From the Inside Out Read online

  Table of Contents

  From the Inside Out

  Book Details

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  From the Inside Out

  TALYA ANDOR

  Shy, closeted college student and part-time barista Soren prefers to keep to himself, despite the urgings of family and friends to break out of his routines and live a little more. He likes things exactly as they are: school is going well, he has his study-buddy Sloane, long-distance best friend Liz, his online friend Tru, and a ridiculously hot boss to stare at longingly. It might not work for everyone, but it's working for him.

  Comfortable routine is upended the day Tru suddenly suggests they meet, and Soren finds himself uncharacteristically agreeing to coffee. When his date proves to be the last person he expects, a simple date is only the start of all the complications Soren has always tried to avoid.

  From the Inside Out

  By Talya Andor

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Emilia Vane

  Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

  This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  Second Edition August 2018

  First Edition Published December 2012

  Copyright © 2018 by Talya Andor

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684312290

  Print ISBN 9781684313600

  This story is dedicated to my Grandpa Bud, who always believed

  I could accomplish anything I wanted, and asked every time he

  saw me when he'd be able to read my published stories.

  I miss you, Grandpa.

  For Becki always, who is my strength and support.

  With gratitude to my father, for always telling me to do my best.

  To the family who loves me even if they can't quite understand.

  And to the lovely people who have been with this story since the

  beginning, and always told me I could get this far. Thank you.

  One

  The beginning isn't so hard; it's what comes after—that's the challenge.

  Soren Wilkenson stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, and then switched over to his history paper. He had it outlined, but needed more research to flesh it out. He still had a long way to go.

  A soft chime sounded over his speakers, recalling his attention to one of the open IM sessions in his other window.

  A paragraph. Finish a paragraph of the paper first. Soren knew he couldn't wait that long; he never could. He tabbed to the other screen.

  TruBishounen: Homework again?

  Dawntreader: You know it. Can never stay on top of the stuff.

  TruBishounen: *laughs* Well, full time work and school will do that to you.

  "Soren? Are you still online?"

  Soren started at the knock on his door and fumbled with his mouse. "Damn…Yes, Mom, I'm still online." He cast his mind over what could bring her to his door at this time of afternoon, when she'd be about to start dinner prep. "Did I forget a chore?"

  "No…can I come in?"

  Soren hesitated.

  Dawntreader: be right back, okay?

  TruBishounen: k.

  Dawntreader: brb

  LizTheGreat: sure

  Soren minimized his screens and turned from the computer, leaving the desktop awash in pale blue waves frozen in stiff crests. "Yeah, I guess."

  His mother Claire pushed open the door, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. Her eyes flicked over to the bland desktop screen, then to Soren. "Done with your homework?"

  Soren shrugged and flipped a book shut. "Not exactly," he said uncomfortably. He was twenty, but his mom still came in to check up on whether he had finished his homework or not. It was the price to pay for staying at home while he went to college. "What do you want to talk about?"

  Claire sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to smile reassuringly, but ending up somewhere near inquisitive. "Come on, Soren, do I need a reason to talk to my oldest son?" She was looking at his books now, the spines, reading the textbooks he had out for ostensible reference.

  "I really have to finish this paper," Soren demurred, shifting restlessly in his chair. He pushed himself idly back and forth, using the leverage of two fingers on the edge of his desk. "Can't we talk at dinner?"

  Claire's mouth twitched. "More like a late lunch for you." She sighed. "Well…it's the start of a new year."

  Soren's fingers itched. He was restless, ready to type, even if it was just to return to struggling over each sentence doled out for the non-inspiration of the history paper. He was also anxious, realizing he hadn't muted the sound on his computer, so he was glad his speakers weren't chiming with more instant messages. If there were so much as a single ping, his mother would know his online activities had nothing to do with a paper, history or otherwise.

  "I know, Mom," he replied, wondering where she was going with it.

  "And…" Claire paused, trying to braid her fingers together. "Well, Soren, you're a junior already and you still haven't picked a major that will really help you after college."

  "Not this again." It took a great deal for Soren to grow irritated with a subject, but his mother's endless fascination with his future—and its direct correlation with his college major—tired him. He'd already switched majors once, more as a result of his own inner promptings than the discussions his mother began and finished herself. "What's wrong with English?"

  "Oh…well…nothing…Still, you know Angie's majoring in Accounting. I just want to see you settled in something that will really help you. Cassie's only in high school, but she's active in the school paper and plans to go into journalism…" Claire broke off and bit her lip.

  Soren sat and fidgeted as he tried to figure out what response would satisfy her. After a moment, he sighed and raked a hand through the loose spill of his long dark hair. "Mom…"

  "I know." Claire hitched forward on the edge of the bed, as if she would get up to leave, but Soren knew it wasn't going to be that easy. "I'm butting in again."

