“But it’s an essay.” Cassidy was twisting her curls into small braids now, her fingers working quickly. “I know it’s not the same. I want to know if mine’s any good, and maybe, you know, you can check for spelling and things like that? My spelling sucks.”
Here, Martin’s colleagues would roll their eyes and mutter about the artificial security blanket of computer spell checkers or the abysmal literacy rates in high school graduates.
The more he rolled the idea around in his head, though, the more he thought there might be some value. Before he’d had to devote all his time to research and teaching classes, he’d done some private tutoring in the last year of his undergrad and again in the first year of his master’s program. He’d always been more comfortable in those one-on-one settings than in a lecture hall. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to hold his own in front of a class again, but surely he could manage this.
Cassidy’s eyes were full of hope, and he had to stamp down the fear that her trust in him might be misplaced.
“Sure. I can read your essay.”
The change on Cassidy’s face was like the sun coming out. She hopped to her feet and ran around the coffee table, flinging her arms around him without any hesitation. It surprised him, and he blushed furiously when he caught Seb watching them, but eventually he found all the muscles he needed to hug her back.
“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks a lot.”
He tried to sound confident as he said, “No problem.”
* * *
It had been an odd day. After working on the fashion book most of the night, Seb went out for an early walk to clear his head before Cass arrived. He hadn’t expected to find Martin talking to seagulls and staring at the ocean like he was contemplating an autumn swim. Since the scene in his apartment days earlier, Seb truly had been trying to find a moment to apologize. He led with what he now considered their usual repartee, where he teased and Martin stammered, but everything about Martin had been askew, from his moody scowl to his even more rumpled than usual appearance. With his messy hair and baggy hoodie, he might be coming off a three-day bender.
As Martin growled they had nothing in common, Seb pushed down the urge to poke at him to see what would happen. He still didn’t know what made Martin tick, but starting a new argument before apologizing for the last one was bad form. So he’d offered a coffee and a place for Martin to hang out for a few hours.
As the afternoon wore on, though, Martin turned out to be pretty good company once he stopped hovering on the edges. He mostly lay on the couch reading, but eventually he wandered over to look at Cassidy’s project, turning a little pink when he saw the book she was working on.
“What about the drawings?” he asked as he took in the two naked men, legs wrapped around each other for the purposes of symmetry and barely enough modesty.
“Seb said I needed to diversify my portfolio.”
Martin stared across the table with wide eyes, but Seb held up his hands.
“I mentor. I don’t censor. She’ll get enough of that on her own.” He waited for Martin to protest, either with a return to the sanctity of books or by pointing out Seb was corrupting Cassidy’s young mind. Instead, Martin simply watched them for a while longer without any obvious judgement before he returned to the couch and his book.
A little after five, Cass’s phone vibrated out a cheerful samba rhythm and nearly danced off the table. Seb’s hand twitched at the sound, and he almost cut off the arm of the man in the polyester suit he was painstakingly carving around.
Cass heaved her book shut with a dramatic sigh and went to pack up her things. “My mom’s here. Thanks, Seb. I’ll see you this week. I don’t work on Wednesday or Thursday. Martin, could you help me with my essay then?”
“Sure.” Martin still didn’t look excited at the prospect, and Seb maintained the whole thing was stupid and pointless. But she was insisting, and the kind professor had agreed to help, so who was Seb to get in their way?
Cass’s footsteps thumped dully on the stairs as she made her way out. Seconds later, the bookstore’s door groaned, and the building fell into silence.
Martin glanced at Seb out of the corner of one eye. “I should probably get—”
“Takeout?” Seb forced a smile and pushed up from his chair. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Martin shook his head. “No. I should go. I appreciate you letting me hang out with you guys today, but I wasn’t looking for a babysitter.”
“Of course not.” Seb studied him again. Illuminated from behind by the living room lamp, Martin seemed especially defined, a comic book character with an extra thick line to make him stand out from his background. It was like he’d been dropped into the space, somewhere he didn’t belong.
He might not need a babysitter, but he definitely needed a friend.
“Got plans for tonight? Hot date?” Improbable, but since it was still unclear what Martin had been doing at the beach so early that morning, Seb was keeping an open mind. Who knew? The professor might like getting a little freaky at night.
“No.” Martin heaved a sigh that would have made Cassidy proud. “But Brian will wonder where I got to. I left in a hurry this morning.”
“Brian? Is he your boyfriend or something?” No way Martin was with someone. Everything about him felt so abandoned. Whoever this Brian guy was, he was doing a lousy job looking after him.
Martin’s crooked smile flashed with dry humor that Seb hadn’t seen before. “If he were my boyfriend, I could break up with him. But he’s my brother, and you can’t pick your family, right?”
A couple thoughts pinged through Seb’s brain all at once. First, not picking your family was one of life’s true tragedies.
