Page 25 of Stray for You

He shrugs. “I mean, I guess. I’ve never bothered doing it, but I have some friends who have and they seemed to like it. Said it was better than they expected.”

“You escaping to the underground on us?” Dom jokes.

Laughter resumes, and I try to join in, but my mind is whirling. I wait just long enough, then escape to the bathroom. I ignore the urinals and shut myself in a stall, immediately going for my phone. Within minutes, I have two tickets for a tour tomorrow night. Pete’s friends better be right about this.

I got us tickets, I text.

What???Cameron replies.

Seattle Underground. It’s a tour. It’s supposed to be good. I got us tickets for tomorrow night at six.

You could have asked if I was free.

I’m asking now. Come with me. It’s my last night in Seattle.

And that’s seriously how you want to spend it?

No, I want to spend it exploring every inch of him. I want to spend it with him in my bed. I want to spend it memorizing each one of his eyelashes, every crease in his lips, every blemish on his skin. But I don’t think I can say it to him that way, so instead I say,Yes, that’s how I want to spend it.

Did all your weird co-workers turn you down or something?he texts back.

You’re my first choice.

Yeah, sure. Whatever. You’re lucky I don’t have work or band practice.

Is that a yes?My heart thumps in my throat, my fingersshaky as dots appear to let me know he’s typing a response.

Fine. Yes. I’ll see you there.

I all but float back to that table full of beautiful sales reps. I think they talk to me, but whatever they say slides off my brain. I have one more date with Cameron before this is over, one more chance to change the trajectory of our acquaintance. And I plan to make the most of it.

Chapter Thirteen

Cameron

JULIAN ISN’T WEARING A suit this time. A plain black jacket hangs open around a T-shirt with a movie poster on it. It’s casual, accidental. His hair falls naturally around his face rather than lying swept back and glued in place with hair products. The faintest hint of golden stubble roughens his jaw.

“You look nice,” I say when I approach him on the street.

A look of genuine surprise opens Julian’s face. “Thanks?”

“Is that a question?”

“Kind of,” he says. “I mean, this is just whatever’s left over in my suitcase. You’ve seen me all done up for work and jeans and a T-shirt is what earns a compliment?”

“You look more normal this way,” I say.

“I’m not normal when I’m working?”

“Not really. You’re … you’re trying too hard. You’re doing that performing thing you do. But like this, I don’t know, you seem more like a person.”

For some reason, this explanation spreads a smile across Julian’s face. He actually glances down at his feet for a moment, uncharacteristically shy before he collects himself and looks back up at me.

“Come on,” he says. “It’s right in here.”

He looks like he might take my hand but thinks better of it at the last moment. He leads me into a storefront that’s painted black and says “UNDERGROUND TOUR” in big gold letters.Part of me can’t believe I’m actually doing this. It’s one of those touristy Seattle things that people who live here often skip. It’s even located near all the tourist stuff that people flood every time a cruise ship pulls into the port.

A small group of us shuffle our feet and wait awkwardly for the tour. Julian smiles over at me, standing close enough that our fingers could brush together if he so much as flinched. But again he doesn’t take my hand, and again I feel like he kind of wants to.

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