  He shook his head. "I'll talk to a guidance counselor again, okay? I'm already carrying a full load this semester. At least my major's not Religious Theory anymore." He gave her a half-smile.

  Claire fussed with a fold of his comforter. "You've never given me much trouble, Soren, you know that…" She shook her head. "No, I mean…I'm not doing this to butt in, you probably think so, but I'm not…I want everything to go right for you. If…if you need to take an extra year in school to get the right major down, even that much would be fine."

  She had said all of this to him before, so Soren settled for a safe answer. "I know, Mom." His feelings were all jumbled up inside. Although he knew she was doing what she thought was best, she never took the time to try and understand him. He preferred it that way, in the end. There were some things he wasn't comfortable with his mother discovering, let alone trying to explain to her. His eyes flicked to his computer monitor
.

  "So," Claire said, in the light-hearted manner that heralded a change of subject. "Working with Sloane tonight, are you?"

  "You know I am, Mom." Soren gave her an appeasing half-smile. "She's picking me up."

  Claire tilted her head. "You know what I'm talking about, Soren." She rubbed her hands over her thighs, a nervous gesture. "Are you…going…with Sloane?"

  It took him a moment. "…Mom, no." Soren shook his head. "Just don't go there."

  "What?" Claire rocked back. "What did I say? What's so wrong with that?"

  Soren was still shaking his head, astounded, yet not quite. "Sloane and I are not together, okay? She's a friend, only a co-worker, really." He wasn't sure why he was trying to downgrade his friendship with Sloane, but vaguely thought that if he associated her with work to his mother, she'd let the subject drop.

  Claire raised her hands in a defeated gesture. "Okay. Got it."

  Soren turned back to his computer desk. "Mom…paper."

  Claire gave him a brief smile. "Right. And you need an early dinner…"

  "Or I won't get to work on time," Soren finished. He shrugged. "Thanks, Mom." He waited to hear the click of the door closing before bringing up all the chat windows on his screen again.

  Dawntreader: Back. Sorry.

  LizTheGreat: You got to go?

  Dawntreader: Soon, for work…kind of trying to write a paper now.

  Liz was a good friend, and there was no reason Claire shouldn't know he was chatting online with her…aside from the fact that she might ask if they were going out. Claire had been a little bemused over the past five years as to how he could have such pretty, nice girl friends and not want any one of them to move into a relationship closer than friendship. She'd get it eventually, just not—he hoped—any time soon.

  Soren opened the last chat window, the one he'd waited for.

  Dawntreader: Sorry it took so long.

  TruBishounen: S'okay, I had econ homework. Say…why don't we meet?

  Soren stared at the words on the screen until he thought they might burn into his eyes. It was such a simple, offhand suggestion, but what Tru didn't know was that Soren had made a career of avoidance. Even though they had been chatting on and off for months now, having originally met on an online community devoted to local gays/lesbians/bisexuals/whatever, they had kept their friendship online, and Soren liked it that way. They were past the heady first days where he'd been willing to stay up online all night chatting with Tru. Besides, he wasn't…that is to say, he didn't think he was ready to be that open with a part of himself he'd been hiding from everyone, especially his family, for so long. Tru's IMs, and others like his, were the reason that Soren was constantly looking over his shoulder when his family entered the room.

  TruBishounen: You there?

  Dawntreader: Yeah…I don't know.

  TruBishounen: Come on…we're both in Portland. And I know we probably go to the same campus.

  Dawntreader: What makes you say that?

  TruBishounen: ahh…well, some of the hints you drop. Without even meaning to.

  Soren's mouth quirked. He'd figured the same thing, that Tru went to his campus. It was either his, or the Portland State campus, and that was in the heart of the city, totally different territory.

  TruBishounen: You got quiet again. That a no?

  The blinking cursor confronted him, and Soren tried to clear his mind and looked to Liz's empty chat window. He had pictured meeting Tru more than once, although Tru was faceless in every scenario. He simply couldn't project anything onto the person he'd gotten to know over the past few months.

  TruBishounen: Come on, let's give it a try. But if you say no…I won't push anymore. I'll give up and won't mention it again.

  Dawntreader: That's nice of you. I guess.

  TruBishounen: Ahh, I guess I pushed my luck. It's just that I like you.

  Dawntreader: What, there's not enough guys you like to invite out?

  TruBishounen: Not like you.

  Soren hesitated, and then switched over to his history paper to contemplate the single paragraph he had just begun. It was true that he was afraid…but it was also true he'd had thoughts, more and more often, about the way to seek out a partner, someone safe—or at least meet with someone like him. He needed a friend who wasn't a girl. He needed someone who could show him the ropes.

  Soren's eyes flickered to his bottom task bar at the blinking message. Of all the guys he had met online, Tru was the one he trusted the most.

  Soren returned to the IM session.

  TruBishounen: Sorry…I guess I'm pushing too hard. Forget I said anything, okay? I didn't mean to creep you out.

