From the Inside Out Page 2

  "What, to rescue me in case something goes wrong?" Soren said, laughing. "I think I can handle it. I'm a big boy, and we're meeting in a very public place. It's not like I'm going to go home with him or anything like that."

  Sloane nodded. "Especially if he turns out to be gross and old."

  Soren was quiet for a moment. "Well…I'm not really expecting him to be a prize," he confessed. "After all, I'm meeting a guy I met online." And he wasn't much of a prize, himself. It would work out, as long as he could meet someone like-minded.

  "Just let me know if you need a ride or anything."

  "Right."

  The door to the back swung open, and Lucas emerged carrying a till. Soren glanced at him, looked away, and glued himself to the bar. As usual, he would cling to it like a burr for the rest of the evening.

  What use was any sort of resolution when he couldn't even force himself to interact with people he knew? At least he was doing something different and breaking himself out of the rut he'd been living in. Sloane's words made him question himself, though. Was it enough?

  It didn't matter. It was a start.

  *~*~*

  The morning was brilliant and sun-dewed.

  A faint mist wreathed the streets, born from the unseasonal coldness of the morning, but it would burn off as the summer sun rose into the skies. It encouraged a brisk walk from Soren as he strode up the sidewalk, rubbing at his arms. It was early yet, but he liked the quiet of morning. It was an unconventional time for a date, but anything later would have clashed with his schedule.

  Soren was going to meet a man. He had taken a bit of extra care with his appearance that morning and ducked out of the house with hardly a parting word to his family. They thought he was meeting Sloane for a study session before classes. Soren swallowed a laugh before it could bubble up.

  He and Tru had settled on one of the few coffee places in the area, one they both knew. Soren had briefly considered suggesting the Starbucks where he worked, but had aborted that thought quickly. Even though Danice, their assistant manager, was gay, there was no assurance that the rest of the staff wouldn't look askance.

  That was one of the excuses Soren gave himself for not coming out. Besides, it wasn't as if he had any evidence to show for being gay. The defining feature was missing from his life: a relationship, or sexual experiences at the very least.

  But he wasn't meeting Tru for that, at least, not at first. This was the tentative overture of a blind date. They already knew each other. But why, then, had Tru suggested they meet, if not to see if they were compatible for something more? Even friendship would be good, but Soren wanted, almost expected, something more.

  He adjusted his backpack, shifting the load of books to a more comfortable position. The weight reminded him of the excuse he'd given his parents for leaving that morning. His pretext hadn't entirely been a lie, just a half-truth. After he'd met Tru, if things didn't go as well as he hoped, he could go to the center area of campus and study before his history lecture.

  That sparked him off on another chain of thought as he walked. Despite his mother's suggestion last night to change majors again, he didn't see the need. On the other hand, Sloane, or maybe it had been Liz, had remarked to him shortly after he'd changed his major that English was the one people picked when they had no idea what they were going to do after college.

  It was true. He didn't know what he wanted to do after school. His main goal was to get out of his parents' house. He needed a job for that, a better one than pushing coffee—he'd just never given the whole endeavor the attention and research it deserved. It took too much effort, and after all, wasn't he doing his part by working enough to support himself while he went to school, giving the rest to his father for living expenses?

  Soren arrived at the coffee shop in a completely different frame of mind than the one he'd set out with when he'd left the house. The edge of excitement had dulled as he'd considered his options, thought about meeting with the unhelpful guidance counselors and poring through the overwhelming amount of information at the career center. At least Angie knew what she wanted, which his mother cast up to him frequently. He had been so busy being the eldest, he'd reached twenty without knowing what he wanted for himself, subsumed in the needs of others.

  Soren pushed open the door of Java Shack and scanned the interior, but except for a barista wiping down the counter, the place was empty. They looked as if they had just opened.

  "Morning," the girl said to him with a cheery nod. She indicated the wide-open availability with a sweep of her hand. "Go ahead and seat yourself. Shannon should be out in a minute."

  Soren hesitated, before settling on a window seat, putting his back to the door. He didn't want to see Tru coming. What if he was disappointed?

