Page 34 of A Hard Sell

Sharing a Drink

Luka cracked an eye open Sunday morning. Correction—afternoon. He moved his head an inch to look at his clock, then groaned when the vice clamped down on his skull. His stomach lurched in protest.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, burying his head under the pillow and blindly groping at his bedside table for a water bottle. No luck. He peeked out to glare at his bathroom door. So far away. Too far. He burrowed back under the pillow to block out the afternoon sun.

Sifting through the foggy memories from last night, Luka wondered at which point things had gone horribly wrong. He remembered watching Thomas’ broad back draped in the world’s sexiest leather jacket leaving the party early because Morgan was the literal worst. Then Georgia had offered him a Jell-O shot. Right. Thetrayof Jell-O shots. His stomach heaved again.

He had a vague recollection of singingBennie and the Jetswith Georgia, then leading aSweet Home Alabamasingalong with the accountants. After that it was much hazier. He might have done a solo ofToxic, complete with Britney’s choreography, which he had mastered in his bedroom when he was about fifteen. At least Thomas hadn’t seen that.

Thomas.

In the stone-cold-sober light of morning, through the nausea and pounding headache, he wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. The tension, the flirting, the lingering gaze… Was that just Thomas enjoying himself at a party?

When the need to relieve himself became even more urgent than his desire for water, he stumbled out of bed. He felt much better after taking care of both issues and letting himself soak in a long hot shower.

He found his phone on the kitchen counter next to an empty container of potato salad. Ah yes, he remembered polishing that off before he caromed into bed. He saw that Finn had sent him a series of GIFs around one a.m.—mostly Britney, then a few stop signs and finally SpongeBob burying himself in the sand. Luka sniffed. His Britney was spot-on, as a matter of fact.

Then he saw a message from Georgia…and the picture of him and Thomas. Luka thought that he looked a bit ridiculous, smiling brightly under his Sandy wig, but then—Thomas. Dear Lord, Thomas. ‘Smolder’ didn’t even begin to cover it. He stared directly into the camera, a little Travolta smirk playing at his lips. Raw sexuality oozed from every pore, chin tilted down, hip cocked, thumb hooked in his pocket, just a solid mass of black leather and muscle and…Fuck. A low moan escaped from his lips as he wiped at the sweat beading on his brow. His stomach swirled, then heaved again.

Thinking some fresh air might clear the last of the lingering hangover, he scrambled to grab his keys. It was a chilly, damp day, but he set out at a brisk pace and somehow found himself at Jitters, the café where he had met Thomas last time. This time the chalkboard saidIf you were looking for a sign to have a muffin, this is it.He sat with his coffee and chocolate chip muffin, eyes shooting to the door each time it opened. But no six-foot-two Greek god with warm brown eyes came through.

He looked at the picture from Georgia again, then opened his text thread with Thomas and stared at the keyboard. Should he? What if he had come on too strong last night? Had he embarrassed himself? What if Thomas hadwantedto take Morgan home? Maybe Thomas had stayed the night to make sure he was okay. Oh God, what if he and Morgan were still together right now? Luka put his phone away. He’d see what Thomas was like at work tomorrow.

Then his phone buzzed and he wrenched it back out of his pocket. Tawney.

Hey Sandy, how was the party?

Luka sent her the selfie he had taken.

Good…mostly. How are you feeling?

Way better. Just a twenty-four-hour thing. What do you mean, “mostly”?

Are you free for coffee?

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, Tawney was sitting across from him. He told her everything.

When he was done, she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “Oh, Luk. I noticed some chemistry between you two, but wow. You’re really gone on him, huh?”

Luka covered his eyes with his other hand, nodding. “Apparently. What do I do?”

“Sweetie…I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’s the best idea. He’s basically your boss, he’s only here for few months, and, to be honest, you don’t have the best record. You got lucky with Finn, because look what happened the next time you dated someone from work.”

Luka bristled. “Thomas is no Morgan.”

“I know, babe.” She squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry. It just doesn’t seem like it would end well.”

He blew out a breath. “You’re right. I just…. Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Tawney looked at him with a crooked, sympathetic smile. “Well, shit.”

“Pretty much.”

* * * *

Luka’s condo had never been cleaner. The kitchen gleamed, every brown and beige pillow fluffed and placed perfectly on the cream-colored couch. He dedicated all his brain power to convincing himself that he did not have a massive all-consuming crush on Thomas, and even if he did, he was not doing anything about it. He was just going to admire him from afar. Well, not that afar since they were sharing a desk. But he was a grown up, and he didn’t have to act on every little feeling. It was fine.Minorcrush, if anything. Moving on.

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