Second Hand (Tucker Springs) (10 page)

The conversation ended shortly after that, but El let himself get wound up over it all the same. He opened the shop like he always did, but within an hour he’d burned through almost half a pack of cigarettes, and the thought of going upstairs to have lunch while he continued to stew over the whole business was more than he could stomach. Closing up the shop, he headed out to pick up something from the deli, thinking the walk would do him good.

When he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he saw Paul standing in the middle of a sidewalk, staring into a shop window with an odd expression on his face.

Normally, El would have boomed out a cheerful, wise-cracking greeting, but something about the way Paul stood gave him pause. He didn’t have that lost look he usually had; or rather, he had it, but seemed to be more consumed by it than usual.

It made him come up beside Paul quietly, respectfully, made him smile a crooked smile when Paul saw him. “Hey there, stranger. Any chance I can take you to lunch?”

Paul blinked, as if the concept of lunch was something he’d forgotten. “Oh.” He glanced at the clock on the square. “Oh. Lunch. Sure.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you from staring into shop windows, if you’d rather do that.”

Paul winced and rubbed a hand self-consciously on the back of his head. “Sorry. I—had a weird night. Still sorting through it.”

El could have kicked himself for sounding so petulant. Placing a hand on Paul’s shoulder, El steered him away from the window. “Come to lunch with me, then, and tell me all about it.”

Was it El’s imagination, or did Paul relax a little? “Okay.”

El kept his hand on Paul’s shoulder while they walked away. He used the touch to anchor himself as he glanced back to see what it was Paul had been staring at so pensively. It was the photography store’s window display with senior pictures on one side.

Wedding pictures were on the other.

Paul didn’t tell El about what had upset him, though, because somehow, while they waited in line to place their sandwich orders, they ended up talking about exactly the wrong topic.

El.

“What’s it like to own a pawnshop?”

Paul leaned back against the deli’s brick wall as he asked this, his red-brown hair a pretty complement to the brick. It did crazy things to El’s brain. “It’s not really like anything. Just another job.”

“How did you get into it, though? Was it something you always wanted to do?”

El laughed. “No.”

Paul smiled his own lopsided smile and made
go-on
motions with his hand.

El kept his eye on Paul’s hair as he answered, watching light dance off it under the soft track lights. “It was my grandpa’s place, his hobby shop once he retired. Nobody wanted it when he died, so I took it over. Bought it from my grandmother, and now it’s mine. I live upstairs, work downstairs. Nice and tidy.”

Paul studied El with a focus that made him want to fidget. “But did you want to run the pawnshop?”

El considered a moment. Then he did something he rarely ever did when someone asked about the shop. He told the truth.

“Yeah. I did.” El rubbed his thumb against his chin a moment, letting his eyes fall down to a set of bricks. “My mom . . . well, you know those TV shows about people who go crazy about collecting things and have houses full of trash? That’s my mom. She’s been that way since I was little, when my dad left. I know she’s sick, and I don’t blame her, not really, but it still makes me nuts. I thought maybe if I had a place she could sell things . . .” He let that trail off like it deserved, rolling his eyes and shrugging. “I was a naive twenty-year-old. Now it’s a job where I can smoke all day. But yeah. When I took on the shop? I wanted it.”

The confession made El feel very exposed, and he wished he could smoke right then and there.

It was their turn to order after that, which saved him for a few minutes. It gave him a chance to redirect his thoughts, too, and he had himself all ready to turn the conversation back onto Paul by the time they sat down.

Paul foiled him by starting it back up on El while they filled their drinks at the self-serve soda machine.

“Do you have any employees, or is it just you?”

“Just me. My brothers have filled in for me on occasion, but mostly if I don’t want to be open, I don’t keep the shop open.”

Paul paused with his cup half-full of Coke and gave El the strangest look of longing. “Really?”

“Really.” El elbowed him and reached for a lid. “Why, you looking to buy me out and let me retire early?”

Paul’s sad sigh wedged right under the bottom of El’s ribs and made them ache in an odd way that only Paul could. “I couldn’t afford to buy you out when
I
retire. I’m lucky to make rent.”

They settled into a high-backed booth, where the green vinyl complemented Paul’s hair rather nicely. “What is it you do, Paul? I’m not sure I ever asked.”

