Free Fall Apart by SE Culpepper Page B

to bring your guy along. I won’t lie, it’s a surprise to hear what you’re up to with him.” Zane was carefully weighing his words as he spoke, like he didn’t want to accidentally upset Alarik.
    “It’s overly generous to call him ‘my guy’ when I’m still working on calling him an acquaintance,” Alarik admitted, but then he smiled. “He likes me, though, and that’s why I’m taking my show on the road.”
    There was a pause in the conversation because Zane was talking to Mark again. When he came back on the line, he had a plan. “Mark says Wednesday. I’ve got meetings in the morning, but the afternoon and evening are free. I’ll cook.”
    Alarik laughed. “You mean you’ll grill.”
    “I’ll serve it wrapped in newspaper if that makes you feel at home—are you coming? Should we put you down for two?”
    Talking like this made Alarik picture what it would be like having a double date. The idea of Damon agreeing to go out with him made him squirm in pleasure.
    “Put me down for two; I’ll see what I can do.”
    He and Zane said their goodbyes just as the GPS squawked at him in her computerized version of a British accent. She wanted him to exit the 101 and turn right at the light. He did as he was told and five more minutes on the road brought him to a shopping center with ten different stores side by side. Wright Sports held court in the middle. A place called Yo-Good! Frozen Yogurt was on its left and a coffee shop was on its right. How Damon stayed in shape working betwixt the two, Alarik didn’t know; he was forever at war with his own sweet tooth.
    A handmade sign hung beside the door of Wright Sports and announced that it was open for business. Alarik could see around the advertisement posters hung in the windows, and Damon was nowhere in sight.
    Twice as nervous now as when he left the hotel, he got out of the car and tried to figure out what to say. A couple sitting outside of the coffee shop was watching him and he decided he’d simply have to go for it before he was arrested for loitering.
    There was a bell hanging on the door to announce his arrival, but when he stepped inside, there was no one around. A voice greeted him from somewhere, perhaps the depths behind the counter. It was Damon.
    “Be right with you.”
    Alarik was sweating. His underarms were overloaded. Stress sweat. He stepped up to the counter and struck a Whitlow-worthy nonchalant pose, one elbow on a stack of advertisements for surfing lessons. He waited impatiently for Damon to stand, and when he finally saw the telltale signs of auburn hair and a red face from being crouched low behind the counter, the grin he was sporting fell away. Obviously he’d wanted to see Damon badly enough that the drive wasn’t an issue, but being there, in person, separated by only a few feet, Alarik realized how screwed he was.
    I have a crush on you, Damon. And it’s baaaaad.
    When Damon straightened, he was still focused on a clipboard holding a sheet of paper covered in numbers and columns. There was a pencil tucked behind his ear. Alarik wished for the camera that was currently resting in the front passenger seat of his car.
    “Sorry,” Damon murmured, “can I help you find—holy shit!” He skipped back a step as his eyes lifted, and Alarik fought mightily to keep his expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”
    Unsure how to take that question, Alarik pretended it wasn’t asked. “Mr. Wright.”
    “You’re just here! In Ventura .”
    Alarik nodded, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand.
    “Why?”
    Cocking his head provocatively, he answered, “I woke up this morning and I realized I made a mistake last night. Since it will directly impact you, I thought it only right that I rectify the situation.”
    Damon’s brows scrunched together as he stared. “Mistake?”
    “Indeed.”
    Tucking the clipboard against his chest, causing the sleeves of his red t-shirt to tighten over his arms, Damon waited, saying