actually wanted to hear about it, someone who didn’t treat him as a quick fuck.
The anniversary of his parents’ death had been a week ago. He’d bought flowers and taken them to the cemetery. He’d still felt the absence. Missed seeing and talking to them and it added to the loneliness that had been building inside. It made him want something steady. Someone who stayed.
When Allen reached the café, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The place smelled of coffee and pastries, and Allen’s stomach rumbled.
He looked around and saw a couple sitting by the window with their laptops open.
Someone was studying at a corner table, highlighter in hand, reading whatever they had in front of them.
The music was low enough that you didn’t have to raise your voice to be heard.
Allen went to the counter and ordered a chai latte. He paid, waited, and accepted the cup with both palms wrapped around it. He turned around and scanned the room, and saw his friends were already there.
They’d claimed the bigger table near the back. The same table they’d used for years. Sometimes Allen wondered if they’d still be meeting in places like this when they were forty. Maybe. Probably. Some friendships stayed while others drifted away.
“Alright, look who’s finally free,” Jamie called as Allen approached.
Jamie was the loudest of them all. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and always joking. He worked in construction, and it showed. He also had kind eyes, even when he pretended he didn’t.
Allen slid into the seat beside him. “I wasn’t late.”
“You’re late to everything,” Jamie said, grinning.
“Only to the boring stuff.”
“That’s everything,” Jamie replied, and the table laughed.
Across from Allen, Mark raised his cup in a small salute. Mark always looked put together. Great haircut, steady job, nice apartment. The one who could stop an argument before it turned into something else.
Beside Mark sat Connor, who looked tired. Connor worked in IT and had a permanent frown. He said it was from dealing with idiots who barely knew how to turn a computer on. Connor glanced at Allen’s drink. “Chai,” he said. “Still twelve.”
“It tastes good,” Allen told him.
Connor shrugged. “If you say so.”
They talked for a bit about nothing. Work complaints. A new café opening down the road. Jamie’s boss being an idiot. Mark’s car making a noise he couldn’t place. Connor having to explain to someone that turning it off and on wasn’t the same as fixing the problem.
Allen laughed at the right moments, enjoying their company. Mark’s phone lit up on the table, and he checked it and smiled.
Connor noticed. “Laura?”
Mark’s smile softened. “Yeah. She’s sending me photos of the dog because apparently he’s ‘missing me.’”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “He’s a dog.”
“He’s a dramatic dog,” Mark said.
Allen watched them without meaning to. The easy way Mark talked about it. The way it didn’t feel like a big deal because it wasn’t. It was just his life.
Jamie leaned back in his chair. “Megan’s got me doing that stupid couples challenge thing,” he said. “You know the one? Where you answer questions about each other and then compare them.”
Connor made a face. “Why would you agree to that?”
“Because I love her and because if I say no, she’ll do that thing where she gets quiet and then I’m the bad guy.”
Mark laughed. “You are the bad guy.”
Jamie pointed at him. “See? Exactly.”
Connor checked his own phone and typed a quick message. Allen didn’t need to ask who it was. Connor had been seeing someone for months. A woman from his office. He didn’t talk about feelings much, but he’d started leaving early on Fridays.
Allen kept his hands around his cup. The warmth was gone now, but he held it anyway because he needed something to do with his hands.
Jamie noticed first. “Are you alright?” Jamie asked.
Allen forced a small smile. “Yeah.”
“No,” Jamie said. “That wasn’t a yes. That was a dodge.”
Connor looked up, eyes narrowing. Mark’s smile faded as he focused on Allen. Allen let out a breath. He didn’t want to make the night about him. He never did. But he also didn’t want to sit there feeling like a spare part while they talked about their girlfriends and weekend plans.
“It’s nothing,” Allen said. Then, because they were watching him and not letting it go, he added, “Just… same old.”
Mark leaned forward a little. “Same old what?”
Allen shrugged. “Being single. Watching all of you pair off and make it look easy.”
Jamie snorted. “It is not easy.”
“For you, maybe,” Allen muttered, and the words came out sharper than he meant. He softened his tone. “I don’t know. I’m tired of it.”
Connor’s gaze stayed on him. “Tired of what? Hookups?”
Allen hesitated, then nodded. He didn’t need to spell it out in detail. They knew. They’d seen him come out with them. They’d seen him try. They’d also seen him leave early.
“I keep thinking it’ll be different,” Allen said. “That maybe I’ll meet someone and it won’t be just for a night. But it always turns into that. And I’m not built for it. I’m not.”
Mark’s voice was gentle. “You don’t have to do that, Al.”
“I know,” Allen said. “But what else is there? Apps are awful. Bars are the same people doing the same thing. I’m not exactly… I don’t know.” He huffed a laugh with no humor. “I’m not a kid. I’m not the guy everyone turns to look at.”
Jamie’s face tightened. “That’s not true.”
Allen lifted his shoulders. “You know what I mean.”
Connor tapped his fingers on the table and said, “You’re not going to like this, but you’re also picky.”
Allen blinked. “I’m not picky.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “You are. You want someone who wants long-term. You want someone who’s nice and kind. You want someone who doesn’t play games. That’s picky.”
“That’s not picky,” Allen said. “That’s just basic shit for a relationship.”
Connor looked unimpressed. “In theory. In practice, you’re looking for a rare combination.”
Mark nodded slowly. “Connor’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find it.”
Jamie leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “And it doesn’t mean you settle for any guy who seems nice.”
Allen’s throat tightened a little at that, which annoyed him. He hated feeling emotional about it. “I’m not settling,” Allen said.
Jamie’s eyes focused on Allen. “Good.”
Mark gave him a small smile. “The right man will come along. You just… you have to be in places where that kind of man exists.”
Allen let out a short laugh. “Where is that? The long-term relationship aisle in Walmart?”
Connor’s mouth twitched. “Probably near the candles.”
Jamie laughed loud enough that the couple at the window glanced over. Allen smiled, and it was real this time, but the hollow feeling stayed underneath it. They meant well. They always did, but when you went home alone night after night, it got depressing.
Jamie nudged Allen’s shoulder. “Look. You’re twenty-two. You’ve got time.”
Allen swallowed. “Yeah.”
“And you’re a good guy,” Jamie added.
Mark nodded. “You are, and you actually want something real, not just one night. That matters.”
Connor said, “It’ll happen when you stop searching for it.”
Allen gave him a look. “That might be the most annoying thing you’ve ever said.”
Connor shrugged. “True though.”
Allen glanced around the café, mostly to break the moment.
It was busy now. A few people had come in, shaking off the cold, ordering drinks and finding seats.
At the table near the front, a man sat alone with a laptop open and a half-drunk coffee.
He looked focused, with tense shoulders and a clenched jaw.
Not someone waiting for friends. Someone working. Allen looked away again.
He turned back to his friends, forcing himself into the conversation as Jamie started ranting about the couples challenge again, acting as if it was torture while smiling the whole time. Allen listened and laughed when it was funny, but underneath it all, he kept thinking the same thing.
He just wanted one person. Just someone who wanted to be with him, who laughed at his jokes, and smiled when they saw him. Someone who stayed for longer than a night.