Two Elevators, Passing in the Night

 

 

ZACH MADE a concentrated effort to leave early after that, and to take the express elevator all the way down. He had to leave early to get his secretary and one friend her coffee in the morning and still get to work on time. It was the only way. It was a conscious decision, made fully aware of the consequences, but still, that didn’t stop him from flinching every time the car passed the fourteenth floor.

One of the plusses of leaving early was that he found himself in the elevator with Jace and Quent a lot. He hadn’t known their names until then, but they were the day-traders who shared the penthouse floor with him. Jace was the obsessive one who left early and apparently made them power walk through the San Francisco streets, and Quent, his goateed partner with the warm brown eyes, was the talker. Apparently, poker was their religion, and after they’d met for nearly three weeks, Zach was even invited to worship.

“Seriously, Jace—we could always use another man!” Quent said as the elevator began its descent.

Jace flicked steel-blue eyes over Zach’s face and dismissed the idea. “He’ll get eaten alive. He’s got a worse poker face than you. Look at those eyes.”

Quent shrugged apologetically, but Zach didn’t mind if his partner was an ass. They were better company than no one on the long trip down, and they were so obviously in love with each other he didn’t have to worry about stupid, heartbreaking attachments finding purchase in thin air.

Frisbee in Golden Gate Park turned out to be wonderful. Jenn was a chubby girl with waist-length blonde hair and an absolutely filthy mouth. Zach wasn’t sure what to do with her at first—he hadn’t even told dirty jokes in the eighth grade, but he liked watching Leah laugh, so eventually he stopped clenching every time she said something like “that old fucktard can go eat a bag of dicks!”

About three weeks after the benefit, right when he was getting used to living without hope or color, he got home one Friday evening and was getting on the elevator just when Sean was getting out.

Sean was dressed nicely—slacks and a sweater, with the familiar peacoat and bright-red scarf over his arm, and there was a stocky, powerfully built man in a suit standing behind him with a hand in the small of his back.

Sean and Zach stared at each other for a minute, and Zach figured this was it. The moment his heart really did blow away, and he didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Except that couldn’t be right because it was thundering in his ears.

“Hi,” he said, feeling lame.

“Hi,” Sean said, his sand-colored brows puckering in the middle. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Luck of the elevator,” Zach lied, and Sean nodded like that had to be the case and Zach couldn’t have possibly been avoiding him. That was enough for Zach—this sucked; this hurt horribly. This right here was the reason a flirtation on an elevator was the closest he’d come to a real relationship since he’d gone down on his roommate in college.

“Well, you know, maybe the elevator can stop avoiding me,” Sean said, and he was the one who sounded put out.

“Well, maybe it could stop pretending I have the plague,” Zach said sharply.

“Well maybe—” and Sean’s mouth was quirking up, like he knew this was a silly conversation to be having right now, and Zach was dying for his response, when the man behind him spoke up.

“Sean, we’re going to be late. These tickets were expensive!”

Sean grimaced at Zach and then turned toward his date. “Yeah, sorry.” The elevator was still standing there, open, and Zach moved toward it automatically. He turned around at the last minute, before the doors started to close, and saw that Sean had turned around too.

“So, see you around?” Sean said hopefully, and Zach smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah. See you around.”

 

 

HE DIDN’T want to completely ditch Quent and Jace—he’d started to feel like they might be friends too, like Leah and Jenn, and seriously, how had he lived for thirty-three years without friends? So he compromised. He left early two days a week and took the express all the way down, and then left a little late three days a week and switched elevators at the nineteenth floor. He managed to catch his friends on the two days (because apparently Jace was made out of clockwork parts and would never be late, rushed, or anything but perfectly attired) and maybe, once or twice a week, Sean managed to make it into the elevator on time.

It was just enough to feed Zach’s quiet obsession with him.

He saw Sean dressed in his Renaissance gear three times—apparently Romeo and Juliet was big in middle schools in the spring. He saw him dressed as a 1950s biker once—S.E. Hinton was also big in middle schools—with his blond hair slicked back and only a highly lacquered cluster of curls allowed to escape out the front. Zach also saw him dressed as a WWI soldier, because some sadist made eighth graders read All’s Quiet on the Western Front, and Jesus, didn’t those kids deserve a good laugh after that!

And Zach saw him on the last day of school, ebullient because the teacher who had been gone for the second half of the semester and given him access to the job had filed for a two-year leave of absence, and Sean could count on being able to pay his bills.

“So, what are you going to do for the summer?” Zach asked. He racked his brains, wondering if they had an internship or a gopher position or if they had the budget for a guy to go get coffee or—

“Theater tech!” Sean said gleefully. “I don’t get to dress up, but Katie has me signed up for three shows—the money’s not great, but it’ll keep me in Top Ramen until August!”

“School starts in August?” Appalling. Absolutely appalling—at least private schools waited until after Labor Day!

“Yup. Two months of theater, and suddenly I’ll be a real boy!”

“You’re the most real thing in my life,” Zach blurted, and the sudden silence was worse than hot coals and pincers. They weren’t even alone in the elevator. This was supposed to be a Jace and Quent day—and the little old lady with the poodle was there too. But the elevator had died at the nineteenth floor, and they’d all hopped into the next car, and suddenly, hey, Jace and Quent and old-lady-with-dog, meet Sean. The only one who cared, actually, was Zach. The rest of them had listened to Sean and Zach’s banter with half an ear, probably submerged in the white noise of their own thoughts.

“Oh,” Sean said, like the entire world made sense to him right then.

Ding!

The doors opened and the little old lady with the poodle got out, and Jace and Quent went after her. Quent turned an anxious glance behind him and Jace grabbed his arm, hissing, “Leave him alone!” before dragging his boyfriend into the San Francisco morning.

