Chapter Two
Icy wind howled along the platform at Huntington Station as Alfie waited for the train, his gloved hands tucked into his pockets and that hot coal of anticipation glowing in his heart.
Tonight was the night. He was going to meet LLB, for real. Find out his name, what he looked like—maybe more. Hell, he was ready for more. A hug, maybe. Even a kiss. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but… Well, he’d slipped a condom into his wallet before he left home. Just in case.
Would it be weird to talk to each other face-to-face? Or would it feel as natural as the rest of their relationship? Would they be gazing into each other’s eyes by the end of the evening, holding hands, making plans?
God, he hoped so. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he tugged off one glove with his teeth and pinged LLB a message: On my way. SEE you soon. x
There was no immediate reply, so he stuck his phone back in his pocket and his hand back into his glove. Damn cold tonight, a sharp nor’easter blowing down the coast and bringing snow on its heels. Dee was running a Christmas market on Friday, and a dusting of the white stuff would be the perfect touch.
A car pulled into the parking lot behind the station. A door slammed. Alfie turned, squinting into the darkness as a figure trotted up the steps to the platform. It was difficult to make him out at first, with his hat pulled low against the biting wind, but then the guy stepped into the lamplight and Alfie groaned.
Leo Novak. Of course it was. Hadn’t they seen enough of each other today?
Novak recognized him with a jolt that echoed Alfie’s own feelings, standing stock still with eyes wide behind his glasses. In another man, Alfie might have found the deer-in-headlights expression appealing. In this case, he just found it irritating. With a curt nod, he turned and paced along the platform to keep warm. In his peripheral vision he sensed Novak pacing in the opposite direction until, like a couple of bookends, they stood at either end of the dark and empty platform.
Suited Alfie just fine. The last thing he needed tonight was Leo Novak’s opinion on the correct use of apostrophes. Or anything else. The guy was a snob and had been nothing but aloof since he’d opened his bookstore just before Christmas last year.
He’d moved in with a truck full of stock that he’d hauled into the store one box at a time and Alfie, being neighborly, had offered a hand. But Novak had declined. “I’m fine,” he’d said with a superior smile. “I can manage.”
Alfie should have taken the hint. Maybe he would have, if Novak hadn’t been so damn cute.
He cast a surreptitious glance along the platform to where the guy was futzing with his phone. On the short side of average, Novak was slender with something of the hipster look about him—all skinny jeans and flannel shirts, an untamed crop of thick dark hair, and heavy glasses he was forever pushing up his nose. He wasn’t classically handsome, but his face was expressive, thoughts constantly flitting across his mobile features. His wide mouth was sensual, his pale eyes clever but reserved, and he had a precise, fastidious way of moving that only accentuated the odd mixture of touchy and vulnerable.
Alfie had fallen for him on the spot and had nursed a pretty hard crush for a couple weeks. Right up until Sean Callaghan’s Christmas party. Even though it was a year ago, Alfie still felt a hot flush of humiliation when he remembered Novak’s brush off: “No offence, Carter, but I prefer the more cerebral type.”
What pissed him off most was that Novak hadn’t even given him a chance—he’d just assumed that Alfie was some dumb mechanic. And maybe Alfie didn’t have much of an education, but he wasn’t stupid. He deserved as much respect as the next guy.
He’d told Novak exactly that, and had taken angry satisfaction in watching him blush. But then Novak had left the party, and Alfie had ended up feeling guilty; he hadn’t meant to drive the guy away. He wasn’t usually confrontational, and if Novak had just apologized, Alfie would have let it drop. But he hadn’t, and the bad feeling had lingered between them all year.
His phone buzzed in his coat, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he smiled at the message.
LLB: Safe journey xx
When he slipped his phone back into his pocket, he slid it down next to his copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion. Since it was the book they’d first bonded over, LLB had suggested they each carry a copy tonight as a way of identifying each other. Alfie’s was brand new, since he preferred audiobooks to the printed word. LLB’s, he imagined, would be well-loved and dog-eared. He had more books than shelf space, he’d confessed once to Alfie, and Alfie had only half-jokingly suggested he come over and put up some new shelves for him.
