Chapter 4 - Deacon
DEACON
Seeing Bailey and Malcolm was the best thing I could have done to calm me down for tonight.
The conversation with Evan didn’t hurt, either.
I’m extremely nervous about being a tongue-tied disaster for this date, and they were exactly what I needed to warm-up to the idea of socializing.
Even Millie didn’t agitate me as much today as she sometimes can.
I took all my meds before I left the apartment.
I’ve noticed some small differences from them in the last few days.
Along with the lack of cravings, I also find myself not caring so much when one of my twenty-two year-old team members barges into my office to vent about whatever phone call or email most recently sent them into a spiral.
My goal for tonight is to meet a person in a more traditional environment and hopefully hit it off and get laid—emphasis on the getting laid.
The less talking, the better my chances.
At this point, I don’t even care what he looks like.
He seemed like a decent guy when we texted, and if he’s not lying about his age and having a career in tech, I don’t really care if he’s tall or short, skinny or big, nerdy or cool.
If he’s polite and doesn’t seem like he’d leave me to fend for myself in an emergency room at three a.m., he’s exactly the type I’m looking to hook up with tonight.
If my conversation in the kitchen with Evan earlier is any indicator, I’m not the best at interpersonal communication, but I am trying because he tries so hard.
The best thing about my last roommate Ryan was he was as bad at talking as I am.
The expectations were low all around. I know deep down that Evan’s better for me in general for a hundred reasons but mainly because he has a way of easing me out of my comfort zone in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s forcing it.
My therapist and Bailey think he’s good for me, too.
Although Bailey, who probably knows me best, wants me to date him.
Still, I’d rather keep my dating life outside my apartment. Since I’ve never technically dated before, I have no idea how this is going to go or what the hell I’d be like as someone’s plus one. I have a feeling there’s a learning curve.
With a deep breath, I enter the sushi restaurant just as the rain that’s been threatening all day finally drops from the sky.
When I give the hostess my name, she tells me I’m the first of my party to arrive and seats me at a reserved spot at the sushi bar.
I order a cup of hot tea to sip and get lost in watching the chefs prepare the food.
I enjoy cooking, and I mentioned that along with my love of seafood to my date on the app where we met. I’ll give him points for the venue. It’s not too loud, not too quiet, and there’s a lot to look at.
I’m picking at a bowl of shelled edamame when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder.
I turn and nearly choke on a soybean when I come face to face with my fucking boss. Well—technically not my boss—he’s Evan’s boss, and I don’t report to him directly but he’s the big boss. Polytech’s CEO. Isaac Sullivan. Who, by the way, is extremely—and I’m not exaggerating—hot.
He frowns slightly, like he’s trying to place me, but he came over to me, right?
I offer my hand and force out a greeting. “Nice to see you,” I say, checking over his very broad shoulder to look at the door.
He shakes my hand, holding it a bit longer than I’d expect. “You, too.” His frown deepens. “Have we met in person?”
I blink several times, refocusing on his face.
His dark eyes are striking and unmistakable, set into lean, handsome features beneath casually wavy brown hair, a shade or two lighter than mine.
He has precisely trimmed and well-cared for facial hair that sets off his strong jawline and cheekbones.
So good looking. “A few times,” I say. “Deacon Forester. I work in software development. Green team?”
“Oh. Jesus.” He lets go of my hand and shoots a glance around the restaurant.
I’m confused.
And then it hits me. Brown hair, gray shirt, black jacket, 6’2. Have we met in person?
This is my date.
Fuck.
Isaac Sullivan meets men through dating apps?
And he picked me?
I don’t know what the hell to think right now. “Can I buy you a drink?” I ask, and I’m pretty sure I can thank all my new meds for that one.
He takes half a step away. “This is—probably not a good idea.”
“A drink?”
“I—” He swallows and looks around again.
Then he rubs a hand over his face and sighs.
“You’re right. Fuck it. I could use a drink.
I’m sorry about this. Hazards of online dating, am I right?
” After signaling a server who immediately snaps to attention upon seeing him hold up his hand, Isaac orders an old-fashioned before taking the stool next to mine.
He gives me a smile that makes him look very uncomfortable, but I could be misunderstanding.
There’s no rule that I know of at Polytech that says employees can’t see each other outside of work, so I’m not sure what the problem is—or if it’s me.
“I also apologize for not knowing your name,” he says.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I say. “It’s a big company.”
