Page 2 of His Plaything

“Huh,” Jake said. “What about sports? You got a team?”

Seth almost rolled his eyes. “Not really.”

“Wow, okay.” Jake dug out another forkful of noodles, sticking them in his mouth. Seth kept his eyes on the microwave and refused to give him more attention.

“You’re a quiet guy, aren’t you?” Jake asked after another moment, mouth full of food.

There were only thirty seconds left on the microwave screen. Seth tried to swallow down his irritation.

“Kinda,” Seth offered. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten the comment about being quiet. It still annoyed him though. Just because he wasn’t loud and obnoxious, didn’t mean he was some quiet, meek thing. It bothered him when guys said that, because it felt like that’s what they were trying to insinuate.

He wondered if Clark had thought that about him. He knew he’d come off kind of quiet during their interactions, but he had just been so caught off guard by everything about Clark. Surprised that a man like that was paying him any attention at all.

Even if Clark had thought him quiet, he’d never made Seth feel the way Jake was making him feel now, like there was something wrong with him. If anything, Clark had seen his shyness as a challenge, not a sign of weakness, and had worked at drawing Seth out of his shell. He’d talked to Seth like he was someone worth listening to.

And he’d touched Seth until the sounds were pouring out of him, desperate and wanting.

“Well, if you ever want to go out sometime, let me know,” Jake said, stepping closer. “I’m sure we could find something to loosen you up.”

Seth’s eyes flickered back to him just long enough to see Jake give him a very not-so-subtle onceover. It made something sour in Seth’s stomach, like he’d done something wrong to have Jake looking at him like that.

The microwave had a couple seconds left.

“Um, I’m okay, thanks,” Seth said, tone casual and bland, doing his best not to anger a beehive. He just wanted this interaction to be over. He went to grab a fork from the drawer, so he was ready to leave as soon as the microwave beeped. “Nice to meet you. Bye.”

The container was almost too hot to handle, but Seth ignored that. He took his food and left the kitchen, having to squeeze too close to Jake to do so. A hand touched his back for just a moment, as though helping Seth by.

“Nice to meet you Seth,” Jake said with a tone of appraisal. Seth didn’t turn around or respond to that, he just kept moving. He felt the eyes on him all the way to the hallway.

In his room he shut and locked the door, then dropped the too-hot dinner on his side table to cool before collapsing onto his bed with a sigh. In another life, Seth had his own apartment, his own space, and he wouldn’t have to handle weird strangers in his own house. In another life he had a lot more going for him than a job at a toy store and a small single room.

Seth reminded himself that he was close to affording a new laptop, closer to finishing his coding course, and therefore closer to landing a better job that would let him move out of this place. He just needed to be patient, and keep his head down.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Maybe he could watch something while he was waiting for his food to cool down.

The first notification on his screen had him fumbling the device. He sat up and swiped to unlock it.

Clark Not!Kent:I seem to recall seeing you using a needle and thread to do very neat repair work on a stuffed toy. Can you apply that skill to clothing as well?

The text had come ten minutes ago.

Seth worried at his lip. He was pretty handy with a needle and thread, yeah. But what did Clark want? And why was he textingSeth?

Seth:Depends on what it is.

The reply came not a minute later.

Clark Not!Kent:I’ve had a button come off the suit I’d planned to wear to an event tomorrow night. Could I trouble you for help? My regular tailor is on holiday until after New Year’s.

Seth stared at the text.

Seth:Now?

Clark Not!Kent:I can send the car. And I’ll pay you for your time of course.

Seth was tired and he’d just gotten home, but he’d be kidding himself if he said the offer wasn’t tempting. Clark had given him five hundred dollars when he’d last “paid Seth for his time.” The possibility of more to add to his computer fund was enticing.

He’d also be kidding himself if he tried to pretend he wasn’t thinking about what else was in the subtext of those messages. It would be naive not to consider what else Clark might be looking for. Surely the man could get anyone to fix a button. There was no reason to textSethspecifically.

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