“I, uhm….” Zach stopped the door from closing and gestured for Sean to precede him. He followed him out of the elevator and prayed, just prayed that he would keep walking through the glass doors and into the city. Zach realized he didn’t even know which direction Sean usually turned. He always slowed his steps just enough to make sure their time in the elevator was their only time.

Sean didn’t do that this time. He waited for Zach to come out and walked shoulder to shoulder with him.

“You were early today,” Zach said into the silence.

“Yeah.”

“I usually come down with Jace and Quent, or I come down with you.”

“So you choose?” They were at the glass doors now, and Zach, again, gestured him to go first.

“I have to hop at the nineteenth floor to see you. And I made friends,” Zach said with dignity. Then, because it was honest. “But, I, uhm, I still like it when I see you in the morning.”

They got outside and Sean angled his shoulders left, toward the Muni stop probably, while Zach’s office building was right. They paused, awkwardly, and foot-traffic swirled around them on the crowded sidewalk.

“I’ll, uhm, see you in August,” Zach said, trying not to sound wistful.

Sean turned toward him fully, lifted himself up and kissed his cheek.

Time stopped. The world stopped. There was only Sean’s rain forest smell, his warmth, the freckles across his nose, and the feel of his soft lips on the arch of Zach’s cheekbone.

“We’re having a party tonight,” Sean said. “Apartment 1409. Beer is always appreciated.”

Then he turned and time zoomed him away to be lost in the crowd, and, dammit, Zach didn’t even have a chance to tell him that he had an event that night to attend for his family, and that he couldn’t get out of it.

He made a stop on his way home anyway, and on his way down, while dressed in his tux and everything, he stopped at the fourteenth floor. He hesitated before knocking on the door, but while he was standing there a couple came up behind him.

They were young—Sean’s age—and dressed casually. The young man had nice jeans and a dress-up shirt, and the young woman wore a pretty summer dress in lime and turquoise. Her hair was platinum blonde, and if she hadn’t been wearing bright-green contacts, he never would have recognized her as Sean’s roommate.

“Uhm, Wendy?” he said hesitantly, and her eyes widened in recognition.

“Yeah, uhm…. Yeah. You’re the guy—the one from the elevator Sean’s obsessed with. What can I do for you?”

Zach fought off the urge to dance—obsessed with? Really? Because Zach planned his entire day around thirty seconds in the elevator. “Here—uhm, Sean invited me, but I didn’t have a chance to tell him I couldn’t make it.” He thrust the two six-packs of expensive microbrew beer at Wendy and her date, and gave a nervous little head bob. “Tell him it sounds like fun though!”

And with that he turned and fled for the elevator.

He’d just gotten in and the doors were starting to close when he heard his name. Sean was running for the elevator full tilt, and Zach put his arm against the doors and let him in.

They closed behind Sean who laughed slightly and moved to the back of the elevator to lean against the mirror with Zach. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt in black and red. It looked horrible with his complexion, and Zach thought that Sean should get his friend Wendy to help him with his clothes.

“You couldn’t make it,” Sean said, sounding breathless and disappointed.

“I’m overdressed anyway,” Zach pointed out.

“It was such a good gesture.” Sean pouted. “You couldn’t blow off one fundraiser?”

“Not this one,” Zach said, turning his head sideways and smiling at Sean from under his lashes. “It’s the one that might get me evicted.”

“I’d hate for you to get evicted,” Sean said, but he was looking at Zach, his blue eyes wide and hopeful, and his voice lacked conviction. “I’d never see you again.”

“You know, there’s these things called cell—”

Ding!

Neither of them moved.

“You keep wearing tuxedos and going places without me,” Sean complained, and now he sounded breathless for a whole other reason.

“I hate tuxedos.” They were standing so close. Sean must have downed a beer or two, but his breath wasn’t unpleasant—just hoppy. He smelled a little sweaty so he’d probably been dancing—Zach would bet Sean was an atrocious dancer, because he moved like he was made of elbows, but Zach still wanted to see it happen.

“Then change into jeans and come to my party,” Sean begged plaintively.

This time Zach leaned into the kiss, and their lips met softly for a minute. He pulled away. “Someday,” he said softly, “I’m going to take you to one of these. I’ll buy you a tuxedo, and pick out your tie. I’ll escort you in and we can dance.”

Sean’s laugh was almost more sober than Zach’s dreamy voice. “I’d settle for having you come to my flat for a beer.”

“That too.”

“Are you guys getting out?”

Zach pulled himself back to the present and sighed. “I will see you around,” he said softly, and Sean shook his head.

“God, I hope so.”

He walked out and the irritated father, bemused mother, and baby in a stroller all crowded in.

The door closed behind him.

Ding!

 

 

GOLDEN GATE Park at night, even in the summer, was cold. He’d forgotten his scarf in his tizzy about the beer, and the breeze blowing through the amphitheater could have frozen the nads off an ice wizard. After the cellist performed (and Zach hoped they found a way to heat her and to keep her instrument from reacting to the salt air, because dayum, whose idea was this?) Zach found one of the gas-powered heat lamps. He huddled under it, wished heartily for Leah’s tipsy company, nursed his gratis mug of coffee (in a new insulated mug with his father’s face on it, no less!) and waited for the obligatory fly-by.

It took a half-an-hour for his parents to work their way around the reception and get to him. He almost hated it worse when his mother was there—her smile seemed genuine, but he was never really sure with her.

