Page 73 of A Hard Sell

Thomas arched in his eyebrows in amusement. “Okay, like who?”

“For example”—he dropped his voice to a whisper—“definitely on a date.” Luka pointed at the table beside them. The couple were holding hands across the table, feet twined together. “Definitelynot,” he continued, nodding at their other side. Two men in suits were frowning at their phones, slumped in their chairs.

“Well, those ones are too easy,” Thomas said, eyes twinkling. “What about the two over on the end of the bar?”

“Hmm.” Luka studied them. The two women were perched on stools, chatting easily, posture relaxed and comfortable, dressed in office attire. “No. Work friends, I think. Both single, keeping each other company on Valentine’s Day.”

Thomas frowned. “Disagree. It’s a date.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling I have.” As Thomas spoke, one of the women slide her foot over and hooked it around the other one’s ankle. The other woman turned to smile shyly at her companion.

Luka gasped. “You called it!”

Thomas looked pleased with himself. “I knew it!”

“Okay, Mr. Smartypants. What do you think about the table under the giant teddy bear balloon?” Luka asked. The man kept smoothing his hair and tugging at his cuffs, while the woman was in jeans and leaning as far away from the man as she could.

“Hmm.” Thomas slid his eyes to the side as he considered them. “She thought they were going as friends and she chose this place to keep it casual, and now she’s freaking out because he thinks it’s a date. So both.”

Luka repressed a snicker. “You’re too good at this game.”

A few drinks and many laughs later, Thomas stilled and gave Luka a long look. “What about us?”

Luka almost swallowed an olive. “What about us?” he repeated dumbly after he coughed it back up.

Thomas gave him a small smile. “If someone was playing this game for us, what would they think?”

“Oh.” His mind raced, yet he drew a complete blank. “I don’t know. Probably just friends. What do you think?”

Thomas looked thoughtful. “It’s hard to say, isn’t it?”

Luka’s cheeks were about to catch fire. “Sure is.”

Chapter Seventeen

Could I?

With the renewed contract came a mountain of fresh projects to tackle. The office was a hive of activity again, phones buzzing, people hurrying past each other in the hallway with nothing more than a quick nod. Thomas started eating lunch with Luka again. “The gym is way too crowded over the lunch hour,” he had said. Luka allowed himself to sink back into the friendship and roll around in it a little, knowing he still had a few more months to enjoy it.

But when the day of his open mic performance arrived, Luka was a mess. He’d barely slept the night before, and when he looked in the bathroom mirror, all he saw was the dark circles under his eyes and flat, pale skin.

Thomas took one look at him when he came in that morning. “Are you okay?”

Luka forced a smile. “Yeah. Just a little nervous about tonight. Didn’t sleep much.”

“You’re going to be great. Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“I’m sure.” Chances seemed high he might vomit right on stage and he did not want Thomas to see that.

“Well, I’ll be supporting you from my living room.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

Thomas did his best to distract Luka for the rest of the day, peppering him with questions and asking him his opinion on an endless array of tiny set-design options. Luka knew Thomas didn’t need his help, but he was grateful for the effort.

He had brought his guitar and a change of clothes with him, so after work he grabbed his bag and slipped into the washroom. He went with dark, slim-fitting jeans and a navy button-down, left open over a gray Henley. His hair was sticking up on one side and refused to sit when he combed it. He wet his hair and tried to flatten it again while his stomach twisted, mouth flooding with the nauseating taste of fear.

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