From the Inside Out Read online

  Once Aaron had cashed in, Monica returned with her customer and their large order of beans. Soren lingered at the bar, not wanting to have to brush past Aaron to check the coffee urns again—it was almost time to dump the old and brew the new.

  Sloane returned with a tub full of dishes and hefted them onto the counter.

  "All right, who wants to do dishes?" Aaron asked, once he had finished ringing the transaction.

  It was a rhetorical question and all of them had worked long enough with Aaron to know it.

  "I know," Aaron said, pointing his index finger at Monica like a gun. "You want to do the dishes."

  Monica, a painfully thin girl who attended a local high school, shrugged and grabbed the tub. "Fine by me."

  Sloane lifted a hand. "I want to cashier!" She cast a sidelong, mischievous look at Soren, who sighed. What she really wanted to do was pump him for more details, when all he wanted to do was forget that morning for good.

  "Then cashier," Aaron said. "There's some paperwork in the back that Michelle left over from this morning. And you…" Aaron turned his brown eyes on Soren.

  "I'm going to switch out the urns," Soren said swiftly. Right on cue, one of the urn timers went off.

  Aaron trapped it with a finger, turning it off. He glanced back to Soren, brows raised. "Be my guest." Then he turned and returned to the back room.

  "What an ass," Sloane said softly, once he was gone. She turned to Soren with expectant eyes.

  "Yeah, but you shouldn't say it where anyone could hear." Soren wrinkled his nose. He sounded like his mother.

  "I didn't!" Sloane replied, instantly indignant. "Now, come on. You were so excited."

  Soren pulled one of the square urns off its burner, moving it quickly but carefully over the sink. He pulled out the liter-measure, so that they could mark out what they dumped down the drain. "I was looking forward to it, and it was a meet-up, not a date."

  "Whatever." Sloane zeroed out of Aaron's cashier screens to open the mark-out menu. "Idiot. He's a shift super and he left his screen open before he left the floor. Lucky I'm such a nice person."

  Soren was silent while he measured out the remainder of coffee that hadn't survived the hour. Once he had given Sloane the figures and dumped it down the drain, he turned back to her, holding the urn loosely by its handles. "I was excited until I knew the person I'd been getting to know all this time was Lucas."

  "So?" Sloane made a face at him. "If I were you, I'd be even more excited, kid."

  Soren smiled briefly. Even though she was younger than he was, she still called him 'kid.' That was one of the fun things about Sloane, why he liked her so much—she treated him with complete insouciant informality. "It's difficult to explain. I…well, it's like the minute I realized it was Lucas, I knew I wasn't good enough for him."

  Sloane stared at him. "'Not good enough?' Don't be stupid. What does that mean, anyway?"

  "You're popular, Sloane," Soren said with a shrug. "I don't expect you to understand."

  Her brow wrinkled. She opened her mouth, but the door chimed, and a stream of people came in from the street, crowding before the register. Soren hurried to brew more coffee.

  By the time they had a moment to talk again, Aaron and Monica had returned to the floor. Soren was grateful for the busy afternoon. It kept his mind off the things he knew he couldn't have.

  *~*~*

  Lucas stared at the first few lines of his report for Applied Marketing Strategies and came to the realization that he'd reread his first paragraph several times without seeing it. It was no good. He might as well shut his laptop and come to terms with what else was on his mind.

  Even though he hadn't given Soren the brush-off yesterday, he felt bad. Guilty, rather. "Let me spare you. I'm not good-looking enough?"

  Lucas burned with the recollection, shamed. It wasn't that, not at all. He didn't even completely understand what he'd been about to do—or why. He'd never met up with someone he'd gotten to know online. He'd been looking to strike up something new and exciting, maybe going beyond the casual encounters he'd had in the past. By meeting Dawntreader, he thought he'd experience something bridging the flings he'd had before that had the added depth of their friendship. To meet him in person and have that person overlap with quiet, withdrawn Soren —a co-worker, a subordinate—had been more than a little disconcerting. So he'd begun an automatic brush-off.