“Green team, you said?”
I nod. “Team Leader.”
He studies the sushi chefs the way I did when I first sat down.“And how are things going over there?”
I try for a joke. “You know, it’s a lot of math.”
He cracks a grin and slides his gaze briefly my way. “I bet.”
“What’s your job like?” I figure I’ll come across better if he does most of the talking.
“A lot of meetings. Light on the math.”
“Do you enjoy it?” I ask.
“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
I nod.
“What about you?” he asks. “Is Green team your dream job?”
“Are you the guy to talk to if it’s not?”
He laughs. “Maybe I’d rather talk about something else.”
I guess I asked for that.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Here,” I say. “Well, Albany. You?”
“Tacoma. Originally, but we moved here when I was six. Monterrey.”
“Ah.”
Too quickly, there’s a lull, breaking the rhythm of the conversation. I scour my brain for topics and keep coming back to the one other thing I know we have in common. Evan.
That’s where I get stuck because I’m not bringing him up.
I’m attracted to Isaac. I’d argue that most people who are attracted to men, would be.
He’s the whole package even if he’s way out of my league if we’re grading on power and wealth.
If we were in a club, and I were high, I’d invite him into the men’s room, no question, but out here in the civilized world, I’m clueless as to how to bridge our obvious gap.
His drink is served. He takes a sip and asks, “Have you been here before?”
“No.”
He adjusts in his seat, and our knees bump. He startles at the contact like I’m an electric fence. Without thinking, I put my hand on his thigh and press. “You can bail. Don’t worry about it.”
He looks from my hand on his leg to my face. “I—I don’t want to bail,” he says. “But if you do…”
I shake my head. Now that I’ve got my hand on his leg and can feel the tense hunk of muscle beneath his pants, I’m willing to give this a shot.
“So this is okay?” he asks.
“It’s…” I shrug and look around. “It’s awkward. Not you, but—the whole date thing. I don’t normally do this.”
“What do you normally do?”
“What I’ve been doing isn’t really working for me anymore. Thought I’d change it up.”
“Same,” he says. “And look at how that went.”
I let out a soft laugh. “What do you normally do?”
“Want shit I can’t have.”
“That’s your kink?”
He huffs, but his eyes sparkle. “Apparently.”
Swallowing hard and gratified that the kink question was met with a laugh and not a look of horror, I go for it. “What do you do with a sure thing?”
He holds my gaze, and I fight to keep mine steady when everything in me wants to shy away from the storms I see in his. “Take it for granted. Probably.”
“What would that look like?”
He grins and drops his gaze in a gesture that almost reads as shy. “Your dimples…”
My dimples are the only thing I’m willing to thank my mother for. The dimples. “You like them?”
“Does anyone not?” he asks.
“No. They do a lot of the heavier lifting.” To be fair, I didn’t come up with that line on my own. Some guy said it to me once, and I tend to go back to it when someone compliments my dimples.
Isaac laughs again and reaches for his drink. “I can’t remember the last person who made me laugh.”
“It might just be the situation. I’m not very funny.”
“Maybe you make me nervous,” he says.
“We can’t both be nervous.”
“It might say CEO on my work badge, but you’ll have to take my word for it when I say I’m a mess. But you can’t tell anybody that.”
My hand is still on his thigh, and I tighten it, leaning in. The sudden impulse to kiss him is too strong to resist, despite the meds.
He sees me coming, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. I brush his mouth lightly with mine and hover there, close enough to feel the air his lashes move as he blinks. “How’s this gonna work?” he asks, his voice low and intimate.
Now we’re in more familiar territory. All told, the conversation was fine—good if I’m grading myself. It was an A plus from me. Words don’t always come so easy. Maybe it’s because I know who he is? But now I want to know him more biblically—if that’s still an option.
“However you want it to.”
“Are we talking, skip dinner and head back to my place?”
Okay, I like him. He speaks my real language. “If you don’t mind.”
“One second.” He presses his mouth to mine, harder than I did to him.
Sparks zip down my spine when he licks at the seam of my lips, and they part for him.
The moment our tongues touch, heat floods me.
A strong pulse in my groin makes my cock jerk to life, and I dig my nails into his leg.
He pulls away suddenly, and I nearly fall off the stool in an effort to keep my mouth connected to his.
“Works for me.” He fishes some cash out of his wallet and drops it on the sushi bar. “Let’s go.”