Page 51 of Something Like Hail

“Don’t go!” Noah said outloud, breaking into a run. He forced himself to stop when theapartment complex came into view. He couldn’t show up panting. Whenhe saw the maroon convertible, his heart sank. The top was down.Harold stood outside the car while leaning against the door, hishead occasionally turning toward the nearest apartments. Harold’sback was to him, so if Noah could creep around the front of the carwithout him seeing and come at him from the side…

He nearly made it. Noah had just reached theback of the car when Harold spun around. His face lit up, but thenhis eyebrows shot back down in confusion.

Harold looked toward the building, then backagain, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I thought you lived onthis side?”

“I do,” Noah said. “I justhad to take out the trash.” He glanced behind himself, praying fora dumpster to be anywhere near. Instead all he saw was a clubhouseand more parking spaces.

The confusion remained on Harold’s featuresuntil he shrugged and flashed his easy smile. “How’d it go withMarcello?”

“Great!” Noah said, walkingaround the car to join him. “We finally set aside ourdifferences.”

“I bet!” Harold said with aknowing expression.

“Not like that! We didn’tsleep together.”

“You didn’t— Oh, I get it.You had sex though.”

“Nope. He didn’t eventry.”

Harold shook his head as if this didn’t makesense. “Why not?”

Probably because Noah couldn’t stop talkingabout the guy in front of him. Even though he had promised to focuson Marcello, it felt too good having someone he could confide in,someone who actually knew Harold better than he did. Marcelloseemed amused by this fixation, occasionally throwing Noah a tidbitof information, like how Harold had a weakness for waffles. Not thefrozen kind. They had to be freshly made. If Noah actually livedhere, he would have bought a waffle iron already and invited Haroldin for a treat. Or maybe he would have saved that surprise for themorning after. “I guess I’m not Marcello’s type,” Noah said.

“You’re male and you’realive,” Harold said. “Maybe his age is finally catching up withhim.”

Or maybe Marcello was the kind of guy whowanted to feel like a star, which took more than a very distractedescort who couldn’t go two seconds without thinking of— Hey! Wasthat the Sesame Street logo on Harold’s T-shirt? Could he get anycuter? Oh right, the conversation. Back to that. “I’m kind ofrelieved, to be honest. Marcello isn’t my type either.”

Harold smirked, shrugged, and lookedaway.

“Is he your type?” Noahasked, worried he would have to put on weight and figure out a wayto age prematurely.

“He might not betraditionally handsome,” Harold said, making eye contact again,“but man, does he know what he’s doing! Marcello has made me feelthings with my clothes on that other guys couldn’t manage with menaked and in their bed all night.”

“Wow,” Noah said, his mindtraveling in two different directions. Now he was wishing he andMarcellohadhooked up, if only to steal some of his moves. The rest of himwas picturing what it would be like to have Harold in his bed foran entire night. Such as this very evening. “Have any planstonight?”

“Why do you ask?” Haroldsaid, looking amused. “Actually, I don’t. So far I haven’t gottenan assignment. You?”

“Nada.”

“Cool. I just went groceryshopping and need to get home before anything melts. You wanna comewith and hang out?”

“Sounds good,” Noahsaid.

Harold nodded but didn’t move. “Do you needto grab something from the apartment? Wallet? Phone?”

“I’ve got it all with me,”Noah said, moving toward the passenger side. “Let’s get your icecream home. Or knowing you, it’s probably frozenyogurt.”

“I love froyo!” Harold saidwith a chuckle. “It’s even worse than you think. No ice cream, justfrozen fruit for my smoothies.”

Noah groaned. “Someday I’m going to inviteyou out for real food.”

“Like what?”

“Doesn’t matter as long asit’s deep-fried. That reminds me! Marcello took me to the mostamazing restaurant!”

As they drove, Noah talked excitedly abouthis trip to New Orleans. Harold hadn’t been there yet, but heshared details of trips he had taken with clients, the conversationcontinuing as they carried groceries inside and got them unpacked.Comparing notes was nice, not because Noah still needed guidance,but because this reinforced a growing certainty that they werecompatible. They both were passionate about their work, valueddowntime at home, had the same sense of humor… Maybe that wasn’t alot, but it was enough for a start.

“—so if anyone wants you tosunbathe nude on their yacht,” Harold was saying as he loaded upthe pantry, “just make sure there isn’t a boatload of touristsnearby. I don’t want to know how many vacation photos I ended upin.”