  "I'm not good-looking enough?"

  Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed back from the computer desk. That half-resigned, half-angry look on Soren's face had stayed with him. "Well, I wouldn't call you plain…" Great response. Lucas cursed and got up from his chair. I am an idiot.

  "Yes, you are," said Lisa, lounging at the kitchen bar. "Especially if you're thinking out loud again."

  "How do you know I thinking out loud and not talking to myself?" Lucas countered, leaning against the wall by the kitchen bar and crossing his arms over his chest.

  Lisa Reilly, his roommate's girlfriend, had been there for the better part of the morning, as usual. He sized her up in a glance, as he did every so often when he actually looked at her. Lisa was pretty without being gorgeous, a little too curvy and heavy in the bust for his tastes, but definitely something special. She had stereotypical Irish coloring: fair skin, a mop of red hair, and green eyes. She had also been one of his friends since they had started school as freshmen the year before, along with his roommate, Brandon Chen. Amazingly enough, the two of them had been dating since before they had started college.

  It gave Lucas faith sometimes that people his age could stay together that long.

  "Whichever," Lisa said, waving a hand. "Don't be so picky. Either way, you're an idiot."

  Lucas shrugged. "Right now, I can't help but agree."

  Lisa flipped her textbook shut and looked at him, elbows on the counter. "What have you done this time, pretty boy? Broken another heart?"

  "Oh, it's more complex than that," Lucas said, crossing over into the kitchen to get himself a drink. Lisa's gaze followed him, shrewd and assessing. "I was going to blow off someone yesterday. Let me backtrack…I met up with someone I'd gotten to know really well online. When I finally met him in person…well, it turns out, he's one of my co-workers. But he blew me off, first."

  "He?" Lisa said, frowning.

  "Yeah. I haven't been with a guy since high school, but I am attracted to one every so often," Lucas replied. He opened his Coke, keeping track of Lisa in his peripheral vision. She didn't look shocked, just a little puzzled. He was relieved. This kind of revelation had gone badly for him before.

  "So this guy from the store…he blew you off?" Lisa dismissed the revelation as nothing, which bore up his opinion that Lisa was, overall, an open-minded person. Then again, he should have known, considering what kinds of things she was into.

  Lucas was silent for a moment. It wasn't that Soren was plain. On the contrary, he was extremely good-looking…. Pretty, even, although he clearly didn't realize it. Lucas had adopted the online handle of "TruBishounen" because he was attractive and he damned well knew it. Soren, though…he fit the meaning of 'pretty boy' right down to his long-lashed, dark blue eyes.

  Since when had he noticed Soren's eyes in such detail?

  "It was awkward," Lucas said at last. "When I asked him to meet me at the Java Shack, I sure as hell didn't think it was going to be someone I already knew."

  "So what? What's the problem?"

  Lucas frowned. His objections seemed weak, insubstantial. "I don't know. I guess…the guy I thought Soren was isn't the guy I'd gotten to know as Dawntreader." That was messed up, even to his own ears. It reinforced what Soren had said: that the two of them were there was because they hadn't known one another at all.

  Lisa grinned at him. "What, were you expecting an anonymous encounter and a brief, torrid gay affair?"

  Lucas gestured at her with his Coke and nearly spilled it. Hastily, he took a sip. "That's not fair."

  "Isn't it?" Lisa
raised an eyebrow. "You'll barely settle down to have a relationship with a girl—at least, not for as long as I've known you. Maybe it was because it would be too awkward to love him and leave him, knowing him at work. But wait…he blew you off."

  Lucas said nothing, just drank his soda and frowned.

  In the distance, the front door opened and shut. Lisa twisted on her stool. "Brandon!" She jumped off and moved out of eyesight. "Welcome back. I'm starved. Are you ready to eat?"

  Lucas, still frowning, gripped his Coke can tightly enough to dent the aluminum. He heard Brandon's murmured response. Lisa had a point, and he didn't like the way it made him think. Maybe all he'd been expecting from meeting Dawntreader in person was a brief encounter, deepened and given added layers by the way he knew him from their midnight conversations and chat-sessions strung out over the past few months. He had gone with a haze of expectations that hadn't coalesced, and seeing Soren had given all of those assumptions a good hard jolt.

