Chapter 8
Jeremy closed the store about half an hour after Kat left. His brain sighed in relief when he switched off the usual upbeat store music in favour of some low-key acoustic guitar. As Harrison worked on the wall, Jeremy spent time putting together the online orders that had come in through the day. They chatted occasionally, getting to know each other in small ways. The periods of silence between topics were comfortable and relaxed. Jeremy found he enjoyed the novelty of having someone else around while he completed his after-hours work.
His ex-boyfriend, Aaron, had never hung out at the store with him. Aaron’s possessive nature hadn’t lent itself to situations where he didn’t have Jeremy’s undivided attention. Being at the store while Jeremy worked would have irritated the hell out of him. Instead, he’d preferred to go straight home after work and wait for Jeremy to join him there. And if Jeremy ever forgot his lover didn’t cope well with his absence, Aaron’s verbal lashings reminded him when he got home.
Frowning at the now distant memories, Jeremy looked up at Harrison out of the corner of his eye. The other man was still up on the ladder, his focus steady on the wall in front of him as he outlined another letter. Neither of them had spoken for about ten minutes, but that didn’t seem to bother Harrison. He didn’t need Jeremy to entertain him, or make sure his needs were met. In fact, he appeared perfectly content to simply be in the same room together. Compared to Aaron, everything about being around Harrison was so… easy.
“Everything okay?” Harrison had paused to gaze down at him, concern drawing his brows down.
Jeremy nodded. He hadn’t even realised he was staring until Harrison spoke. “Yeah,” he said, hoping to cover the serious nature of his thoughts. “I’m thinking about ordering dinner soon. Do you like Italian?” he asked, using the first cuisine that came to mind.
“Sounds good.” Harrison continued to watch him closely, as though trying to divine the true content of his thoughts, but he didn’t ask any more questions. Jeremy was grateful for his restraint.
He rushed through the last of the customer orders, managing to finish a few minutes before seven o’clock. Digging up the menu for the restaurant, he put in the order for their chosen meals. “I have some soft drinks in the back. Or I can make a run to the liquor store if you’d like something else. Maybe some red wine to go with the pasta?”
“Water is fine for me,” Harrison said, glancing at him for a quick moment. “I don’t drink alcohol and—”
“Sugar is your kryptonite?” Jeremy finished for him, remembering his words at the Comic-Con.
Harrison nodded, his expression guarded. “Exactly.”
Jeremy had other friends who didn’t drink, and knew a health nut or two who refused to consume any type of soft drink, but Harrison was the first who was disciplined enough to stick strictly to water when alternatives were available. He wondered at the reason, but the guarded expression on Harrison’s face killed any additional questions before they could form. He got the impression Harrison was used to being questioned about his choices. So instead, he chose to shrug and say, “Fair enough.” The other man’s chest deflated a fraction and Jeremy was glad he’d kept his curiosity in check.
After a quick trip to the back room, he returned with a can of lemonade for himself and a bottle of water for Harrison. Placing the drinks on the counter, he pulled a chair out into the empty space in front of it and sat down, content to watch Harrison work while they waited for the food to arrive.
He’d been at it for less than two hours, but already Harrison had outlined the letters for about three-quarters of the quotes they’d chosen. Each quote, drawn in a soft white artist’s pencil, had its own particular font, some larger than others. Each letter was perfect, and Jeremy’s chest swelled with pleasure as he drew his eyes across them over and over.
A while later, Harrison glanced down at him. “Aren’t you going to get bored sitting there watching me draw?”
“Not in this lifetime,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “I have a fascination with beautiful writing.”
Harrison’s hand followed the curve of a scripted ‘S’ as he replied. “Why is that, do you think?”
Jeremy smiled. Harrison was still sneaking in those lines fromThePrincess Brideat odd moments. They never failed to make a small part of him purr with satisfaction. “I don’t know,” he said after clearing his throat. “Maybe because writing doesn’t have to be beautiful to fulfil its purpose. And most people only put in as much effort as necessary to be understood. But writing can be an art form, and when it’s done well, the words and the art combined, it can change a life.”
Harrison turned to study him at length. “Such eloquence,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps you do know why, after all.”
“I guess so.” Jeremy was a little surprised himself. “I’ve never tried to put it into words before.”
Turning back to the wall, Harrison started on the next letter. “You do it splendidly.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and Jeremy got up to meet the delivery person. After he’d paid and relocked the door, he carried the bags of food back to the counter, his mouth watering at the smell of hot pasta and garlic bread. “Grub’s up.”
“Great.” Harrison made his way down the ladder and put his equipment on the end of the counter before stretching to relieve the tension in his muscles. Jeremy tried not to stare when the hem of his t-shirt rose to reveal of strip of flat stomach, instead keeping himself busy with opening containers and dishing out plastic cutlery.
Silence fell for a few minutes as they dug into the food with the odd murmur of appreciation.
“You’re good at this,” Jeremy said about halfway through the meal, gesturing to the partially complete wall above their heads. “How did you get started?”
There was a long pause in which Harrison forked up a large piece of chorizo sausage and popped it into his mouth. The timing of it was odd and Jeremy got the impression he did it to give himself time to choose how he would answer. Interesting.
After swallowing, Harrison said, “I had this teacher for a while when I was young. She suggested it as a form of relaxation.” When Jeremy lifted his eyebrows in surprise, Harrison shrugged and added, “What teenage boy doesn’t need to learn how to relax? I was reluctant at first, as you can imagine, but I took to it in the end. Playing with letters, words, shapes. Once I started to get the hang of it I was hooked. Have been ever since.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost fifteen.”
That would have been more than a year after Harrison moved to Australia. He’d said previously he was happy living with his aunty and uncle, but apparently that wasn’t entirely true. “The woman who taught you, was she an art teacher at your high school or something?”
