Page 4 of Noah

"I am gay, but I think we should sit down and eat the best pie in the city and talk about why you blurted sex at me when I asked you a why are you stalking me question."

"I'm not stalking you. I like your pub. The wings are good."

Okay. But that's not my point. "I meant stalking me after the pub closed."

Brody jammed his hands into his coat pockets and started walking.

"Not stalking," he muttered.

Chapter Two | Brody

Maybe I'd made a mistake propositioning Noah for sex. I thought it would be a done deal. I'm an attractive guy. My conversation skills are shit but that's not what I'd been looking for. Unlike a hookup app, I'd had the opportunity to see the guy I was interested in fucking interacting with other people. I'd gotten to study his character a little. Not that I had anything against random hookups. I had them frequently enough. But I'd been looking for something different.

Somewhere in my subconscious brain, I was looking for a deeper connection with someone. It had crept up on me recently. The need for more. I'd committed to trying something new.

"Not stalking," I muttered again. Yes, I was unusual in the way I went about things. I chalked it up to being on the autism spectrum. I was high-functioning, but I had quirks. What might be normal operating mode for neurotypical people didn't apply to me. I know it made me awkward and I came across as cold and unfeeling—and awkward … did I mention awkward? In my eyes, I saw something I wanted, and I placed myself in a position to get it—him. As simple as that.

Noah just chuckled as I followed him, and we walked two blocks up away from the Inner Harbour to a restaurant on the second floor of a newer building. Jimmy's. And there was the sign to validate Noah's claim. Best Pie in the City it proclaimed.

Outside sat an older homeless man. He was tucked under an overhang, his legs in a sleeping bag, and he had two large furry dogs curled up next to him.

"Evening, Hank," Noah said and approached him. "Staying warm and dry?"

"Doing my best," Hank replied. "Dogs help."

"How are they?"

"Thankfully, they love being outside."

Noah removed his wallet from his back pocket and started fishing around inside.

He's not seriously going to give this guy money. Hank here would likely pack up his belongings and head for the Pandora area and buy drugs with it. Noah was wasting his money.

"Only have a few 5s for you tonight."

"You know it's always appreciated. It'll buy me a nice breakfast tomorrow." Hank took the money from Noah and tucked it in his woolen coat pocket.

Noah stepped away. "Have a good night, Hank."

"God bless. You, too."

All his cash gone; Noah led the way up the stairs to the restaurant. The rush of warm air was sickly sweet as he pulled open the door to reveal an impressive image of an old Chevy cruiser and a black and white checkered floor. We were shown to a 50s-style diner, red pleather booth. I removed my coat and toque and folded them, placing them against the end of the booth seating.

After settling, I let my gaze wander to Noah's face. My stomach did a bit of a flip. His appearance thrilled me, but what kinds of questions was he going to ask me? Would he expect an answer to everything he asked? There was a reason I didn't usually do much talking with guys.

It made me nervous.

My ability to determine if someone was being insincere sucked. Usually, it didn't show on their face. I'd have to look for other clues like body posture. Were they relaxed? Were they stiff? I had made an extensive study of both types of tells when it came to everyday life, but sussing someone out when I was distracted by their swoon-worthy looks made things difficult.

Noah smiled at me with those gorgeous lips of his that were so plump, I wanted to take a bite out of them. Would that be something he'd be into? Me biting and sucking on those lips.

"Where are you from?" he started.

Safe enough question.

"Grew up in Victoria."

His expression brightened. "Me too. Whereabouts?"

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