  "Hi," said a sleepy voice to his left. The waitress, Shannon, gave him a smile that was perkier than she sounded. She reminded him superficially of Sloane in appearance, but her hair was longer and reddish-brown, and her eyes were bright green.

  "Good morning," Soren replied. "Do you serve cafe Americanos?"

  "Yeah, you want one?"

  "A tall and a croissant, if you have them."

  "Tall—you mean twelve-ounce?"

  "Yeah." Soren settled back in his seat when she departed, fidgeting for a moment, and then looking at his watch. He had come really early, in order to establish himself in unfamiliar territory. He thought about pulling out his history book, but knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. The sound of the barista rattling around at the bar was a familiar one, at least, and simultaneously distracting.

  When Shannon returned with his drink and croissant, Soren put more than the usual amount of concentration into measuring out the sugar and stirring it in. He heard the jingle of the bell over the door and his cheeks grew hot. He was a mess.

  "Hey…it's you, isn't it?"

  The voice was familiar. For a moment, it almost made sense, as if two pieces long out of joint had clicked into place. He had known Tru, after all, even in the impersonal realm of black text, so it made sense, in a strange way, that he should recognize his voice, even if he'd never heard him before. Then Soren felt his blood freeze, and he half-twisted over the back of his chair to take a good look at the man he had come to meet.

  "Soren." Lucas Daye sounded just about as shocked as Soren felt when he came to a halt at the edge of the table. "You…uh…wow." He put a hand to his forehead, clearly stunned. "You're…Dawntreader."

  Soren slouched into his seat. "Yeah." Oh God, something very loud in the forefront of his mind whispered, I knew this was a mistake.

  Lucas slid into the seat opposite him, appearing poised to flee at the first sign of danger. "So…uh…hi." Outside of the store, he wore his pale hair loose around his face, a few layers around his chin and the rest tapering down to his nape.

  "If I had known…" Soren swallowed his words. He wanted to say, I never would have agreed to meet you, but that was the whole point. He had agreed because he hadn't known. One fine-fingered hand lifted to brush his hair back in an unnecessary gesture. He forced a laugh, and it came out sounding rather choked. "Well, I wouldn't have suggested coffee for a meet-up."

  "Same here." Lucas looked uncomfortable, but he tried to smile. "So you're Dawntreader. Where did the name come from?"

  Soren looked at him levelly. "I…I don't remember." He shrugged. His face burned. He knew perfectly well—he'd read the Narnia books so many times that he had absorbed them into the fiber of his being. He also knew that Tru—no, Lucas—had only read the first book.

  Lucas chuckled over nothing in particular. "You know, when I was first getting to know you online, I thought you were a chick." He flipped open the paper menu and immediately became absorbed.

  "I remember," Soren said softly. He didn't call attention to the fact that Soren had thought the same, for the first few conversations they'd held. Eventually, TruBishounen had corrected the misconception once Soren's assumption had become clear, stating firmly that he was
not, in fact, a lesbian. His nickname, he'd explained, came from his self-stated dirty habit of watching anime on weekends and the fact a friend had called him 'pretty boy' once too often. After they had laughed at each other for the mistake, they'd really started to become friends.

  Soren had every single conversation saved. Once he went home he would probably go over each one, overlaying the persona of TruBishounen with the reality of Lucas. It was almost a painful thought, as if someone he knew and cared about had suddenly vanished from his life.

  Shannon reappeared, as if summoned, giving Lucas a bright, genuine smile she hadn't spared for Soren. "Want a little coffee to help you hit the books?" she offered, putting a hand to her hip. Flirting, the way everything female seemed to do around Lucas, whether or not it was conscious.

  "Yeah, I could do with something to wake me up," Lucas said, returning her smile. "Sixteen-ounce English Breakfast tea with room and a blueberry muffin."

  "Can do," Shannon replied, making sure to take his menu before glancing at Soren. "Anything else I can get you?"

  Soren shredded his barely-tasted croissant. "I'm fine." The words sounded forced, even to his own ears.

