Page 3 of Hummingbird and Kraken

Geir forced himself not to look back as he walked into his house, the warped screen door clattering behind him. His hand still burned from Declan’s touch, like those soft, uncalloused fingers had left an indelible mark. What was that?

Geir so rarely had visitors, and he had an inherent distrust of anyone who wasn’t one of his neighbors. While he was fairly certain that Declan was innocent, he would watch him carefully and send him on his way as soon as possible. It was safer that way.

Not to mention that Declan’s youthful beauty was too tempting for him to risk a second look. Declan would be here and gone in a moment. Even if he stayed, which Geir had no reason to imagine, his life was like a mayfly’s.

It took Geir a little while to find his phone, since he often went weeks without using it and hadn’t properly put it away the last time. And then it took a while longer to charge it enough to make a call. Fortunately, he had the number for the garage in his phone since his truck broke down often enough. He had taken a momentary interest when he bought it nearly thirty years ago and learned most of the parts. Now he could call in to have them order what he needed before he drove the forty minutes to get there.

The whole time that they were waiting, Declan talked. No, it was something more than talking. He chattered, flitting around like a little bird. It didn’t seem to matter whether Geir acknowledged him or not. Though every time Geir spoke, he turned his full attention on him, like he was going to impart some holy wisdom.

Several thousand years had taught Geir that there was no true wisdom, holy or otherwise. There was just getting along and keeping your head down.

The first step to that was ignoring those graceful limbs and big, brown eyes. Especially that tantalizing midriff that Geir wanted to simultaneously touch and cover up so that no one could see it.

Declan’s pants were impossibly tight, certainly so tight that he should never have been able to slink around the way that he did, his body flowing and bouncing and sliding around the cluttered space of Geir’s living room.

Above those provocative jeans, he wore a loose black T-shirt that fell off his shoulders and made no attempt to even cover his belly. It read, in sparkling, impossible-to-ignore silver letters, BOY TOY.

Geir had seen men like him before, a few times on televisions that played in the background while he waited somewhere, and a few more times on his rare trips to Cleveland when he needed supplies that he couldn’t get locally.

He thought of them as something a bit magical, like fairies that would disappear at the first touch of dew. He’d known men like them throughout history, of course, but the way that they reveled in it now, shouting it out to the world in sparkly capital letters was entirely new.

It felt now like one of those fairies had chosen to alight on his doorstep, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Offer him a drop of milk served in a flower petal, maybe? Trap him with a lasso made of spider silk around his pinky finger?

He snorted at his own foolishness. The boy was clearly human.

The phone finally beeped to indicate that he could turn it on without it immediately shutting off again, so he called the garage. He explained the situation and wasn’t surprised by the response. He gave a terse word of thanks and hung up the phone.

He turned to find Declan watching him with eager eyes.

“You should put on a shirt.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it was still true.

“I’m wearing a shirt!” Declan seemed outraged, but Geir couldn’t interpret it as anything but adorable. It would be fun to wind him up a little, as long as he knew that Geir was joking. Not, of course, that they would ever see each other again once the car was fixed.

“No, I mean…” He wasn’t quite sure how to say it. “Tom, from the garage, he might not...” he waved vaguely at Declan’s tender, exposed belly and those shiny, seductive words.

Declan’s face fell.“I’m proud of who I am,” he said. But it was soft, like he wasn’t sure.

Geir felt out of his depth. “You can be proud. But you also have to be safe.”

Declan looked up at him, impishly. “Do you like my shirt?”

Gods help him, but he did. And he couldn’t imagine where admitting it might lead. He settled for a grunt, knowing that he was being evasive. But he felt his lips pulling into a smile.

Declan seemed pleased enough with that. “So, when does Tom from the garage get here?”

At least this Geir could answer. He felt his tongue begin to loosen with continued speech. “It’s a forty-minute drive, but that’s only if he leaves right away.”

“Forty minutes?” Declan seemed shocked. “Is that how far it is to the closest town?”

“The closest town with a repair shop. There’s another town about twenty minutes away, but it’s smaller.”

“Got it.”

Geir wasn’t quite sure how to say the next part. He decided to just share the facts, and then leave the situation in Declan’s lap. “Tom won’t look at the car until tomorrow morning. If he has everything, it still might be another day. If he needs a part, it could be a week.”

“Like Monday or Tuesday? Shit. I wasn’t planning for that. It’s Wednesday now, right?”

Geir shrugged. Days were meaningless, but for once he almost wanted to know. “It could still be finished tomorrow morning. Tom can probably tell you when he comes out.”