Page 96 of A Hard Sell

Thomas smiled and shook his head slightly, before turning his attention back to Luka’s mom. “I’m afraid I’m not that interesting, Marta. But what would you like to know?”

They took the train to the old part of town where the Farmers’ and Crafters’ Market set up every Saturday. Marta and Thomas chatted the entire time, Luka’s insides clenching whenever his mom asked something too personal. But Thomas was a champ, taking every question in stride, responding good-naturedly to everything she wanted to know.

“Have you had many serious relationships, Thomas?”

“Mom! Christ!”

“Not really. I’m on the move so much, and it’s hard to meet people,” Thomas answered.

Luka watched his mom beaming up at Thomas when a lump formed in his throat. Because the relationship that he was watching form in front of him was real, even though it was based on a lie. He did his best to swallow it down. What else could he do, besides enjoy the time with his parents and his friend? It was a sunny spring day, after all, the kind that made it seem like summer was right around the corner. The perfect day for a market.

They stopped first at a stall where an artist took reclaimed wood and turned it into picture frames and treasure boxes. Luka was admiring one frame in particular when he noticed his mom studying him and Thomas. He thought about taking Thomas’ hand for a moment but couldn’t quite get up the courage to do it. Then Thomas glanced at him. They held each other’s gaze for a second. Thomas’ gaze shifted over to Marta, then he took Luka’s hand and smiled at him. “I’m hungry. Who wants a soft pretzel?”

Luka’s heart turned into a puddle. “Me.”

They found the pretzel vendor down the next row. Luka ordered his with cinnamon and sugar on top, and Thomas asked for the same. It was heavenly, thick and warm, the sugar dissolving on his tongue. Thomas paid for all four.

“What a gentleman,” Marta said, patting his arm. “Thank you, Thomas.”

They wandered on, munching their pretzels, taking in the rows and rows of pottery, flowers, jewelry, art and candles, not to mention the food—fruits, vegetables, bread, popcorn and sausages, for starters.

“So good,” Luka said as he finished off the last bite of his pretzel, brushing the remaining crumbs off his fingers. He noticed a sparkle on Thomas’ cheek. Without thinking, he reached up to dust the sugar away. Thomas froze. Luka watched as his fingers, almost of their own volition, lingered on his cheek, then swept along Thomas’ jaw.

Thomas gave him a look that sent Luka’s heart skittering into his rib cage. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Luka’s cheek. “Thanks,” he murmured.

Fireworks exploded behind Luka’s eyes, while his throat squeezed out a strangled gasp. “You’re welcome.” His cheek burned where Thomas’ lips had touched him. He forced himself not to reach up and press his fingers to the patch of skin.

Thomas straightened up and took a deep breath. “All right, Marta,” he asked, without looking away from Luka. “What do we need to find for dinner?”

Luka knew it was all an act, but his pulse was racing, throat squeezing. Thomas’ lips had just made contact with his body. He wanted to throw his arms in the air and scream, but settled for wiggling his toes inside his shoes when they paused in front of the first vegetable stand. Once they had loaded up on potatoes and carrots and all sorts of other veggies, they were ready to go. Luka held tight to Thomas’ hand, even though he knew his palms were sweaty. They passed by the reclaimed wood artist again on their way out.

“Wait…” Thomas said, letting go of Luka’s hand and shifting his heavy bag to his other hand. He had insisted on carrying most of their spoils. “I’ll take this one, please,” he said to the artist, picking up the small frame of bleached white driftwood Luka had been eyeing earlier. The man wrapped it in brown paper for him. Thomas tucked it carefully on top of one of his bags.

“That’s nice,” Luka said.

“Mmm,” Thomas mumbled. “I have just the picture in mind.” He took Luka’s hand again, and they turned to stroll off.

“Luka! Thomas!” a voice called out.

Luka turned to see Tawney waving and headed right toward them. Then she saw they were holding hands. Her eyes widened and she gasped, mouth hanging open.

Luka dropped Thomas’ hand and dove toward Tawney, hauling her in for a hug. “It’s not what you think, it’s for my parents, please be cool,” he whispered, frantic.

He pulled back. Her face was a mask of confusion.

But then Marta appeared at their side. “Tawney, my dear! How are you, sweetheart?”

“Marta! Hi! I didn’t know you were in town.”

Marta clucked. “I hope Luka hasn’t been neglecting you since he and Thomas started dating.”

Luka stared at her hard, trying to explain the situation telepathically. Tawney looked back and forth between them, then studied Marta and Oscar. Something like understanding washed over her face. Then a glint of evil. “Oh, a little bit.” She tilted her head and grinned, enjoying herself way too much. “But I can’t blame them. They’ve clearly been in love since the day Thomas arrived.”

Luka narrowed his eyes at her as his face grew hot. “Well, thanks for saying hi, Tawney. We don’t want to keep you.”

Marta beamed, ignoring him. “How adorable. Can you believe Luka didn’t say a word until Christmas?”

Now it was Tawney’s turn to give Luka a reproving look. “My goodness. Not until Christmas? Remind me again how long you two have been together?”

---