“Zach, darling—why didn’t you sit with us?” she asked, taking his hands in hers and going in to kiss his cheek. Her dress was a sort of sequined taffeta, and it whispered loudly when she leaned. She turned at the last moment so that the flash of the camera could blind them both and Zach turned back to her and tried to make his five minutes count.

“Because I got here late,” he said truthfully. Only by a few moments, really, but he hadn’t wanted to put his parents out. “I had to talk to a friend before I left. You’ve been unavailable for brunch.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” his mother said, moueing sweetly for the camera. “The last few months have been a whirlwind—it looks like your father actually has a shot this time!”

“Which is why I wanted to talk to you,” Zach said, and suddenly his father wanted in the conversation.

“Why—are you finally interested in helping with the campaign?” He shook his son’s hand and smiled as the camera went off. It was like they didn’t even have to think about it—every reaction went with a pose. Well, let’s see what pose they chose for this.

“No, actually. I, uhm, I wanted to talk to you about something personal, but you never got back to me, so I thought I’d warn you in case it hit the news, which it might do since you didn’t want to talk to me personally.”

Uh-oh. That got his parents’ attention. “Mr. Crosby, could you leave us a moment?”

Gordon Driscoll dismissed his aide, and the man—short, balding, fortyish and invisible—ushered the photographer away as he went.

“What have you done?” his mother asked, her matronly smile all but gone.

“Nothing. But I’d really like to go out on a date, and given that I’m gay, and with you two, it’s actually a meet-the-press moment.”

There was a sudden moment of shock, and Zach hopped up and down on his toes. Suddenly he wished he’d brought Leah, because she would have been so proud of that.

“You’re not gay,” his father told him dismissively.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“But you date women!” his mother protested.

“Name one!”

They both stopped, mouths slightly open, eyes wide.

“But—but your father’s campaign….” his mother sputtered. “How could you do this to him!”

“I can’t wait for your campaign to clear so I can get laid!” Zach snapped, and he was loud enough for most of the beautiful people in the expensive clothes to turn around to see what the fuss was about.

“What do you want from us?” his father asked coldly. “You come here, in a public venue and—”

Okay. Well, at least Zach knew what to expect. “All I want to know,” he said, interrupting, “is if I need to move either my residence or my business. And I need to know if my employees lose their discount if they rent from one of your properties. They need to know, as soon as possible, so there’s that too. Have your lawyers contact me. But tell them to watch their language, because if you try to make this about the gay, I’ll fight and I’ll fight ugly.”

And with that he bowed slightly and turned around and walked away.

 

 

“YOU DID what?”

He grimaced at Leah, and scrubbed his face with his hands. Leah was scanning the papers that had just been delivered complete with vellum envelope and gold seal, and he knew what they said, because the lawyers had called him on a Sunday and told him what they said. While his father couldn’t evict him or change his rent or even refuse to renew his lease for the apartment, the same did not go for the business address, and Zach was going to have to spend his next month frantically tracking down a new building that his firm could afford, and then moving four years of accrued stuff from one building to the other.

“I outed myself to my family?” Zach said, wrinkling his nose. “I’m sorry?”

Leah tapped a foot encased in a frighteningly bright-fuchsia-and-gold pump, and scraped her fingers through her lime-colored hair. “Wow. Wow. I mean, I thought you were kidding. I mean—I mean, you go to those benefits, and everyone’s so pretty, and there’s champagne in a fucking fountain—I had no idea!”

Zach shrugged, telling himself it didn’t hurt. It couldn’t hurt. Why would it hurt? If he had to be penciled into his parents’ schedule to out himself, odds were good they weren’t close.

“Well, you know. I guess the train really was a fair assessment of them,” he said, and tried not to let his voice shake. “But, I’m sorry it had to be here. Here is all of you guys. At least if it was just me, I could find my own damned apartment.” His apartment really was huge, he thought dismally. He could use a smaller apartment.

“Why don’t you move?” Leah asked, and Zach gave her a weak smile, unsupported by his heart.

“I like the view.”

She sighed and moved close enough to pat his cheek. “Well, good. Because I think you just went to a whole lot of time and expense to make that view your personal property, baby. And Jenn’s gonna be pissed, because she was enjoying the hell out of Frisbee too.”

Zach’s smile grew sounder, even if it was still crooked. “You know,” he said meditatively, “I haven’t been to Monterey since I was a kid. Before dad started running for office, we had a cottage off of Pebble Beach. I really loved it there. Maybe, we get this done, you, me, Jenn, we drive down to Monterey and spend a weekend. Watch whales, play on the beach—just, you know.”

“Get out of the city and go somewhere fun?” Leah said, and because they were in his office—his nice, big, important looking office with the dark-paneled wood and the cream-colored carpeting—she could give him a brief peck on the cheek. He was getting used to that from her. He was getting used to having friends. He was even getting used to the idea that Sean might want to see him sometime out of the elevator.

“Yeah,” he said with dignity. “Go be somewhere outside the box.”

“Good,” she said. “I think you’ve been in that box for way too long.”

He wasn’t sure how he would have made it through the next two months without her.

The first month sucked hard enough—he had to find the new space, make a bid, secure the loan, all while servicing his clients, whom he absolutely couldn’t let down. How could he look at the teacher with four kids who’d had her schedule completely rearranged when she was on pregnancy leave and tell her that she wasn’t important enough to fight for? How about the gay teacher who’d been let go midsemester because a student had walked in on him during his prep period while he was talking on the phone to his husband about who was going to pick the dog up from the veterinarian, and who suddenly found himself charged with unprofessional conduct for exposing his personal life? What about the strict old battleax whose students had decided to sabotage her career by refusing to take her STAR tests, simply because she refused to be bought?