  Soren and Lucas looked at each other across the table. Soren straightened up from his slouch, eyes flicking away from Lucas's gaze. It was the longest he'd ever looked at Lucas, and he contemplated the hazel flecks he had seen in Lucas's eyes as he tried to figure out how to say this meeting was a mistake.

  "I never would have expected this," Lucas said awkwardly.

  "Obviously." The word slipped out of Soren's mouth, and he flushed, picking up his coffee and taking refuge in that for a moment. Then he said, without looking at Lucas, "You're not gay." The sure way Lucas flirted with the girls on their staff, with attractive female customers, was something that couldn't be faked. He had watched Lucas covertly enough to know his interest in women was genuine.

  He'd certainly thought about it enough.

  "No, I'm not," Lucas agreed. He waited to continue until Shannon, all speedy service, had deposited his tea and muffin before him and moved out of earshot once more. "I'm bi."

  "Really." Soren shredded his croissant some more. All the easy familiarity he'd had with TruBishounen was gone.

  Would it have been the same if he'd never met Lucas in person before today?

  Yes, he decided. Lucas was too damned good looking. It was one reason he'd been willing to meet someone he'd gotten to know online. In his mind's eye, whatever unformed appearance TruBishounen possessed, they were roughly on the same level.

  "I can't do this." With a soft chink, Lucas put his cup back onto the saucer.

  "Can't do what?" Soren asked, lifting his head in a startled gesture, but he had expected this. From the moment he'd laid eyes on Lucas, he had been waiting for him to say the words. He liked him too much, and it was impossible for Lucas to like him back the same way. Or, rather, he wanted him too much.

  He had liked TruBishounen.

  "This." Lucas waved his hand at empty air, the table between them, the awkward silence that had filled the spaces where conversation should lie. "I mean, I wanted to hook up with someone I didn't know. Know in person, I mean. This…well…I already know you, Soren."

  Lucas went beyond the realm of liking into 'could never have.'

  Soren pushed back a lock of dark hair that had unfurled from behind his ear. It was an excuse, and the two of them knew it. "Just the fact that we're both here means we didn't know each other at all."

  Lucas blinked and tried to smile. "It's not…well…I guess…" He took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is—"

  Soren interrupted his fumbling words. "Let me spare you. I'm not good-looking enough?" Or maybe not interesting enough. Soren was just the boy at the espresso bar, a good worker, really quiet, not someone interesting like Sloane.

  "Oh, absolutely, I don't date boys who aren't as pretty as I am," Lucas agreed, but the sarcasm withered on his lips. He stared. "You mean that. Well, I wouldn't call you plain—"

  "I would." Soren had been rejected enough that it was time to head one off at the pass. He had crushed on Lucas for too long, and it sucked the dream had to end like this. "Thanks for coffee."

  When Soren got to his feet, he dropped enough bills on the table to cover his own drink.

  "Soren, wait." Lucas pushed his tea away and started to get up.

  "I like you, Lucas," Soren said, shouldering his bag. His heart was leaping painfully against his ribs. "I don't want to stop liking you, so I think I'd better go." When he turned, the feeling coalesced in his belly like lead. He felt Lucas's eyes on him and caught the gaze of Shannon lingering by the counter. That made color rise in his face, at last, flooding his cheeks with humiliation. He'd taken a chance and look what it had gotten him.

  It didn't feel better to be the one rejecting, after all.

  Two

  The shushing hiss of steam filled the air, and a brisk clatter came from behind the bar at the St. Johns Starbucks store. They had a steady trickle of Thursday-afternoon clientele, and Sloane and Soren were kept busy while Monica bagged beans for a customer on the other end of the service island. It was enough to take Soren's mind off the spectacular failure of his morning. At least, it was until business slowed again.

  Soren folded his milk rag over the stainless steel railing after calling out the last drink. Sloane had been pestering him for details of his meet-up ever since they had started the shift, but he had only doled them out in bits and pieces. He turned and saw Sloane draped over the low green wall that separated the register from the bar area. He had divulged the most interesting detail yet just before their most recent rush.

  The steady buzzing chatter from the other end of the island ensured that Monica would be tied up with the order of beans, at least for a while.