  Dawntreader: No.

  TruBishounen: ?

  Dawntreader: No, you didn't creep me out.

  Soren typed with increasing confidence, although his fingers felt clumsy.

  Dawntreader: When would you want to meet?

  He moved to his other window, trying not to think too hard. He gave up on his history paper. He was going to have to get ready for work soon, anyhow. He saved and closed the paper and returned to IM.

  TruBishounen: Well, how about tomorrow?

  Dawntreader: I…guess that would be okay. Sometime before noon.

  TruBishounen: I'm glad you said yes.

  They decided on a comfortably public place. Soren signed off, not quite believing what he had done. Even though he was sure the guy wasn't a psychopath, it was something his parents—even his friends—wouldn't be able to understand. One just didn't meet with someone met online. Even though there were an increasing number of success stories from online dating services, there was the fringe factor to be considered. There was still a stigma attached to 'I met them online.'

  Soren dismissed those negative thoughts as he shut down his computer and stood, grabbing the work clothes laid out on the bed. He'd lived so much of his life as an observer, passively shaped by the opinions of those around him. It was past time to get out and do something for a change.

  *~*~*

  "So…wait, you met this guy online?" Sloane asked, bracing her hands on the cash register.

  Soren nodded, giving her a half-hearted shrug. He contemplated her with the appraisal his mother had certainly given her on more than one occasion. If he were going to date just anyone, Sloane would certainly be dating material. She was sweet and perky—good qualities for working at a coffee shop—and her heart-shaped face was framed with layered, bobbed blonde hair, her hazel eyes always sparkling. The two of them had started at their Starbucks store at approximately the same time, the summer before school. Soren had transferred from a Eugene store; Sloane had been a new hire. He had helped her out a lot in the beginning, especially with her espresso bar technique, and they had struck up a friendship based on that and common interests.

  One of those interests happened to be boys.

  The door chimed, and they looked up.

  "Ah, Lucas, it's just you," Sloane called out, still gripping the sides of her register and rocking back on her heels. "Get me all worked up, why don't you?"

  Lucas Daye entered the store dressed in neat khakis and a black polo shirt, his pale blond hair tied back at his nape. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, which wasn't surprising—Lucas usually brought homework with him to work, or clubbing clothes, or both.

  "Hey, Sloane. I really don't think you need me to get you worked up, huh?" He rounded the bar and nodded at Soren. "Is it the three of us tonight?"

  Soren busied himself tidying up the bar, polishing off espresso stains with a rag, before hustling to check the steamed milk. He left Sloane to answer the question and chat. Lucas gave Soren a terrible case of tongue-tied.

  Quite simply put, Lucas was one of the most gorgeous guys Soren had ever seen in person and up close. He was a perfect combination of a long, elegant face, strong cheekbones, a well-shaped nose, and sensuous lips. He was funny, friendly, and hot—and Soren couldn't manage to make himself say more than one or two words to him. />
  Not like it mattered.

  "Yeah, Becky is finishing up the mid-shift," Sloane answered.

  "Good." Lucas gave her a thumbs-up. "I've got the best team."

  Sloane swatted him in passing. "You're a tease."

  Laughing, Lucas edged past her into the back room. "But you like me like that."

  Soren bent his attention to the temperature of the milk, flicking his braid back when it threatened to spill over his shoulder.

  "You can stop trying to disappear, Mr. Invisible, he's in the back room now," Sloane said, returning to the cash register and throwing him a look that was half-sympathetic, half-wry. "God, he ties you up in knots, doesn't he? He sure does it to me too." She fanned a hand near her face.

  "At least you don't go mute," Soren shot back. He was pretty sure he and at least half the women on their crew had a crush on Lucas. It was mortifying.

  "I can't blame you. He's so hot!"

  The store doors chimed, and a pair of customers came their way, chafing their hands.

  After they were finished ordering, and Soren had placed their double-tall mochas on the counter, he wiped off the espresso bar and glanced in Sloane's direction. She was giving him a speculative once-over.

  "What?" Soren asked defensively.

  "So you're willing to meet this guy, this TruBishounen, a guy you've never met…but you're too shy to say more than monosyllables to Lucas, a real-life guy that you know you like."

  Soren felt himself flush. "When you say it like that, it sounds neurotic…" He shook his head. "It's totally different, Sloane. I already know Tru, even if I've never met him. It's easier for me this way. Lucas…a guy like him… Besides, he's really into girls, you know?"

  "I know. I'm just saying, if there were someone like Lucas, someone you liked…what would you do?"

  "Probably nothing," Soren said with a shrug. "I'm no good at being gay. Besides, someone like Lucas wouldn't even know I exist. You know? But Tru and I connect really well."

  "I guess," Sloane said, but there was doubt in her tone. In the next instant, she bounced on her toes. "Do you want me to be there? I mean, I could set myself up in the cafe with a couple of books and totally look like I was studying…"