He still looks at ease. He’s even leaning forward and studying me like he could listen to me talk for hours.
“Thank you for sharing that,” he says, the response simple but sincere.
My insides light up brightly, making me feel like I’m glowing from the inside out. I have to force myself to look away to keep myself from smiling like a fool.
“So these live streams and the products you make… is that a typical career path for an autistic person?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Some days it’s a huge, exhausting challenge, going live and having to perform for the camera. There are a lot of parts of the job I don’t like.”
Surprise courses through me the second the words are out. Did I really say that out loud to a man I just met? Pushing the uncertainty from my mind, I go on.
“But I tried a lot of other jobs before I discovered this. They were all overstimulating or way too restrictive. My nervous system was constantly dysregulated when I worked for corporations or other people. My ADHD makes me crave novelty and intensity, but then my autism makes it harder to transition and adapt. I had four jobs the summer I graduated from college,” I admit, eyes cast down at my empty plate. “Eventually, I tried working for myself, and it stuck. A-Tizket A-Tasket has been going strong for three years. Other people have jumped into creating similar businesses, but I was the first to monetize body doubling and create a community with my fans.”
“And what, exactly, is body doubling?”
A smile breaks out on my face. I love answering this question. “It’s another tool from the ADHD toolbox. When you have someone to work alongside, even if you aren’t working on the same tasks or assignments, the work can feel easier. Seeing someone else focused and on task can help jump-start executive functioning. For my body-doubling sessions, I’ll go live or people can watch replays. I work and they work, mostly in companionable silence.”
“Fascinating,” he murmurs, the reverence in his tone fueling the giddiness inside me that grows the more we talk.
“I take my business seriously. I have a set schedule for body-doubling sessions, then I go live twice a week to show off new products,” I explain.
“Can I ask how long it’ll take to earn what Luca owes you?”
Like a blistered, overheated tire at the end of a race, I burst and deflate.
My business is profitable and doing well, but that’s because I know my limits. I’ve created a sustainable model that doesn’t require me to hustle the way I did when I first started.
Unfortunately, the only way to increase profits will be to find new customers for my existing services or to make new products to sell to my existing customers.
Squinting, I do the mental math. If I add in two extra lives each weekand sell my usual amount of twelve to fourteen items per live, I can earn an extra thousand dollars or so each month. But that doesn’t account for cost of product, and I might reach an oversaturation point with my existing shoppers if I don’t have new inventory to entice them with during the extra lives.
Defeated, I hold back a sigh. There are going to be a lot of late nights in my future.
Meeting his gaze again, I offer what I hope is a convincing smile. “Not long,” I contend, the words feeble to my own ears.
His eyes narrow, the dark irises accentuated by long, enviable lashes. Those thick, perfect brows pull together until a crease forms above his nose. Shifting forward, he gives me an intense assessment, no doubt seeing through my lie. He opens his mouth like he’s prepared to argue, but then his phone dings on the table beside him.
He snaps his attention to it like he’s surprised to find the device sitting there and scowls. “I have a meeting in five minutes,” he grumbles, glaring at the phone as if it’s personally offended him.
He surveys me again, his expression softening.
“You don’t have to leave.” He licks his lips, gripping the edge of the table as he stands. “My meeting will take about an hour, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We could talk some more. I could… I could make dinner.”
The offer is outlandish, but the quiet hopefulness with which he suggests it tempts me in a way I don’t expect.
It highlights that intangible pull I feel isn’t one-sided. There’s something between us—a chemistry I’m keen to investigate thanks to how easily our conversation has flowed. A small part of me would love to sit here and talk to him all afternoon.
But those feelings aren’t logical or even reasonable.
Why would I stay? What would I do while he worked? Poke around his house and search for baby pictures of my ex-boyfriend? Hang out in his garage, lounging on my grandmother’s defiled couch among all my earthy possessions and declare squatter’s rights?
No. Decidedly, I stand and take my plate to the sink without looking him in the eye again.
“Thank you for lunch, but I should go.”
CHAPTER 7
ALARIC
