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I fingered the stem of my wine glass, rolling it between my fingers. How many gigs was I working on at once right now? Twelve? Fifteen?
“I— I can’t,” I protested. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve got so much work of my own to do.”
“Do you own a laptop?”
I laughed. “I have five of them.”
“Awesome,” smiled Adrian. “Do some of your work here, between naps and feeding and stuff. You’d be making money while you make money. I could clear out a nice workspace for you, and set up a desk.”
I stopped talking and started glancing around. I was still looking for reasons to say no, but I was rapidly running out of them.
“Look, no pressure,” Adrian said apologetically. “If kids aren’t your thing…”
“No,” I stopped him. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then sleep on it,” he shrugged. “You could always try it out, give it a shot. And if it turns out it isn’t for you, no hard feelings.”
His ensuing smile stopped me dead in my tracks, obliterating all current avenues of protest. Had Adrian turned on the charm just now? Or had he been charming the whole time?
I couldn’t tell, to be honest. I was too busy picturing myself crushed up against his chest, or imagining myself being held in those granite-like arms. Maybe I couldn’t think straight because I was still conjuring up the fading memories of actually kissing him. And of him kissing me… in hot, secret places that made me instantly wet.
“But if it is for you,” he smiled hopefully, “well, you’d be helping us out big time. And maybe helping yourself out in the process.”
Helping myself out, I thought silently, looking his gorgeous male body up and down.
Yeah, maybe that part could be fun.
~ 7 ~
HARPER
Three days: that’s how long it took me to catch up on my work. And by work I meant paying work, because anything I did involving my haptic research wasn’t work at all. Designing and building the new system was thrilling. It was rewarding. It was…
Expensive?
Yeah, it was definitely that, too. I had all sorts of electronic components already lying around; transistors and resistors and tiny circuit boards, most of which I’d managed to salvage from old projects or ‘liberate’ from previous job sites. But now, this far into my research, I needed new stuff too. You couldn’t build a cutting-edge prototype from yesterday’s tech. And no matter how fast or streamlined my code was, the system could only move at the highest speed the equipment would physically let it.
It had been three snowy days since I’d taken an Uber home from Adrian’s apartment, across the Cazenovia Creek to my little Cape Cod on Portland Street. I’d spent those days sulking, then doing the math, then sulking some more. I abstained from wine — a financial decision more than a moral one. I ate leftovers, and kept the lights and heat turned low to avoid a huge electric bill.
Eventually though, I came to a grim, bitter realization. If I wanted to keep this modest house I’d bought a few years back, to celebrate my most recent promotion for a job I no longer had, I’d have to start earning a full salary again. Which meant, of course, that I’d need to go back to work.
Bullshit.
My phone buzzed; as a text message came through. Immediately I thought of Adrian. I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head, really. Not that I’d tried too hard to begin with. He’d already sent two messages over the past couple of days, and just seeing his name in my phone had made me excited. In one, he told me how great it was to catch up with me again. In the other, he’d sent a pic of his son. Brayden was eating — no, smearing — some kind of rust-colored baby food all over his hands and face in the photo. His onesie, pure white and practically unblemished, was lettered with the words:
FEELING CUTE, MIGHT SHIT MYSELF LATER.
I’d laughed my ass off at that one, and the laughter felt unreasonably good. Adrian himself was stuck in my mind. He looked so incredible now; a lot like the old Adrian, but radically different, too. I marveled at his body. I could still smell the scent of him, sitting so close to me on that leather couch…
The phone buzzed again, and I woke from my daydream. The message wasn’t from Adrian at all. It was from one of my mentors and closest contacts — but also someone I’d ironically never met. A fellow programmer and developer I’d run into on one of the deeper forums, in the nerdiest corner of the internet.
Hey! Still looking for those micro pneumatic adapters?
I was shocked. The post I’d put up a few weeks back was long-buried by now, and after a complete lack of response I didn’t think anyone had even noticed it.
Hey you! I sure as hell am.
But I’ll probably have to put them off for a while.
