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Tad smiled as boss man disappeared into his office, its door shutting just as another one opened. One down the way, from the paper’s Calendar Events department. Tad glanced back at his laptop, not thinking anything of it, until a familiar voice, and then a familiar name, snagged his attention.
“Thanks again for this opportunity. If you need stuff in the future, let me know.”
“I absolutely will, Sean. You do great work. Maybe something this fall for the holidays.”
Sean?
Tad’s ears perked. Could it be the same guy?
No. No way. The world was not that small.
Again, Tad peered up over his cubicle. Son of a bitch. It was. It was totally Sean. Before he could think about what he was doing, Tad rolled his chair into the aisle and gave a wave. “S’up, Sean. How’s it going?”
Sean paused, clearly surprised, but then smiled and headed over. “Hey, Tad. I’m good.” He eyed Tad’s small cubby. “I didn’t know you worked here. Very cool.”
“Eh.” Tad shrugged. “I’m just an intern. Pay sucks but, hey, I’m working the sports section, so yeah, can’t really complain.”
Sean nodded. “Can’t beat sports.”
“Nah, man. You really can’t.” Tad grinned, then cocked his head. “So, why’re you here?”
Sean pocketed his hands. “Freelance gig.”
“Sweet. So, damn, you’re like Peter Parker.”
Sean laughed a little. “Not exactly. Just some advertisement shots for an event coming up.”
Tad studied him for a second as Sean glanced at the ground. He looked better than the last time he saw him, that was for sure, but he still picked up an undertone of sad. Which he supposed made sense, since today was only Friday, with Max having dropped the bomb just four days ago. Not that Red looked any better himself.
Tad swiped up his cell phone and glanced at its screen. Twelve fifty-seven. His stomach rumbled. Perfect timing. He looked back at Sean. “Wanna grab some food?”
Sean’s eyes shot up. He looked surprised. “Food?”
“Well, yeah. It’s my lunch break. Got an hour to kill.”
Sean shoved a lock of hair behind his ear. Must’ve escaped from his little blond bun. “Um, yeah, sure.” A tiny smile curved his lips.
Tad paused and just looked at him. Damn, he really was good looking. Like a freaking model and shit. Snapping out of it, Tad stood up and grabbed his keys. Red was one grade-A fucking moron.
They made it to Tad’s Jeep, then to a diner down the street, in well under fifteen minutes. Tad hailed down a server as they slid into a booth. Sean settled in across from him and grabbed a menu. Tad grabbed one, too, but instead of scanning the options, eyed Sean inconspicuously over its rim. Screw it. He frequented this place all the time and knew its menu like the back of his hand. Besides, at the moment Sean was way more interesting. And not because of his crazy-good looks. His whole deal with Max, it just made Tad curious. So many dimensions to their dynamic.
The server stopped by a second later, took their orders, then shuffled out of sight.
Tad looked at Sean. Sean looked at him, too. Then those big, dark-blue eyes shifted gears. Back was that casual little air Sean always emitted. The one that whispered calm, cool, and collected.
Tad cleared his throat and got busy with the small talk. “So, you go to Mason?”
“Yeah. Photography major.”
“No shit?”
Smile. “No shit.”
Tad chuckled and scratched his cheek, only just now doing the math. “Guess that explains your freelance gig at the paper.”
Sean nodded. “Yup.” His smile ebbed a little. “An off-the-cuff idea I came up with over a month ago. Thought it’d be cool so I went for it.”
“Nice.” The guy was motivated. Tad could appreciate that. “Anything I’d be interested in?”
“Doubt it,” Sean mumbled, glancing past Tad’s shoulder. Their server arrived a heartbeat later, dropping off a smile with their Cokes.
Tad watched her take off again, then looked back at Sean, unable to stave his curiosity any longer. “So… Monday night… You looked pretty irate. Have you talked to Max since then? Worked shit out?”
Sean’s expression tightened instantly. Ire flickered in his gaze. “No, actually. I haven’t. He can fuck off and die.”
Tad’s brows shot high. Sean didn’t mince words. And evidently was still exceptionally pissed. Tad nodded and sipped his soda, then muttered under his breath, “Kinda looks like what he’s doing, come to think of it.”
Sean stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Oops. He wasn’t supposed to have heard that. Tad shrugged. “Nothing really. I mean… I dunno… Maybe you should just call him.”
Sean scowled and looked away.
“Seriously. The guy already looks like royal shit. Talking to him couldn’t possibly hurt.”
Sean frowned and glanced down, idly fiddling with his straw. “Oh, it’d hurt,” he muttered. “Believe me, it’d hurt.”
Tad watched him, pretty sure those words held a double meaning. The energy Sean was emitting was disheartening. “Maybe you could—”