Stupid, but the idea of caring for someone like that made his heart turn over. It was what he wanted—to make a home for the person he loved. He suspected he’d been looking for it ever since he’d lost his dad, and the idea that he might be able to have it with LLB made him giddy with anticipation.
Usually he was careful not to put the cart before the horse, but when it came to LLB he couldn’t help indulging in a few of his favorite domestic daydreams—cooking Sunday brunch together, folding laundry, going grocery shopping. And he was lost in the fantasy when the train pulled into the station, the noise of its squealing breaks jarring him back to the real world.
Stepping aboard, Alfie met a wall of noise. A whole carriage full of chattering high school students. Spying a couple of empty seats halfway down the carriage, he began to pick his way along the aisle, stepping over backpacks and fugitive soda cans rolling around on the floor, watching where he put his big feet. He wasn’t looking where he was going which was why, when he reached the empty seats, he almost collided with Novak approaching from the opposite end of the carriage.
Awesome.
They each stared at the other for a long beat. Then the train lurched forward, Novak lost his balance, and Alfie grabbed his arm to steady him. An odd little moment passed between them, the impression of Novak’s firm forearm beneath the sleeve of his coat stronger than Alfie could explain, and the complicated look flashing across his expressive face difficult to read. Alfie’s hand lingered as he said, “Go ahead and take the window seat if you like, I prefer the aisle.”
And then the moment was broken, Novak pulled his arm away and muttered, “Thanks.” It sounded like the word had cost him something.
Alfie couldn’t help but smile as he peeled off his coat and shoved it into the rack overhead. “You’re welcome,” he said, not skimping on the sarcasm.
Doing his best to ignore Novak, he sat down and tried to get comfy. He was a big guy, train seats were always too small, and he was conscious of taking up more than his fair share of space—doubly so tonight, with Novak next to him.
Novak, meanwhile, was wriggling himself out of his woolen pea coat while balancing a messenger bag on his lap. Alfie leaned away to give him more room, but not far enough to miss the subtle scent of a rather nice woodsy aftershave. Or the fact that Novak was dressed up—some kind of tweedy jacket over his skinny jeans, a soft-looking sweater, and…
Alfie smirked. “Dude, is that a bowtie?”
Novak twitched, one hand going to his throat. “Do you think it’s too much? I wasn’t sure.”
“Uh…” Thrown by the honest question, Alfie didn’t know what to say. “Depends where you’re going, I guess.”
Fidgeting some more, fussing with folding his coat, Novak said, “A date, as it happens.”
“Really?” He couldn’t imagine Novak on a date, or the type of person who’d want to date a guy so damn prickly. Still, maybe he was great in the sack. He ran his eyes over Novak’s slender body and thought, yeah, a bossy bottom probably. Not really Alfie’s thing. Well, not often. He looked away, made uncomfortable by his turn of thoughts and the unwelcome frisson of heat beneath his skin. Hell, he didn’t even like the guy—he certainly wasn’t hot for him.
He was wired, that was all, high on anticipation of his upcoming liaison.
“No need to sound so surprised,” Novak said, tugging at his tie as if it might be strangling him.
“Just wondering what kind of guy you’d date, is all,” Alfie said. “Do you check their grammar first? Make them sit a test on the first date?”
Novak flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ah. On the second date, then.”
One corner of Novak’s mouth twitched up. “Not that I’d expect you to understand, but I happen to enjoy the company of erudite men.” He glanced at Alfie. “That means—”
“I know what it means, thanks.” Arrogant prick.
Novak opened his mouth as if to say more, but perhaps he saw something in Alfie’s expression that warned him off because he shut up and turned to look out the dark window instead.
Irritated, Alfie decided to disappear into the last few chapters of Emma, so pulled out his phone and earbuds and settled down, eyes closed. For about five minutes, he listened in peace. And then Novak started fidgeting again, his shoulder bumping Alfie’s arm, his knee pressing against Alfie’s thigh. Alfie opened one eye and watched Novak bend over, trying to get something out of his bag while struggling to keep his coat off the floor.
