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Rex laughs, his smile wide. “I know what you mean,” he says, his voice a little lower than it was a minute ago. “Here, I’ll put in a work order for a new one for you.”
“No, don’t bother,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Oh, I just—I dunno. I don’t really need a new one; it’s fine as it is.” Rex is looking at me strangely.
“Your call,” he says, shrugging. Then he starts to sweep up the glass.
It’s nice to have some company while I work—just to be in the same space with someone. Rex has moved on to whatever he’s doing to the crack in the ceiling, but now I’m definitely finding myself distracted because he’s standing on a stepladder, and his every move causes the muscles in his back and shoulders to flex beneath the white T-shirt he’s wearing. His body is gorgeous. He’s not perfectly sculpted like those guys who work out at gyms all the time. He’s big—heavy frame, wide hips, wider shoulders, big feet and hands. And, I can see now, an ass for days.
I’m zoning out, staring at his ass in his worn jeans, when he turns around and looks at me. There’s not even any point in trying to look back at my notes and pretend I wasn’t just seriously scoping him out. But he has a little smile on his lips.
“I can see your reflection in the window,” he says.
“Oh, jeez.” I drop my head into my arms on the desk. “Sorry,” I say miserably.
“That’s okay. I kind of feel like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch.”
“You really love Marilyn Monroe, huh?” I say.
“She was my mom’s favorite.”
“Oh, hey,” I say, remembering. “I watched Gaslight. When I got back to Philly. I really liked it.”
Rex grins and it almost takes my breath away. It’s a smile that reaches all the way to his whiskey-colored eyes, wrinkling the skin at the corners. Whereas his face is classically handsome, with those high cheekbones, straight nose, and strong brows, his dimples make him look boyish when he smiles, that crooked incisor just catching on his lower lip, and one front tooth the slightest bit behind the other.
“But the library only had the one that was on at your house. The American one. You were talking about the British one, but they didn’t have it.”
“I have it,” Rex says. “You could borrow it.” He pauses and looks down. “Or, if you wanted to come over some time, we could watch it.” He seems almost shy about asking.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I say.
“So, how has your first month been?” Rex asks, turning his attention back to the plaster.
“Um, yeah, been okay,” I say. “I found coffee, there’s a library, and I have Internet in my apartment, so there’s that. You know what’s killing me, though, is that nowhere has takeout or delivery after, like, nine o’clock except the pizza place. And, I mean, I love pizza, but there’s only so much of it I can eat in a week.”
“You don’t like to cook, I guess,” Rex says.
“Never really learned,” I tell him. “When I was a kid, my dad would always make a huge pot of something—chili or spaghetti or something—and leave it on the stove for me and my brothers to grab. Then, when I was in school, I just didn’t have the time to learn. And my stove in Philly was… well, I don’t know for sure it would’ve exploded if I’d used it, but there was a distinct possibility.” Rex smiles. “I guess I’ll need to learn now, though, or I’m going to get scurvy. I think the waiters at the diner already know my name, which is embarrassing because I don’t think anyone else even knows I exist.”
“Oh, they know,” Rex says, sounding amused.
“Huh?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re the”—he speaks like he’s quoting—“angry, gay professor from New York City who uses all the ten-dollar words.”
I try to remember what words I’ve used when I’ve talked to people, but I can’t. So, people here already think I’m both pretentious and aggressive. Great.
“I’m from Philadelphia,” I say.
“Yeah, but they think you look like you’re from New York. Because of how you dress.”
“How I dress?”
“You look… um, edgy. Your hair and all.” My hair just happens to look messy no matter what—possibly because I pull on it when I’m irritated—so I go with it.
“And I’m not angry. Well….” Thinking back, I may have expressed disappointment that certain establishments closed at 5:00 p.m. a couple of times in public.
Rex laughs.
“Daniel, this is a small town. They’ll get to know you soon and stop making assumptions about you. But they go from what they hear, and every kid who works at the coffee shop whispers about the professor who swears and drinks more espresso than anyone they’ve ever seen. Carl tells anyone who’ll listen about how he’s got a gay man living in his apartment because he thinks it makes him seem, I don’t know, hip or something. They’re interested in you, that’s all.”