Zach had grown up with privilege, but he’d never had anyone to fight for him. Now, as he fought for his business in a way he didn’t know he’d ever had the guts to, he realized how proud he was to fight for people who didn’t get enough as it was.

And, in the middle of this, he had to tell his staff why they were moving.

Since more than one of his employees was not only from the LGBT community, but actively in the community, he was pretty sure nobody at the firm was going to shun the boss for being gay.

But explaining that Daddy was just that much of a douche bag was humiliating.

Oddly enough, Leah helped with that too—but probably not in any way she’d planned.

On the first day of unpaid overtime, when the whole office was in packing the least-necessary stuff and preparing to move it, he called them all in to explain why exactly they’d lost their lease on the pricey commercial building they occupied now, and why they were moving to something a lot less opulent—and for some of them, a lot farther away.

“I’ve heard the rumors,” he said apologetically, because Leah had been the one to pass the rumors up to him. “You’re worried about mismanagement; you’re worried about missing funds. The truth is, we were in this building on the sufferance of my father—I’m Gordon Driscoll’s kid, and he owns the building. I just came out to my parents—”

The smattering of applause surprised him, but he managed to bow through his blush anyway.

“—and their response was to revoke my business lease. Fortunately, the language around your discounts for those of you who are renting from a Driscoll property is not affected—believe me, that was the first thing I looked for, since I rent from him too.” Polite laughter, and some exchanged glances of relief. “Anyway—I’m sorry my personal life—”

“What personal life?” Edward, the first lawyer he’d ever hired, said from the back. Edward was a nice guy, with long Midwestern features, dark hair, and blue eyes, who was also wild for his college professor boyfriend, and had a way of being kind when clients were more hysterical than helpful.

“Well, yeah, that was sort of the point,” Zach said, and the laughter, again, was helpful. “Anyway—”

And that was when he saw the cash changing hands, most of it ending up with Leah.

“You had a pool on me?” he asked, amused. “You had inside information!”

Leah smirked. They were all in jeans today, but hers were lime green. Her T-shirt was fuchsia. “Yeah, but the pool started before you and me got tight. And I waited until you came out to the office yourself to collect, so karmically, I’m good.” He grinned at her, loving all of her color and vibrancy. When he thought of his life earlier this year, it had been all charcoal gray, like his suits, but color and motion—that was attractive. It’s why he loved… uhm….

“It’s only karmically good if you get lunch today,” he decided before he could finish that thought, and suddenly he really was everyone’s favorite boss. Leah’s included.

 

 

HE SAW Sean that night, for the first time in a month since the benefit at Golden Gate Park. God, had he really been that busy?

He must have been, getting up early, coming home at midnight, and now, here they were, on a Saturday night, both of them staggering in around eleven. Zach still had on the jeans and old college sweatshirt he’d worn while packing, his hair was mussed, and he was well aware the circles under his eyes were dark and deep. So Zach was still tired from being a workaholic, but he couldn’t be sure where Sean had been.

“I worked a late show,” Sean said, as they hit the lobby together. It was like he’d read Zach’s mind. “What the hell happened to you?”

Zach smiled, almost giddy to see him after their last trip in the elevator. “Work,” he said serenely. “I didn’t get evicted, but my whole office had to move to… crap. I forget the address. It’s down by Brannan somewhere. I’ll remember when all our letterhead changes. Jesus. I need to get Leah right on that.”

Leah would be happy to change their letterhead and stationery—he just needed to remember to ask. He smiled at Sean beatifically as he leaned against the back of the elevator, and he was so tired, his eyes drifted shut between the ground floor and….

Ding!

His eyes flew open. “We’re here?” he whined, and knew it for a whine. “Fourteenth floor already? Damn. Damn. I haven’t seen you in a month. I just wanted to…. God. I’m sorry. We can ride the elevator again later,” he promised. “I swear. I’ll be witty. I will. I’ll make you want to talk to me. Just not today.” Oh, hell. He’d been a rock over the last month. He’d been a pillar of grown-up fortitude and “we’re fighting the good fight!” rhetoric, but, dammit, the whole time, when he’d been coming out to his parents, when he’d been dealing with the paperwork asking him to vacate—and the hurt that came from knowing his father’s political career really was more important than his own son—he’d been promising himself, what?

“You were going to be my dessert,” he said soberly.

Sean’s eyes widened. His mouth quirked up a little too, and he shook his head while he guided Zach out of the main elevator and over to the express elevator. He hit the “door closed” button and positioned Zach a little more closely to him. “You are either really stoned, or you’re dog tired. I’m going to vote on the second one, since I haven’t seen you for a month.”

“We had to move,” Zach said, watching as the numbers on the readout went up, and Sean was still in the car with him. Wow. He’d had dreams about this. They’d been going up, up, up, and they would end up in bed, right?

But no. That’s probably not what was going to happen. Not tonight. Tonight he smelled like sweat and he couldn’t keep two thoughts in his silly little head.

“Move? Why?”

Sean looped his arm more tightly around Zach’s shoulders, and it was warm and friendly and Zach leaned into it, not thinking about passion or kissing or anything but that he needed a warm and friendly arm.

“Because I came out to my father, and he can’t evict me, or even raise the rent from here, but the office space—that contract was worded differently. That they could revoke. And they did. And now it’s all about how to keep my employees employed and my clients from exploding and…. God. You smell good.” He lowered his head and buried his nose into Sean’s neck, and inhaled. Yup, he was back to the rainy body soap again.

“You should wear this kind always,” he said into Sean’s neck. “Always. I want to smell this on you forever.”

Sean chuckled and it was such a warm sound, Zach wanted to just pull it over his head and around his toes and huddle in it.

There was a “ding,” muffled by the heat of Sean’s body and the hollow of his neck and Sean pulled on his shoulders.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s go.”

