Page 43 of Rules to Love By

Marcus lifted one eyebrow and offered a crooked grin that lightened his face but didn’t quite get to the melancholy in his dark eyes. “Why do you think?” He winked, and for a heartbeat, Eli couldn’t decide if he should be intrigued or worried. Surely Marcus didn’t go on dates just to get laid?

“On the first date, huh?”

“Never a guarantee there’ll be a second.” Sipping his lemonade, Marcus watched him, a small grin almost hidden by the raised glass.

Lack of opportunity for a second date was something Eli could relate to. Using it as an excuse for casual one-time sex was less his style. He’d never even kissed a guy on the first date.

Well. If he was honest, until Marcus, he’d made arrangements, not dates. The guys who wanted the kind of sex he offered weren’t looking for a boyfriend, and those who were, usually didn’t notice him.

Marcus’s gaze had shifted to the view of the street through the overhanging oak branches outside. He shrugged. “Why not on the first date?” he asked, sounding a little tight. “If everyone is into it?”

It was a faint echo of the risk-aware, consensual-kink ethos Eli adhered to with every one of his arrangements. But whether kink was involved or not, it was still a far cry from true understanding of what it meant. He clenched his jaw around all the things that jumped to mind about what was missing from Marcus’s statement.

“Forget it,” Marcus said, bringing his gaze back. “Let’s just have our drinks and our food and see what happens.”

It was a plan of some kind.

Jake thankfully arrived then with the garlic bread, dissipating some of the awkwardness with his shy smiles and simple enthusiasm for his job as he took their orders.

After the food arrived, Marcus talked animatedly about Andre and his colourful teachable moments.

“The shop absolutely loves him,” Marcus said.

“The shop likes him.” Eli squinted at Marcus. “And you know this how?”

Marcus shrugged. “He positively lit up when Andre walked in the door. And obligingly didn’t electrocute him when we discovered a wire that shouldn’t have been live but actually was.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t tell your dad.”

“Obviously. What happened?”

“He found a wire inside the wall. It wasn’t attached to anything, so we assumed it was just another of the old, dead wires the last electrician didn’t pull out of the wall when he redid the place a few years ago.”

“But it was attached to something.”

“The fuse box. Took Andre over an hour to trace it back, and he about had a heart attack when he realized it was live. He should have been fried a dozen different times.”

“But the shop likes him.”

“He’s still alive, so I’d say so.”

“Wish that other electrician had been the one chasing that wire down,” Eli muttered. “The entire shop could have burned down. I suppose now we have to break through all the walls, just to check?”

“We checked. Andre made sure there was nothing but new wire attached to the fuse box, and that every wire was attached to a proper light or outlet. He checked the apartment too.”

“Big of him.”

“He likes the house back.” Marcus grinned. “So what was it really like, growing up here where everyone is kind and the houses get to have an opinion?”

“It was good. I mean, we still have our—” He glanced around, but Jake was nowhere in sight, so he leaned across the table and whispered, “—assholes. Jake had some rough years as a kid. But mostly, it was really good.”

“And no one cared about you and your dad? Or Kreed and Lucky?” He pushed food around on his plate. Eli recognized the habit as an unconscious indication that Marcus was looking for the right words. “Or, you know, the rest of us?”

“I grew up here,” Eli said, pointing out the window they sat beside. “Basically on this street. Dad and I lived above the shop. I did all my homework in his waiting area. The people who came in and waited to get their hair cut were the ones who taught me maths and proofread my English homework while Dad worked. I’m not going to say there are no bigots in Griffon’s Elbow. My friend Jess doesn’t even talk to her own parents anymore because of their opinions. But those people don’t—and as far as I know never did—hang out on Main Street.”

“It’s like a magical town.”

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