  That didn't mean Soren was any less attractive—he had just never come to Lucas's attention before. Lucas had been focused on chasing girls for the past year and a half; he hadn't so much as given a guy more than an idle thought in about that long. Well, with the exception of a night or two out clubbing at the gay joints. Since that last, most decisive break-up shortly before graduation, there had been a hollowness inside of him and he had needed something new. Something feminine and pliant.

  His daydreams had been pleasantly full of women for the past year now, warm and willing, breasts and softly-rounded stomachs and the wetness he sought between their thighs. Lucas had near-constant thoughts of sex; at least every other minute or so. There was always some new daydream to fixate on. It had been so long since he'd thought seriously about a guy he had begun to think his relationship with Stephen and what had come before had, indeed, been a phase. He was for girls, he had decided, and had devoted himself to the pursuit of them with a single-mindedness that was only surpassed in his studies.

  That morning, he had woken up from the dream of a male body moving against his, and the hair he'd run his fingers through had been dark. The face was familiar.

  It was awkward. No matter how well he knew Dawntreader…why had he never noticed Soren Wilkenson that way before?

  The answer was that it was like having flipped a switch off inside himself, darkening a room that he had been able to navigate freely before. He shook his head and finished his Coke. He was going around in circles.

  The phone was shrilling in the background, and Lucas looked up from his half-daze. He hadn't come to any sort of clear resolution with himself. All he knew was that seeing Soren that afternoon was going to be beyond awkward.

  Brandon rounded the corner of the kitchen, the apartment's cordless phone in hand. "It's for you."

  "Shit," Lucas muttered, and took it. "Must have my cell phone muted again." He was constantly forgetting to turn the sound back on, going between work and class as he did.

  "Lucas," Jonathan Daye's voice spoke into his ear. "What use is a cell phone if you never pick up? Never mind that…how are you?"

  "Fine, Dad," Lucas said automatically, pitching his can for the recycling bin in the corner of the kitchen. It glanced off the edge and clattered into the bin. He pumped his free hand in victory. "Why are you calling?"

  "To check up on you," Jonathan replied, as Lucas had known he would. "How's school going?"

  "I'm keeping up," Lucas said cautiously, running through a mental inventory of all his classes. "It's still early in the semester, but I don't think I'll have any problem staying on the Dean's List."

  "That's good," Jonathan said, sounding more enthusiastic. "You'd better keep it up—it would do you good to graduate from that university with honors. You know you'll have to get better marks to be well-considered, compared to graduating from a better school—"

  "Right, Dad. I didn't feel like uprooting with you again just to go to some Ivy League school. I think I'm doing all right here."

  "Fine. And work?"

  "It's all right. It's work," Lucas said, moving over to his laptop. He examined the single paragraph he'd squeezed out like blood from stone—it was about as useless. He saved and shut down. "I've got to get ready soon, actually. I've got a late afternoon to evening shift."

  "It's good that you made shift supervisor. Still, you'd do better to get out of the retail racket and get yourself a good internship."

  Lucas sighed. "I know, Dad, I've heard it before. I'll look into it. They don't offer many internships until the summer, you know."

  "Then get a summer internship."

  They both paused after that directive, and once again, Lucas felt as if he were falling into a holding pattern, reacting defensively to each onslaught of his father's instead of twisting out from under his thumb. Lucas had managed to stay in Portland, though, hadn't he? That had been his choice.

  "Is that all?" Lucas asked.

  He could hear Jonathan's breath catch with what was likely irritation or anger; then he said, in controlled tones, "Irene wants to know when you'll be coming for the winter break."

  "What, not the mid-semester break?"

  "Very funny. You'd better have studies and work to take care of, or you're slacking off over there."

  "I'm not—"

  "You know what I mean. Take a look at your calendar and send Irene an e-mail, or leave me a voicemail. Whichever. Then I'll send you a plane ticket."