Zach allowed himself to be guided out of the elevator, and then he looked up and sort of leaned right to his door. He fumbled in his pocket for his key and when he pulled it out, Sean took it from him gently and opened his door.

Zach thought it would be over then, and he yearned rather wistfully for a kiss at the door, but Sean had other ideas. That warm arm wrapped around his shoulders again, and he was being guided through the darkened apartment.

“Holy Christ, would you look at that view!” Sean breathed, and Zach could only look at Sean’s lean profile, with the bony jaw and the bobbing Adam’s apple, and freckles you could almost see in the moonlight.

“’S awesome,” he agreed soberly.

Sean turned toward him and rolled his eyes. “You are a crackup like this. I think getting you drunk would be like giving a cat catnip—we could laugh for hours.”

“And then I’d go down on you and then I’d throw up!” Because Zach remembered that much from college.

Sean cackled. “Well, maybe not get you drunk if you’re going to go down on me, ’kay?”

“I’m probably not good at blowjobs,” Zach apologized. He felt like he owed full disclosure. “Not enough practice.”

Sean steered him into the bedroom and shook his head in wonder. “Well that is a sin I’d like to correct—some other time.”

“Of course. You have to get back in the elevator and go away. Always with you, it’s the going away.”

“Here, sit down on this pristinely made bed. God, it’s a nice place, but everything’s black and gray. Doesn’t anybody live here?”

Zach felt the bed under his bottom, and then Sean knelt at his feet and unlaced his shoes. Zach ran his fingers through Sean’s hair, because it was there, and this was his dream and it was something he wanted to do.

“No,” Zach said softly as his tennis shoes were popped off. “Nobody lives here. Not even me. Whee!” Because there went his socks, and his feet felt wonderful free.

“Now stand up and we’ll get your pants and sweatshirt,” Sean mumbled, but something was wrong with his voice.

Zach did what he said, and allowed himself to be undressed down to his boxers and T-shirt like a child. “You sound sad. I don’t like it when you’re sad. I wanted to make a job for you, out of thin air. Did you know that?”

Sean pulled back the covers and nudged him into bed, pulling the black comforter up to his ears. “That’s sweet, my prince in the tower, but real life doesn’t work like that.”

“Someday I’ll figure out what that’s like,” Zach mumbled. Anything, he wanted to say anything to keep Sean there, one more minute, in his bedroom, talking in the dark.

“What what’s like?” The bed sank next to him and Zach felt delicate fingers stroking through his hair.

“Real life.”

“You’re the one who relocated your entire office to come out of the closet. You tell me.”

“Lonely,” Zach mumbled, feeling tearful and a little broken.

“Sh….” He didn’t imagine Sean’s kiss on his forehead, did he? “You’re exhausted, buddy. Time to sleep.”

“But I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone, like a dream.”

There was a sigh, and some violent rustling next to him. “Scoot over.”

Zach did, and Sean lay down on top of the comforter next to him, wearing his boxers and T-shirt. “I’ve got an early matinee,” Sean said softly. His phone glowed softly as he set an alarm on it. “I’ve got to be up at seven.”

Zach buried his nose in Sean’s neck and murmured, “Thank you.”

“You know, you do know where I live,” Sean said softly.

“That’s not how it works,” Zach said, feeling loopy. “The prince in the tower needs rescuing. The peasant on the fourteenth floor has it all figured out on his own.”

Soft laughter ruffled Zach’s hair. “True. And, I gotta admit, the tower has a lot more privacy.”

“Mmhm….”

Oh, the things Zach wanted to do with all the privacy….

And on that note he fell asleep.

 

 

HE WOKE up alone, but there was a piece of his old company letterhead next to his pillow, probably from a pad he kept in the kitchen.

See you in the elevator, sweet prince. When your life is settled, maybe I can visit your tower again.

Sean Mallory

He looked at the note and smiled.

Sean Mallory.

Very carefully, before he took a shower and brushed his teeth or anything, he folded that piece of paper up and put it in his wallet, behind his driver’s license. Sean Mallory, Apartment 1409.

That right there was real.

 

 

IT TOOK another month before his life was settled again. Then, one morning, he stepped outside his door and watched Jace and Quent disappear into the elevator, and realized that, oh hell yes, it was mid-to-late August, school might have started, and he might actually see Sean today.

His heart pounded while he waited for the elevator to return, and when the door opened….

Sean stepped out and right into his arms.

“Ohmygod!”

And then he didn’t have anything to say, because Sean’s mouth was on his, and his lips were soft and his tongue was sweeping in and….

Sean pulled back and grinned. “You’re a terrible kisser. I’ve waited for that for months, and that’s all you’ve got for me?”

“Uhm… I’m surprised. How would you fix it? I’m surprised!”

Sean went to step back, but some weird constriction thing happened to Zach’s arms, and he wasn’t letting go. Sean’s wicked expression, the kind with the arched eyebrows, sobered, became gentle, and he nuzzled Zach’s cheek and this time, when he stepped back, Zach let him go.

“I’ll give you kissing lessons later. Right now, we’re both running late.”

“So, lessons—that implies I’ll get more kissing, right?”

“You are so not suave and sophisticated, you know that?”

“I’m aware. So, kissing?”

Sean laughed, grabbed his hand, and pushed the down button. “I’ve got an in-service today—let me not be the slacker who gets there last, okay?”

“So school hasn’t started yet?”

“Monday—why?”

