Page 15 of Key Change

He chose to believe he was being serious. That, and he’d researched Cillian, too. There wasn’t much, and most of it revolved around his performances and work, with only the occasional mention in the social stories. After the first couple of write-ups, he’d given up. Cillian shouldn’t be risking his reputation by hanging out with him. This date, or whatever it was, didn’t make sense.

He didn’t believe that this was pure attraction, even though it was for him. And while he was willing to go along with it for the moment, how far would Cillian go?

He got in the car and tried not to feel annoyed he didn’t have one of his own. Getting out was death by a thousand admin tasks, and that was before he’d gotten anywhere. Frustration coiled through him, the jagged edge of anxiety already pressing through his skin and making him uncomfortable. He rubbed his fingers on his jeans, on the side where Cillian couldn’t see.

He breathed in.

Just enjoy the evening. It didn’t matter what happened.

He breathed out.

He wasn’t good enough for Cillian, but that was a temporary problem. If this fizzled, he never needed to cross paths withCillian again, and he’d chalk it up to experience. Though experience was sometimes a bitter poison, with unpleasant aftereffects. After a few more breaths, he had his tension under control.

“So… what have you been up to?” Cillian glanced at him.

He didn’t want to tell him the truth because it was lame, but there was literally nothing else to say. “Looking for work, sorting out my license, going to the beach.”

Anthony enjoyed being able to go out whenever he wanted. He went for a run, then spent the rest of the day online searching for work. He wasn’t just applying for librarian positions; he was looking for anything and had made an appointment with a recruitment agent in a couple of days’ time. Maybe that would help, but he doubted it.

“What happened with your license? I mean, why can’t you just renew it?”

“It lapsed while I was inside.” While Cillian knew where he’d been, he didn’t like saying it because it made him feel like a loser. “I couldn’t front up for a new photo, so now I have to pass everything again.” He was right back at the start. No house, no job, no car. “How about you?”

“Teaching, though I’m also rehearsing at the moment.”

“Rehearsing the piano?”

“Yes, I’m playing for the ballet in a couple of weeks, and it’s very trendy at the moment for rock bands to rearrange their songs and perform them with an orchestra. I’ll be touring the country.”

“That sounds interesting. Not playing overseas this year?”

Cillian glanced at him. “Someone did their research.”

“I wasn’t sure what a pianist did.” He didn’t want to admit to being curious about why Cillian would be interested in someone like him.

“I teach piano, as well as performing. I’m going to New Zealand in the middle of the year. Have you ever been? It’s beautiful.”

“No. Going overseas was always one of those things I planned to do later…” Later hadn’t happened. “I wanted to backpack around Vietnam, go skiing in Canada.” He’d made plans and had the money, but no time. Now he had the time and no money.

“I love skiing! That’s one of the reasons I agreed to go over. Have you skied before?”

“Of course, but only locally.” He realized he was smiling, and they were talking about something they had in common. “There’s something about being at the top of the mountain. The air is clearer, the sky bluer.”

He’d stopped going when he’d finished university, because there’d been more important things to do. That was something he regretted when he ended up surrounded by three walls and a set of bars. He’d spent too much time in offices, staring at a computer instead of living. Instead of blowing off steam with coke and parties, he should’ve taken time off and traveled.

“Clarity. Everything is crystal cut,” Cillian said. “If you see a parking spot, tell me.”

He remembered this street. It had been gentrified since he’d last been here. There was no dodgy looking burger place, or the even skeevier bar surrounded by lots of empty shop fronts. Now the abandoned shops were upscale cafes and eateries, and the bar had received a new front and name and looked very upmarket. The drug dealer, who’d lived above what was now a sushi restaurant, must have moved out.

“There.” He pointed further along the road. “Unless it’s a loading bay.”

It wasn’t a loading bay, and Cillian did a fast and tidy parallel park—that made Anthony wonder if he could still pull that off—then glanced at him. “I should’ve asked. You do like pizza, right?”

CHAPTER

NINE

Cillian sippedhis second glass of red wine and gazed at Anthony. The pizza was gone, and his mind was very busy making an important decision—did he trust Anthony enough to take him home?

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