  "Fine," Lucas said, controlling what Jonathan would consider an irrational display of anger.

  "And if you could cut your hair before we see you again—"

  "You ought to know better than to ask," Lucas interrupted, his voice hard. He'd been keeping his hair grown out to his shoulders since he was ten, and he wasn't about to stop now because Jonathan thought it looked ridiculous and 'unprofessional.'

  There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

  "All right. Take care." Jonathan paused.

  "Good bye," Lucas said pointedly.

  "Bye." The phone clicked off.

  Lucas shook his head as he carried the cordless back to the cradle. "Asshole," he muttered. It was only September. There was plenty of time between now and winter break for him to check his calendar and get back to them. He was surprised his father even wanted him to grace their pristine dwelling for any length of time with his presence. But then, to Jonathan, it would be worth the expense to fly Lucas out and show him off, stacking up praises against those of Lucas's peers. Although Jonathan had let him know he was lacking in that department on multiple occasions, Lucas was still biddable as far as Jonathan was concerned.

  "You know, I think all of your conversations with your father end like that," Lisa said, looking up from the living room couch where she was half-sprawled across Brandon's lap.

  "With me calling him an asshole?" Lucas said. "Probably. I thought you two went to lunch."

  "We were waiting for you," Brandon said mildly.

  Lucas shook his head. "Can't. I've got to work in…" He looked at his watch. "About an hour. Be productive enough for the both of us, will you?" He thought about his report with an internal grimace. It was due on Monday, but he still had the weekend.

  "Yeah, right," Lisa retorted. "It's Friday and I have no more classes." She stretched her arms above her head, making her breasts bounce as she performed a fascinating wriggle.

  Lucas caught Brandon's eye and grinned. "Well, have enough fun for the both of us, instead." He thought of Soren and grimaced. He had some major apologizing to do. If Soren—or Dawntreader, his friend—would ever speak to him again.

  *~*~*

  It had been one of the longest Fridays on record, all the longer due to the stopover that Soren had made at the career center. That had been an unpleasant hour, but he had come away with enough literature and informational packets to keep his mother at bay until the next well-meant discussion. When he got halfway through the door of the St. Johns Starbucks, it took an almost physical effort not to backpedal when h
e caught sight of who was behind the register. Soren's mood downgraded at once to queasiness and he hurried for the employee gate of the service island.

  "Hey," Lucas said, lifting his head and fixing Soren with an odd look.

  "Hello," Soren responded, turning at once for the back room. He would prefer to avoid this for as long as possible, but there was no chance of that. He wished he had never agreed to TruBishounen's—no, to Lucas's—suggestion.

  In the back, Soren examined the schedule. Just as he'd feared, he was working late into the evening with Lucas…and Aaron. If he was lucky, they'd snipe back and forth all night and leave him alone.

  Soren ran his finger down the schedule. Sloane was done for the day. Linh was closing with Aaron. He sighed, pulling his hair back with both hands. He had forgotten to braid it back, but it should be fine, as long as it was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

  "Great," said a familiar deep voice, and a hand reached out for the rack beside him, pulling one of the green aprons off. Aaron looked at the schedule, then at Soren, then back at the schedule. "All I've got is you two until Linh gets here."

  Soren glanced at him, reaching for his own apron. There was no use in rising to Aaron's bait. He wasn't exactly thrilled either, but he wasn't about to go advertising it.

  "Okay, fine…" Aaron moved beyond him and clocked in, then faced him. "You usually do espresso bar, right?"

  "Right."

  "Fine. Go and relieve Maria—she needs to clock out." Aaron scowled. "And ask Teri to come back here if she hasn't already counted out her till."

  Soren paused in the act of tying on his apron. "I didn't see Teri."

  "Huh." Aaron looked at the schedule again. "Well, I'll ask Danice." He disappeared into the furthest part of the back room, where the management staff dwelled.

  Soren pushed the swinging door open, taking another look around the shop. There was Maria at the bar and Lucas at the register. He gave a mental shrug. If Teri was gone, it was Aaron's problem, not his.