Zach shifted a little, uncomfortable about asking, but not wanting this moment to end. “See, my secretary Leah and her roommate Jenn—we were meeting for Frisbee on Saturdays, but I screwed that up with the whole ‘hey, let’s move the office in an insane amount of time!’ and I offered to make it up by taking them to Monterey for two days, like, Friday through Sunday, and it wouldn’t be a sex thing, seriously, it would be a date thing, not that I—” He stopped babbling and closed his eyes because he wasn’t sure if that look in Sean’s eyes was pity or fear, but he was pretty sure it was no.

Sean kissed him and pulled back, and he had to open his eyes to see whether that was no or not.

It was still no, but the genuine regret sort of helped.

“I’m never going to get everything done in time,” Sean said, shrugging. “I mean, I know you don’t teach, but, it’s like, we get two paid days to do a week’s worth for work, and I haven’t taught this class from beginning and there’s so much I need to—”

Ding!

Zach nodded, and gestured for him to leave first, but Sean didn’t move.

“I love that you asked me,” he said helplessly. “I just—”

“I get it,” Zach said quietly. “I defend teachers all the time. Your hours are insane. I forgot, that’s all.” He glanced up, and people he didn’t know and didn’t recognize were waiting to get on the elevator. “C’mon. We can talk in the lobby.”

They walked out of the elevator and stepped to the side.

“Our timing!” Sean muttered ruefully. “It… it sucks. It does. But I’m… I’m dying to give you kissing lessons, and….”

“And we’ve got to go.”

Sean looked down for a moment, and Zach followed his gaze.

And squeezed their twined fingers, surprised, because clasping Sean’s hand felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Sean pulled their hands up and kissed his knuckles. “I will see you next week,” he said quietly. “Wait for me on the fourteenth floor, and we can go down together.”

Zach grinned. “Yeah. It’s dating by elevator!”

Sean’s entire face went slack for a minute, and his eyes went heavy-lidded, and his hand shook in Zach’s. “That… that is my smile,” he said breathlessly. “Promise, you won’t smile like that for anyone but me.”

Zach didn’t have any words for that. He had no frame of reference for being possessed. No understanding of what it meant to be desired wholly for himself. His lips parted, and he looked helplessly at the blue-eyed boy who had done this to him.

Sean let out an impatient whine, said, “Those eyes… dammit, I’ve got to go!” and kissed Zach’s knuckles before turning around and running out the double lobby doors.

Zach watched him go, and then turned and followed, turning right instead of left because his office was still that way, and walking the extra four blocks in a daze.

 

 

MONTEREY WAS gorgeous—even if he and the girls weren’t staying on Pebble Beach. He told Leah and Jenn it was his treat, so he rented a suite for two days at a hotel on the waterfront, and listening to the two of them ooh and ahh over the view was totally worth the expense.

“Holy fucking Jesus,” Jenn muttered as they stood at the window and looked out over the ocean. “I can’t even believe this funky bullshit. Leah, you have the best boss ever.”

Zach smiled quietly at her, and was the sudden recipient of a squishy, chubby, bubbly hug.

“You look like we squashed your kittens, baby. This was supposed to be a fun trip!”

Zach didn’t know what to do with that much hugging. He stroked her blonde hair awkwardly and went to step away, and found Leah behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

“You didn’t talk the whole way down,” she mumbled against his back.

“I’m not exactly Mr. Personality in the best of times,” he said, ducking his head.

“Yeah, but Zach!” Leah moved around him but her arms stayed firmly planted at his ribs.

“God you’re short,” he said, wondering how he’d managed to work with her for three years and live without the hugs and the companionship and the crude sense of humor and the best friend who made him laugh.

“Why didn’t you ask the guy to come?” Jenn asked, squinting at him. Yeah, she looked like a plump little Persian kitten, but she was sort of damned smart. “I mean, yeah, we didn’t want to hear mansex, but if you’re treating to a suite and a trip to the aquarium—that’s almost, I don’t know, a college trip right there.”

Zach shrugged and tried to extricate himself. “He couldn’t make it,” he said, trying not to drown in self-pity. There were sea lions barking outside. Sea lions. Which, of course, they had in San Francisco, but somehow they were better in Monterey. And some of the best food in the world being served around them. Again, they had that in San Francisco, but Monterey also had the aquarium, which, as far as he could see, hadn’t gotten less fun since he’d been there in high school. And the ocean, which, well, he saw every day, but it was better when it was out another window.

“Wait.” Leah backed up. “I didn’t know you asked him?”

Work was still a little nuts from the move. They had actually not had time to do more than establish a time for when they’d meet to get the rental car before work had been out and they’d both been hurrying home to pack.

“Yeah. Well. It was this morning. He….” Zach smiled in memory. “He rode the elevator up to meet me.”

“So the fuck what?” Jenn asked, and Leah smacked her in the arm.

“So! That’s huge. That’s… that’s… that’s… breaking outside the code of elevators! Oh, Zach! I’m so happy for you!”

Zach beamed at her, because she understood. “I… well, he’s starting school next week, and it’s a new job, and he’s so excited. I just really… I don’t know.” He sighed. “I need a gesture.”

Leah grinned. “A romantic gesture?”

Zach smiled quietly back. “Yeah!”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “I would be more impressed if you showed up at his place with a condom and said, ‘I’m sick of this shit with the elevators already.’”

Leah shook her head. “No. Jenn, hon, he wants something that lasts longer than it takes for the jizz to cool.”

Zach backed away, cheeks flaming. “You guys…. God. Unpack. Dress. Jesus, let’s go eat.”

Jenn looked the three of them up and down—they were all wearing jeans and sweatshirts and tennis shoes—and she shook her head. “Baby, I love that you think we’re the kind of girls who dress for dinner, but after that drive? Maybe you should just take us to a bar.”

The Crown and Anchor sat in downtown Monterey, and they didn’t mind jeans.

