Rasul threw up his hands. “What in the world do you use your phone for?”
Jacob appeared to be confused again. “Texting and phone calls?”
Unable to take it anymore, Rasul sat on a short railing with his back to the bay. “Wow.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Jacob seemed annoyed. “Did you bring me out here to quiz me on my social media usage?”
“No, I—” Rasul paused a moment to appreciate how much he’d messed this up. “I wanted to know why you were acting so weird around me so I could fix it.”
“I’m not….” As he trailed off, Jacob’s shoulders rounded forward and his hands fell back to his side. “Very well. I’m probably a little awkward. But it’s not because you did anything to upset me.”
“You’re sure it’s not something lousy about me online? Not even one of the news articles?”
“No—I mean, yes, I’ve seen some articles, but they don’t upset me.”
Liar. The gossip did upset him, Rasul could tell, but he could also tell that wasn’t the source of his date’s irritation. “Then why—?”
Blushing, Jacob half turned away. “I don’t really want to talk about it, please.”
“Why not?”
“I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“But what’s the reason you don’t want to talk about it?”
Jacob pressed fingers to the side of his head as if he were warding off a headache.
Part of Rasul was able to see he should leave the poor man alone. He owed him a lot, so at the very least he could pay the man back with silence. Except another part of him—the part that was still mad about the loss of his phone and really, really wanted to call Adina—that bit of him was desperate for something to soothe his ragged edges, wouldn’t let it go.
As it had for the last few months, that part of him won. “I’m happy to apologize,” he said. “Generally or specifically.”
Sighing, Jacob lowered his hand. He stood at the rail beside Rasul, put his hands in his pockets, and stared across the greenbelt at the bay beyond. “You have nothing to apologize for, and I’m not angry.”
“But you are upset.”
Jacob tipped his head back and stared up at the sky. Rasul shifted so he could study him. The guy really was cute, in a buttoned-up way. Not at all Rasul’s style. Not usually. But still cute.
“Do you read Neil Gaiman?” Jacob asked at last.
“Obviously. What does he have to do with this?”
“He’s said on numerous occasions it’s best not to meet heroes, that even if they become good friends, they can’t be heroes any longer.” He extended an arm and picked at invisible lint in a meticulous way. “I think he’s a wise man, and he’s also a hero of mine, which is why I’ve gone out of my way never to meet him.”
The puzzle pieces began to click into place. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me….” He stopped, uncharacteristically too shy to finish the thought.
“Your novels and your early interviews have been a very important part of my life. Yes, you’re a bit of a hero to me.” Jacob folded his arms again, his cheeks staining red. “Fine, you’re quite a bit of a hero to me. I had fully intended to spend tonight processing the fact that you came into my bookshop, asked me for book recommendations, had a cup of my tea, then signed my original copies before escaping out my back door. Now I’m expected to behave normally while being your date at a city function. It’s a lot.”
Many, many people had worked hard to flatter Rasul over the years, but nothing had ever affected him quite like this. For a moment he couldn’t reply, could only watch Jacob as his hair and the tails of his suit ruffled in the evening breeze.
Eventually he said, “You sure played it cool at the bookshop, if that’s the case.”
“Well, I didn’t want to look ridiculous.”
He said it like it was a cardinal sin. “For the record, I think you’d look good ridiculous.”
Jacob cast him a cool glance. “I thought I looked like Mr. Rogers.”
Yep, that one had gotten under his skin. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s the navy blue sneakers. Well, and the cardigan. Plus you’re a little prim. You wear it well, though.” He winced as Jacob turned annoyed again. “Sorry. Probably your hero never said that.”
“It’s fine.” Jacob sat beside Rasul and stared at the concrete patio in front of them. “I don’t have some delusion this is a real date or that someone like you would be interested in someone like me. I don’t want you to be interested. I just….”
God, but it was weird how drawn Rasul was to this guy. Not sexually, not like he wanted to tear his clothes off, but… drawn all the same. He wanted to know what he’d said or done that had made him this guy’s hero, but in such a controlled, calm manner he could hold him at arm’s length. He wanted to know what about his work had drawn him in.
He wanted to see another flare of visceral passion in this guy’s eyes.
That he was Jacob’s hero, though…. He’d been told that before, but never like this. Never by somebody who seemed to know exactly what it meant.
Probably he should settle down and try to respect this man a little more.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked at last. When Jacob shook his head, he pressed the issue. “I won’t be upset. I’m flattered as hell and sure I don’t deserve it, but I’m ready to honor your wishes.”
“No.” Something about Jacob’s heavy sigh broke Rasul’s heart. “It’s fine.”
“It sure doesn’t sound fine. I mean, I know I’ve already been a disappointment, but maybe we can put putty in the dam leak or something.”
Jacob regarded him quizzically. “How in the world have you been a disappointment?”
Rasul snorted and kicked at the pavement. “God, where do I start? How about with the fact that you were asked to babysit me?”
“I was asked to escort you.”
He should shut up and change the subject. “Yeah, because I’m in serious hot water with my agent.”
So much for changing the subject.
Jacob frowned. “Why?”
Rasul laughed. “Uh, let’s see. Missing my deadline three times, partying too much, missing my first flight here because I let my ex talk me into something stupid, trending on Twitter and Instagram with my name linked to high school girls—”
“That last one wasn’t your fault at all. I’m happy to speak up for you.”
He waved a hand at Jacob. “Won’t do any good. I’ve blown it too many times.” He pulled his horrible phone out of his pocket and waved it in the air between them. “See this? It’s my new phone.”
Jacob tilted his head to the side. “It looks like a very old phone.”
“Bought it at that cellular place on University. Or rather, my agent did, and she made me mail her my actual phone. No internet, no photos, no nothing except her number, Dean Clare’s, and both my parents’. My punishment, my last chance.” He hunched forward. “Except honestly I don’t know that it’s going to work. I think I’ve lost my edge. I’m not the writer you made into a hero. I’m a mess.”