  "So it was someone you know!" Sloane repeated, her voice louder to compensate for the noise of the bean-grinder.

  "Yeah, it's someone who works here."

  The door chimed, and they reflexively they snapped into position. This time, it was no customer.

  Aaron Fosmark entered the store with that assured swagger he put into every step. He looked them over suspiciously, as if they had been slacking instead of standing ready to serve the next customer. "Hi," he said with a brief nod, dismissing them in the same instant.

  He was fairly good-looking, but he had a nasty attitude. He was shorter than Soren's rangy five-eleven, somewhat small for a man at around five-seven, and had wavy-dark hair and a goatee that he kept neatly trimmed. He was in his mid-twenties and worked at their store while working on his graduate dissertation at Portland State as he tried to break into the publishing industry. He constantly complained about the dearth of hiring publishers in the area, but didn't seem willing to move to a state that had a bigger industry for it.

  "Hi, Aaron," Sloane said, smiling at him with superficial sweetness. They cordially loathed one another, on general principle as far as Soren could tell.

  Soren returned Aaron's nod. "Hi." As much as he disliked Aaron, at least Soren wasn't closing the store with Lucas again. That would have been positively mortifying.

  Aaron came around the food bar and disappeared into the back.

  "So, give," Sloane commanded. "Tell me, it wasn't him, was it?"

  Soren blinked at that. "No, of course not. It was Lucas."

  "Your blind date was Lucas?"

  Sloane's voice rose by about two octaves, and Soren hissed at her to shut up, gesturing at the swinging door to the back room.

  "Oh, like he cares. The only thing Aaron does in the back is count tills, roll joints, and read up on his latest anti-establishment literature. He's not going to come out here and actually supervise."

  "Be quiet, anyhow," Soren said with unusual force. He was still dwelling too much on that morning's embarrassment. "I don't want the whole world to know, all right? You're loud enough."

  Sloane gave a half-hearted swipe at him with a rag. "Whatever. I had no idea Lucas was
…I mean, he's always such a flirt…"

  "He's not gay. He said he's bisexual." Even then, Lucas had enough taste not to go for Soren.

  "Oh." Sloane thought about that for a moment. "Well, that explains it."

  Soren frowned at her. "Explains what?"

  "The way he…just the way he is sometimes," Sloane said lamely, gesturing. "He's not…I mean, he doesn't act completely straight sometimes. Like, in some of his mannerisms or the way he talks. But he's definitely not gay, not the way he checks me out and every other good-looking girl who walks through the door!"

  "Think a lot of yourself, don't you?" Soren teased her, brushing past to check the timers on the urns of coffee against the rear counter. "So tell me, how do straight people act exactly?"

  "I'm justified," Sloane retorted with a crooked smile. "And it's not a matter of straight as much as him agreeing with me that other guys are hot. So…I mean, what happened? Between you and him. Obviously not much, since you came in today with such a long face."

  Soren fiddled with the timer that hung from the regular brew, bouncing it up and down in his hand. "Nothing. I didn't even finish my coffee; I just left."

  "What?" Sloane looked shocked. "Why? You really wanted to meet this guy, didn't you?"

  The door to the back room swung open. "Don't you two have something better to do?" Aaron braced a till against his hip and glared at Soren, then Sloane. He jerked his chin up. "What's with you? Did you have a hot date or something?"

  "Hardly," Soren muttered, and retreated to the espresso bar. He shrank into himself at the thought that Aaron might have heard any part of their conversation, and wouldn't put it past him not to listen at the door.

  "Sloane, go check the floor," Aaron said shortly, moving over to the register and backing out of the cashiering screen so that he could insert his till. "Make sure it's clean and pick up any dishes."

  Sloane rolled her eyes at Soren and moved to comply. He gave her a brief grin in return and bent his attention to industriously polishing the stainless steel surfaces to keep them spotless. He preferred to fade into the background, which worked. The only ones Aaron really tangled with were Sloane, Lucas, and Danice. It was a personality conflict more than anything, because Aaron was an exacting shift supervisor, meticulous in every detail. Soren could respect it, even if he didn't like Aaron.