Page 28 of Love and History

But I didn’t want just anyone. I wanted Holden.

I didn’t know if I could ignore this feeling the way he seemed to be able to. On one hand, I understood. He had experience. He didn’t need to mess around to know that he liked dick. And I was the last guy he wanted to mess around with anyway. So being polite when we couldn’t straight-up avoid each other was probably wise.

Problem…I couldn’t avoid Holden if I was Henry the fuckin’ Eighth.

See what I’m sayin’? My focus was shot.

I pushed my laptop aside and scrolled his name on my phone. Most of our correspondence consisted of Holden reminding me to do something, like pay rent or move my car. This one was different.

Thank you for helping, Ezra. You’ll be a fantastic Henry VIII. I’ve attached a couple of websites with information regarding the famous royal monarch. Our Henry is the young, charismatic, egotistical king. Not the tyrant he was in later years. More on that later. This will be fun.

Fun. I doubted that. It would be weird ’cause Holden was weird.

And cool and smart and—

“Ezra. You’re here early this morning.” Rossman stopped in front of my desk, a large to-go coffee in one hand and a pastry bag in the other.

“Yes. Welcome back, sir. How was your trip?”

“The deposition went well, thank you. “

“Glad to hear that. I’m making progress with the research you asked for. I’ll forward it to you before I head out for my study group. I’m on a half-day schedule till my last day, which is…next week,” I reminded him.

“So soon?”

“I’ll be back mid-August. I want to dedicate a couple of weeks to studying full-time for the bar exam. I can’t wing it.”

“You’ll do just fine. No doubt about it.”

He flashed a plastic grin as he fished his cell from his suit coat. Mentally, he seemed to have moved on, but he lingered in front of my desk as though he still had something to say.

So did I.

“I talked to my roommate, by the way,” I reported.

Rossman continued typing away on his cell. “Oh?”

Oh? That was it? There had to be some kind of litigation game at play—pretending to be absorbed in your phone while heightening the defense’s awareness. Or something like that. I made a mental note ’cause it was pretty damn effective.

“Yeah, unfortunately, he’s swamped at the moment. Between summer school courses and his commitments at HRS, he isn’t around much. Socializing isn’t in the cards.”

He tore his gaze from his cell. “HRS?”

“Historic Reenactment Society.”

Rossman widened his eyes. “The professor dresses up like a knight or a viking?”

“Something like that. He’s playing Shakespeare at some Renaissance Fair in Pasadena.”

And no, I did not tell him I’d signed on to be Henry VIII.

“Huh. Interesting,” he hummed, though his tone implied the opposite.

“It’s coming up soon and he’s all in. So…the timing just doesn’t work.”

Rossman slipped his cell into his pocket and smiled vaguely, once again conveying only passing interest. “Timing?”

“Yeah, you wanted me to set up a casual meeting for your daughter to—”