“This is swank,” Jenn said, “but not intimidating. I approve.”

“I like the big brass plates everywhere,” Leah said. “And the dark beams with the white walls. It’s a lot like the pubs in England.”

Zach looked at her, surprised. Hawaii seemed far enough away. “You’ve been to England?”

“Yeah, summer trip to Europe, you?”

“Same.” He lost himself in his menu then, thinking about travelling with Sean, because he’d probably memorize all of the facts on the menu for his students, and he’d probably be looking for costumes and….

And he’d probably be just as wonderful in a restaurant as he was thirty seconds a day on the elevator.

He was probably even better.

“Zach? Hello, Zach—aren’t you going to order?”

Zach looked up from his menu and said, “Sean. I want one of those.”

Jenn and Leah groaned. “He’ll have the bangers and mash,” Leah told the bemused waiter. “And we’ll have a beer!”

But that right then was when Zach knew—knew for sure—that he was going to have to step outside of the box for good.

 

 

MONDAY MORNING, he got up early enough to brew coffee into the new thermos he’d bought. Hopelessly dorky, it sported “World’s Greatest Teacher” written on the front, and a cartoon featuring a freckled, woebegone guy with a briefcase, a stack of papers, and, of course, a thermos of coffee. They’d stopped in Gilroy and picked up some cherries and melons on the way home from the beach, and he chopped up some of that and put it in a plastic cup, and added a fork and a little bit of packaged biscotti.

And then he made a sandwich and added carrots and a small bag of chips, all of which he’d picked up on the way home the night before.

When it was all assembled (and the coffee was still brewing) he got dressed, grabbed his briefcase, and put the whole works in a little basket that he tried desperately to balance.

The little hop from elevator to elevator at the nineteenth floor felt so smooth by this time, he’d forgotten that he was supposed to have an express elevator from the top floors to the bottom all along. (He hoped that one guy’s ghost wasn’t opposed to that, and that he’d forgiven his cats.) The doors opened at the fourteenth floor, and he checked his watch—he was about five minutes early, which was perfect.

He’d never realized that walking through a door was terrifying.

And, oh hell, someone he’d never seen before opened it—a tiny man in a bright-blue paisley shirt and red jeans stared blankly at him through fashionably thick-rimmed glasses.

“Uhm, Sean—?”

“Sean! Prince Charming is here with coffee, get your ass in gear!”

Zach’s hands started shaking from sheer nerves. “The entire fourteenth floor heard you.”

“Oh calm down!” With a little swish of his hand, the guy gestured Zach inside the apartment of chaos. Zach’s basket threatened to tumble, but the little man rescued it deftly. He peered into the mass of people moving, dressing, and (in one case) folding the hide-a-bed with deft movements. “Sean!” he snapped. “Man, stop mugging my boyfriend for toast, your guy here brought you breakfast. And lunch! Now get him out of here before we scare the shit out of him.”

Suddenly five sets of eyes were turned toward Zach, and Zach tried to take inventory. Wendy was in the middle of fastening her bra, and she gave a little head bob before resuming dressing from the pile of clothes that sat on a battered recliner. The other girl—taller than Wendy but no less thin, with brown hair—actually had a bra on, and even slacks, but she was shirtless and in the process of putting one arm in a dress shirt while using her other hand to slip on a very practical black pump. The straight guy (he had to be; he was at the hide-a-bed) and was wearing boxers, and, well, yeah, he was decked to the nines with muscles and a hairy chest and a nice ass, but he had sort of a vacant expression in his eyes that indicated a complete lack of self-awareness.

And there, by the toast, was Sean, next to a shorter—but still taller than his boyfriend!—man who was wearing a Japanese silk robe and bunny slippers.

Sean turned to Zach with a dreamy expression and said, “You brought coffee? And fruit? And biscotti? Oh my God—marry me!”

“Okay,” Zach said, completely overwhelmed. “Sure. I’ll be just outside.” And then he made his escape, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it with a thundering heart.

Oh hell. Talk about a madhouse! He… he couldn’t. All those people, all in that tiny space, and they all….

“Hey!” The door opened behind him, and Zach moved enough to let Sean out. Sean had his satchel over his shoulder and the little gift basket in his hand. “You brought me coffee! And everything—that’s awesome! Don’t bail!”

“People,” Zach said numbly. “You have more friends in that room than I’ve had in my entire life.”

“Ohmygod!” Sean muttered. “It’s like dating Rapunzel!”

That actually cheered Zach up. “Hey, we are dating. Excellent. Are you ready to go?”

“You made lunch too—and the bag matches the mug!”

Zach grinned, calming down a little from being faced with all of those people. “I did. I got them when we were shopping in Monterey—but my friends helped me pick them out.”

“See! You have friends!” Sean nudged him with an elbow and took a sip of his coffee. “Mm… that’s good, but, uhm, really sweet.”

“Too sweet?” Zach asked anxiously. Oh no. He made dessert coffee for someone who liked it black! The horror!

“I like it this way, but I’ll get fat really quick.”

Zach turned a little in the hallway as they waited for the elevator. Sean was wearing jeans, a black sport coat, and a neatly pressed white shirt with a thin red tie.

“You look great,” he said quietly, feeling privileged to be in on the ground floor of this outfit. “But your tie is crooked.” He set his briefcase down and straightened Sean’s tie and collar, and paused, his hands on Sean’s collar. Sean’s hands were full of his gift basket, so Zach did all the work, leaning forward and kissing him softly.

When he pulled back, they both smiled into each other’s eyes for a moment. “You’re going to do great,” Zach said, and Sean grinned.

“You already made it a good day!”

Ding!

