Page 19 of Inferno
“So tell me something about you that I don’t know yet,” Nerik said to Yorin, distracted by his own wayward thoughts and needing to steer the evening onto safer ground.
Yorin leaned forward, a conspiratorial expression on his face. “I hate pumpkin,” he said with a grimace. “All through autumn, every pub and bakery in the entire city is serving up pumpkin pie, roast pumpkin, pumpkin bread, pumpkin soup, you name it. I spend the entire season trying to avoid going anywhere because someone’s going to try and get me to eat pumpkin.” He rolled his eyes, then grinned. “What about you? What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”
Nerik snorted. “I can’t swim,” he confessed. “Toss me in a river, and I’d be dead in under a minute.”
Yorin laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
After that, the conversation moved on. They discussed random facets of their lives, light hearted details that nonetheless let them both fill in the blanks of each other’s experiences and preferences. Yorin preferred summer to winter, while Nerik was the complete opposite. They were both early risers. Yorin enjoyed playing checkers, while Nerik preferred cards. Yorin’s favourite food was peaches. Nerik loved the smell of lemons. Yorin was surprised to learn that Nerik had worked for a blacksmith once, though he hadn’t taken it up as a full time trade. And Yorin had once attempted to learn to be a potter, back when he was about ten years old. All that had resulted was an enormous mess and the wise decision to stick with tailoring, like his father.
Hours later, the candle in the centre of the table was sputtering and Nerik looked out the window to see that it was now entirely dark outside. “Perhaps we should call it a night,” Yorin suggested, though Nerik was gratified to hear that he seemed reluctant about it.
“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” Nerik blurted out before he could think better of it. Gods, what the hell was he thinking? Inviting Yorin into his own home, where there could be any number of subtle hints that he wasn’t anywhere near as human as he pretended to be, combined with the need for Nerik to eat more food? What a brilliant idea. And more than that, he would have to come up with something to cook that he could eat without killing himself, at the same time as it being palatable for Yorin.
“I would love to,” Yorin said. Of course he would. Because Nerik was an idiot.
But at the same time, he was practically vibrating with pleasure at the thought of spending another evening with Yorin.
“Great,” Nerik said, standing up. “It’s a date, then.” A second date. For all the potential pitfalls of it, Nerik couldn’t really regret the invitation.
They did an awkward shuffle towards the door, each one trying to let the other go first, and then they were stepping out into the night, the air clear and cool, with the lingering scent of wood smoke drifting on the breeze.
“Is it safe for you to be walking home at this time of night?” Yorin asked, and for a moment, Nerik thought he was going to offer to let Nerik spend the night at his place. But Nerik was well aware by this point that he needed to get home and add some more fuel to his internal fire. He hadn’t had anything all day, and there would be no opportunity to tonight if he was sleeping in the house of a human.
“I’ll be fine,” Nerik said. “I’ve got a knife in my bag and I know the road like the back of my hand. I’m sure I can keep myself out of trouble.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Yorin stood there for a moment, like he was debating something. He took an abortive step towards Nerik, then seemed to change his mind. “Well. Good night then.” He nodded, smiled, and then turned and headed for his shop.
Nerik was halfway home before he realised that if he’d been a little more helpful about it, Yorin might have kissed him.
CHAPTER TEN
Wednesday was an exercise in patience that had every minute feeling like an eternity. Yorin woke up too early, tired from a late night but too restless to sleep anymore. He hurried through his breakfast and then sat about in the shop, fidgeting until it was time to open the door, while he tried his best to concentrate on making the latest orders that had come in.
Mr Fensworth came to collect his order, spot on the dot of nine o’clock, as promised. Yorin took measurements for a new order and did fittings for two older ones. And then he worked as diligently as he could on his sewing until he was certain it must be lunchtime. He ducked into the kitchen to check the wind-up clock on the counter.
It was half past ten. With a sigh, he returned to his work table.
This time, as he worked on the next shirt, his mind began to wander. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from his first date with Nerik. A lot of flirting and small talk? Suggestive comments and flattery? An expectation that Yorin would want to join in with a group conversation with some of Nerik’s other friends?
What had actually happened had been perfect, in Yorin’s eyes. The first part of the evening had been the serious part, talking about demons and Nerik’s past, showing their true colours and touching on sensitive topics. And then later, once they’d already got to know each other better, they’d reverted to the meaningless stuff, favourite foods and colours and seasons, which had no bearing on the realities of everyday life.
It was the opposite to the way everyone else expected a social night to work. But in Yorin’s mind, this way had made far more sense, and been far more enjoyable at the same time.
But now, what could he expect from a second date? Would it be more of the same, casual conversation over a pleasant meal? Was Nerik an accomplished cook? Was that why he’d invited Yorin to his house? Or was he expecting something else? Something more… intimate?
He shouldn’t get his hopes up, Yorin cautioned himself. Nerik had made no move to kiss him last night. He hadn’t even touched him, not a hug goodnight, not a handshake. Yorin would have sorely liked to kiss him, once the night was over, but he hadn’t quite been able to work up the courage. Had Nerik not noticed his abortive attempt? Or perhaps Nerik hadn’t wanted to make a scene in public, but would be more amenable to a gesture of affection in private? Or maybe Nerik didn’t actually want to kiss him at all.
Maybe Yorin was really over-thinking this.
Finally, lunchtime came around, and Yorin distracted himself for five minutes by making a sandwich with a little chunk of cheese and a fresh tomato… and that got him thinking about how Nerik didn’t like tomato on his sandwiches, and whether he should take anything with him for the night – a bottle of wine, perhaps, or a dessert? Except that he didn’t know enough about what Nerik did or didn’t like to eat, which would make it difficult to pick the right thing. And the last thing he wanted was for Nerik to force himself to eat something he didn’t like, just to make Yorin happy.
Surely they could at least share a kiss before the night was over. That wasn’t being overly optimistic, was it?
Five o’clock finally rolled around, after a relatively quiet afternoon, and Yorin packed up the shop, heading upstairs to get changed. Unlike last night, he dressed for practicality today. He was going to be walking home through the forest in the dark, so he put on a sturdy pair of trousers, a shirt that was designed for comfort, rather than fashion, and a pair of walking boots. He put a small canteen of water in a satchel, along with a short knife, and then strapped a longer knife to his leg. It was unlikely that he’d run into bandits or thieves as close to the city as he was going to be, but nonetheless, it paid to be prepared. Then he slung a coat through the strap of his satchel and picked up a small lantern, checking to see it was full of oil. The light would scare away any wild dogs or boars, and the knife would take care of anything else.
Equipment sorted, he locked up the shop and headed off to the north end of the city.
The forest road was moderately busy, with travellers from the surrounding towns eager to arrive in Minia before nightfall, and several of the locals finishing up last minute business before the end of the day. Yorin saw a couple of young boys gathering firewood, a teenage girl looking for mushrooms, and one of the local messengers foraging for herbs – likely to try and sell them to the baker or the pub for tomorrow’s meals. Given the time of year, there were still three or four hours until it would be dark. And perhaps it was being too presumptuous to think that Yorin would be coming home after sunset, but either way, it was better to be prepared.