“Need a hand?” Alfie asked, dry as sand.
Novak flashed him a hot look. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He sat up, a water bottle in hand, and turned back to the window. Alfie closed his eyes and returned to Emma, trying to ignore the press of Novak’s shoulder against his bicep and the subtle tang of his aftershave. What was that scent? Cedar?
Breathing deep, he managed to slip back into the story, smiling as Emma’s machinations unspooled—until Novak jabbed him in the ribs with one bony elbow. Alfie startled upright. “Christ’s sake!” He yanked his earbuds out. “Can’t you sit still for five seconds?”
Novak stared in wide-eyed affront. “Well, not with Paul Bunyan taking up half my seat, no!”
Paul Bunyan? Alfie hid a smile. “The seats are small,” he protested. “What do you want me to do? Cut off an arm?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” Novak reached down to his bag again, shoving his coat to one side and half over Alfie’s lap.
“For the love of—Okay.” Alfie stood up, grabbed Novak’s coat, rolled it up and shoved it in the overhead rack with his own. “There. Out of the way.”
“Hey!” Novak half rose, as if he thought Alfie was going to throw the damned thing out the window.
Alfie sat back down. “It’s fine. I’ll get it down for you when we arrive.”
Still half standing, Novak glared at him. “If that’s meant to be a comment on my height—”
“I didn’t say anything about your height.”
“You implied it.”
Alfie lifted an eyebrow. “No, you inferred it.”
“I—” Novak blinked, clearly startled, and Alfie felt an absurd thrill of victory. “I don’t need you to get it down for me.”
“Fine. Then quit whining and sit down.”
He sat, lips pressed into a disgruntled pout. “My phone is in the pocket.”
“You don’t need your phone. The reception’s crappy on the train.” Alfie stuck an ear bud back in and offered the other to Novak. “Here. Wanna share?”
His look of horror was hilarious. “I doubt we have the same musical taste,” he managed to choke out.
Alfie considered correcting him, opened his mouth to say Actually, I’m listening to a book and then changed his mind. He didn’t need to prove anything to this snob. “Suit yourself,” he said, and plugged himself back in.
He stayed like that until the train reached the city and he got too excited to concentrate, not even on Austen. Novak seemed wound equally tight, his legs crossed as he gazed out the window, fingers laced tight around his water bottle. A million miles away. Alfie wondered what he was thinking, then remembered he didn’t care.
He glanced at his phone: 6.15pm. Right on time.
The train slowed as they reached Penn Station and the volume of chatter from the kids around them rose in equal proportion. Alfie got to his feet, pulled his coat down from the rack, and after a hesitation retrieved Novak’s too. He handed it over and Novak snatched it with a glare.
Okay, maybe Alfie had earned that. He had been kind of a dick about the coat.
They had to wait a few moments before they could leave, while the kids got their collective shit together and made their way off the train. It left time for Alfie to say a conciliatory, “Have a good evening.”
Novak returned a tight nod. “You, too,” he said, but his attention was fixed on the doors as if he were desperate to escape. Alfie shared the feeling. An hour on the train with Leo Novak was an hour too long.
But he played the gentleman, standing back to let Novak out. He followed him off the train, watching as Novak hauled the strap of his messenger bag over his head and walked with neat, quick steps along the platform and into the station. The crush of the city soon swallowed him, and then Alfie was alone and free to concentrate on the night ahead.
He pulled away from the stream of people, stopping next to a coffee stand to check the map on his phone. It was a fifteen minute walk from the station to the Whiskey Jack, which was fine: he needed to move after sitting cramped in his seat for an hour and to shake off his nervous tension. He’d still get there in plenty of time—he wanted to be the first to arrive.
“Okay Alfie,” he said, pocketing his phone. “This is it: the moment of truth.”
Shoulders back, he headed out into the crowds and towards the rest of his life.