 

 

ZACH BROUGHT him coffee every morning that week. After that initial shock, he got used to knocking on the door and walking into various stages of chaos (the worst being when Sean’s alarm had failed to go off and the entire household was naked and running in six different directions. Zach had simply shouted “I’ve got your lunch and coffee!” and then sat down in the corridor until Sean emerged.)

Sean hadn’t been wearing anything exciting—just his basic teaching suit—but as he’d emerged from his apartment every morning, the smile on his face to see Zach waiting for him—that had been pure magic.

On Friday morning, the elevator opened to the lobby with Sean in full cry about his students, and the ones who were already troublemakers and the ones who were terrifyingly smart, and it wasn’t until the traitorous “Ding!” that they both realized that, per their usual custom, their time together was at an end.

Zach—as usual—gestured Sean ahead of him, but once they cleared the elevator, Sean turned around.

“This can’t be the end for the week,” he said, smiling, and Zach shrugged.

“It’s Friday—I’m usually late on Friday.”

“How late?” Sean’s eyes were anxious, and Zach ducked his head shyly.

“After I work out and everything, around nine or ten.”

Sean’s face lit up. “Make it nine thirty,” he said, taking charge, and Zach blushed.

“Should I come get you?” He dreaded thinking about that apartment in the evenings, but he’d do it.

“If you need to,” Sean said, and then he captured the back of Zach’s head with his hand and kissed him, hard and deep enough to make Zach open his mouth and moan, then pulled back. “You’re a little better at kissing, but we still need to work on it.”

Zach nodded dumbly, and he swallowed, knowing what this meant, but so, so ready for it. “I could really use more kissing lessons,” he said, hoping.

Sean’s smile was sweet, and it pulled up at the corner. “Well, I’d be willing to tutor you after hours.” He kissed Zach pertly and then pulled away. “But first, our day awaits.”

Zach almost skipped to work.

“And here’s your coffee,” he sang, putting Leah’s coffee and croissants on her desk. “And what do you have waiting for me?”

Leah looked at him apologetically and gestured to his office. Three people sat there, two middle-aged women in tears and a thin-faced young man looking close to tears himself. “Zach, it’s bad.”

Zach blinked. “Bad. Explain bad.”

“They run the school’s GSA. The kids asked for a list of books they could read—these guys got a list of books from their local YA librarian, and the parents complained. Bam! Yesterday morning, they get taken out of their classrooms.”

Zach blinked. “That’s….”

“Heinous. Yeah, I know. But there’s three of them, and Edward doesn’t get here for another hour. It’s you and them. I’ve rescheduled most of your stuff until Monday, and I’ll get Lori here to mind the phones while I go in and take notes, but baby, we’re talking a two-hour interview and all the shit that comes after.”

Zach sighed. “Well, enjoy your coffee,” he murmured grimly. “I’m going to go get pissed off.”

Leah surprised him with a giggle. “That’s something. You know? A year ago, I would have said you don’t have it in you, but now? Kick ass and take names, kemosabe—I’ll just watch you work.”

And work he did. He interviewed and investigated and assigned and deposed—and, of course, dealt with the things he’d already planned on doing that day.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to make it to the gym.

By the time nine o’clock rolled around, he realized that he needed to shove all of his briefs in his briefcase and take them home.

The thought was depressing.

“Goddammit,” he muttered. “I finally have someone waiting for me, and I have to bring my work home for the weekend?”

“Wait!” Leah had just stuck her head in—probably to say goodnight, and to have him walk her out to her bus stop. “You’ve got someone waiting for you?”

“Maybe,” Zach muttered, grabbing his coat and his scarf from the rack in the corner. “I brought him coffee every morning—I was… you know… sort of hoping….”

“For a real date.” Leah practically crowed. “Excellent—well, text him and tell him you’re on your way.”

Zach’s pained expression made her bang her head on the doorframe.

“Okay—so, how long have you known him?”

“Shut up,” he murmured.

“And you’ve actually kissed him—you told me that.”

“Several times.”

“You know his last name.”

“Mallory.”

Leah sighed. “Zach….” she whined. “Please tell me you’ll get his phone number this weekend?”

Zach found his smile. “I think, if nothing else, that could be arranged.”

 

 

HE WAS not so sure though as he hurried into his building and realized it was, oh hell! Nine forty-five. God, let Sean still be awake, please let him be still awake, please let him be….

Sitting on the bench next to the elevator, wearing yoga pants and a long-sleeved baseball shirt, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

Zach had to draw a little nearer, just to make sure it was him.

“Sean?” he said softly, and Sean’s eyes remained closed but the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Someone had a late night,” he murmured.

“I didn’t even make it to the gym.”

Sean’s eyes opened, and he regarded Zach from only a few inches distance. “What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Zach told him. He placed a very careful kiss on Sean’s cheek. “Right now, do you want to come up and… uhm… I’ve got movies! Or, uhm, a soda. Or… coffee. I’ve got coffee and biscotti! Or….”

“Sex, Zach,” Sean said soberly. “I think we can skip the preliminaries. We need to have sex.”

Zach felt color wash his face. “Maybe more kissing lessons,” he said, hoping. “And, you know. Phone numbers?”

Sean’s eyes narrowed wickedly. “Okay. That’s a deal. Phone numbers in the elevator. Kissing lessons in the living room. Sex in the bedroom. We’ve got this locked. Now let me up, and we can make it happen.”

Zach backed up and offered him a hand, and Sean took it—and used the leverage to launch himself at Zach. Their mouths met, melded, and time ceased to exist, as did the rules of physics.

The elevator dinged, and Sean steered them inside, pressed the button for floor thirty, and the kiss went on.