Page 24 of A Quiet Man

Tomas tsked. "You are. Sometimes." It did feel rather like a case of the blind leading the blind today, though. Was this unexpected symmetry between them one of the reasons they'd always gotten along so well? Perhaps in the sex-obsessed world, two people who could really care about each other without remotely being interested in each other that way had been something that made their friendship sweeter. Clearly, they were both on the lower end of the scale when it came to interest in sex.

He remembered how annoyed he used to get, seeing people throw away anything or everything for a significant other, needing to date constantly or being in the throes of despair if they weren't, losing out on good opportunities and moving halfway across the world for someone, throwing all their eggs into the basket of someone they'd been with for a year or less.

Frankly, sometimes he thought people were idiots, and he was sensible. But when it came to realizing he actually would like to have a relationship, that maybe he didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone, the knowledge of how different he was shook him up, rocking his world. Tomas hadn't been born yesterday. He knew the way he felt about Auden — even built on shaky ground as it was — wasn't something he felt a lot in his life.

He didn't get his hopes up about people; he didn't moon, and he didn't worry about how to keep a romantic partner in his life. Mostly he'd tried to wriggle out of romantic opportunities people seemed to think he was destined to need: well-meaning friends or family trying to help him find someone, or flirts who dropped heavy hints about wanting to "do" him.

It turned out maybe he was a hell of a lot more flexible about how much he'd consider changing himself than he'd realized thus far. It was slightly humiliating to realize that, and it raised the stakes. Or rather, it let him realize how much he was building up the possibilities here.

Realistically, his hopes would be dashed. There was obviously an extremely small number of people with whom he felt a mutual spark of something worth pursuing. He might meet more of them in his lifetime, and he might not. Either way, the odds of finding someone who would be with him for a lifetime and who could be happy in a relationship that he could also be happy in seemed infinitesimally remote. Holding out hope was foolish. And yet his stupid heart had decided it couldn't give up that hope.

One minute he felt fluttery inside, smiled for no reason, was quick to laugh and notice the smallest sign of something to feel joyous about. Then, later, the world was a dark place, and happiness was out of reach. Hope was impossible, and he shouldn't have any. It was simply unsustainable — that, or the start of a mental health problem that would need to be treated. But since the moods all seemed to revolve around whether Auden liked him, whether Auden would really want to be in his life for much longer, whether a relationship could work between them, it seemed pretty damned obvious he was falling in love.

Yikes.

How did anyone manage to get any work done, if they were distracted by such run-amok feelings and thoughts? The answer, which was pretty obvious to him when he was a dedicated student surrounded by angst and giddy hormonal declarations, had been that people didn't. That everyone was slacking off. And now those randy kids probably had the last word. He imagined them all in happy relationships, while he was just now stumbling into that deep, hungry desire for someone to love him back, for someone to want to stay. For someone — Auden — to want more than his body.

So here he was, sitting in a car talking about it with his best friend, and apparently finding that they had more in common than he'd known.

"I hope you'll like him," Tomas said for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

"I'm sure I'll like him," Riley soothed. His brows had shot up when Tomas shared where he'd first seen Auden, and then how offering him a lift had turned into something like a date a few days later.

"I definitely didn't flirt with him on the job or anything like that," he'd hastened to add. It seemed important that Riley know he wasn't a creep.

From the smile Riley tried to swallow, the thought of Tomas as a reckless, devil-may-care playboy flirting left and right wasn't something he could take seriously.

Tomas didn't share the coffee spill incident, though. Not because he thought Riley would be shocked or look askance at Auden over it; if anything, the opposite. But it would hurt him to know the way people from work had been talking about Tomas.

Riley didn't forget insults to his partner easily, any more than Tomas could avoid holding a grudge towards anyone who was unkind to Riley — big, nervous, soft-hearted Riley. They were protective of each other, and knowing about that incident would damage any interaction he had with those ladies from the other department. And it would hurt him without cause or need.

Surely, he would like Auden.

Riley made a show of checking his watch, which he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing. "I'm hungry. If you think it's close enough to lunchtime—"

"I don't even know if he's working today," mumbled Tomas. "This might be a bad idea." Really, it was a strange way for Auden and Riley to meet, and Auden might resent it. But it also seemed too early for a serious "this is my partner" introduction. Setting up a casual, plausibly accidental meeting like this was still the best balance he could think of, if it was going to happen anytime soon.

He thought of something else. "What about Justin? Won't he be annoyed if you don't have lunch with him?"

"No, no. He said he needs to work through lunch so he can get home in time today." His face wrinkled with concern, but he didn't add more.

Maybe he took what I said seriously. Huh.

They reached the diner before the lunchtime rush. Not that this place got as much of a rush as it would have if the food had been better. Tomas mostly liked coming here because it was close and fairly quiet. (When annoying coworkers weren't gossiping about him, at least.) He liked to think he hadn't just been sulking, or avoiding Justin, but he didn't want to examine it too closely. He was really tired of everything being about Justin.

"What should I order?" Riley asked as they walked in together. He held the door for Tomas. Riley was a big guy, and he almost filled the entire doorway. He was definitely worth a second look (maybe a third), and he was intimidating at first sight.

Still, it hurt to see the way Auden's eyes widened in a split second of pure terror when he spotted Riley. He'd been heading over to seat them, clearly, and for a moment, it was as if he couldn't think, move, or breathe. A huge guy was looming, and he wanted to flee.

Tomas stepped in front of Riley quickly. "Hi, Auden. This is my partner," he said, his voice a bit odd and breathless. "He's nice, I promise." He'd never have drawn attention to Auden's panic if it had shown any signs of being hideable in the first place. He hadn't realized it would be like this. Casual and comfortable, not terrifying. That was what he'd been going for.

Auden's rigid posture relaxed slightly as he recognized Tomas, and a rueful smile touched his eyes. "How unprofessional of me. Let me seat you."

"No, I'll just go to my regular booth. It's okay." He wanted to give Auden a little time to get away and compose himself. He'd never intended to put Auden in such an awkward situation.

Auden, however, seemed fine now that he'd recognized Tomas, and his smile was only a tad awkward. "Of course. I'll get you some menus."

Riley coughed apologetically. "I might not fit in a booth."