There was his adorable blush, except El didn’t like the way Paul looked almost ashamed as his cheeks stained. “Nothing, really. I’m a receptionist at a veterinary clinic.”

“Are you now? That sounds interesting.” El meant it too, but he had the feeling Paul wasn’t going to believe him.

“Not as interesting as being the actual vet.” Paul shrugged, poking at his sandwich. “That was what I went to school for, but I didn’t do well. I never even finished.”

“You could go back.”

Another shrug. “I guess I had an idea of what being a vet would be like, and the reality is different. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, and when Nick offered to let my job be full time, it all seemed to fall into place. Now here I am.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” El teased him.

That at least earned El a little smile. “It’s not that I’m not happy with my job. More like this was never what I planned to do with my life, you know? Like there was a schedule and I got off track and I don’t know how to get back on.” He made a face. “Sorry. I should have warned you when you asked me to lunch that I was in a funny mood.”

El knew the feeling. The same restlessness that had driven him out of the shop seemed to be bulldozing at Paul as well. That realization felt like a spark, as if together their restlessness combined could be something more. Something specific. Something better.

He could hear Denver mocking him already, but he ignored it. “Two questions, the second one dependent on the answer of the first. Number one: what’s your shoe size?”

Paul looked wary. And, El thought, perhaps a little intrigued. “Nine. Why?”

El wasn’t sure the exact size of what he had in the shop, but it had to be close. “Number two: have you ever been rollerblading?”

Three hours later, when El nearly ran Paul over for the umpteenth time, he gave up trying to climb back to his feet and collapsed, laughing, onto the grass beside the trail. Paul fumbled to the ground beside him, laughing as well. “I assumed when you asked me to rollerblade that
you
knew how.”

“Never said that.” El shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun. “These have been in the shop for years. I doubt anyone’s going to use them, so we might as well.”

Paul propped himself up on his elbows and stuck his rollerbladed feet out into the sidewalk. “What do you do when things don’t sell?”

“I leave it all as long as I can. If I start running out of room or get tired of looking at something, I take it to Goodwill or throw it out. Generally, I do that less and less as I go on. You start to learn what will sell and what won’t and stop taking it.”

Except, of course, when he bought kitchen appliances from cute redheads.

Paul stared out across the park toward the amphitheater, where a couple of college kids were horsing around at the edge of the stage. The sun made his hair look like fiery, spun gold and lit up his creamy skin, making El want to touch it. Paul looked wistful, and El wanted to tease him back into happy.

“You make it sound so easy,” Paul said.

That made El laugh. “What, pawning people’s stuff? It’s not rocket science, no.”

He shook his head. “Being happy, I mean. Accepting what you have and being happy with it.”

That was how he looked to Paul? “I wouldn’t say I’m happy.”

Now Paul focused on him, his sweet, gullible gaze searching. “You’re always laughing and teasing. And you’re always so put-together. Nothing upsets you.”

El should tease now, he knew that, but he couldn’t. “You know what they say about comedians. They laugh so you don’t see them cry.” Except that was way too far, so he shrugged and turned back to the park. “I’m not unhappy, I guess. Accepting, maybe. Life is what it is. Can’t change it, can’t quit the game.”

But you can avoid playing as much as possible
.

Paul didn’t seem to like El’s answer. “Of course we can change it. We can do better. Find the right thing to say. Plant the right flowers.” That made El eyeball him, earning a blush as a reward. “There’s a neighborhood contest to make our yards look nicer. I want to win.” He scowled into the distance. “Of course, maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t win.”

“I never said that,” El pointed out quickly.

Paul wasn’t listening now, though. “I never can. I never have. Not in high school, not in college, and certainly not now.” His scowl turned painful. “Larry was mad at Stacey last night, so she came home. To my home. I let her stay.”

Why did that confession feel like a bucket of ice water? El tried to sound neutral. “Oh?”

“She slept in bed beside me and nothing happened. Because I didn’t want to push her. Because I knew she probably wouldn’t want to do anything. Then I woke up and she was talking to him on her phone, everything straightened up. I was a mistake, that’s what she told me. I tried so hard to be good and not take advantage, to do what she wanted, and I lost. Again.” He’d been ripping up tufts of grass while he spoke, and he tossed a handful out onto the sidewalk in disgust. “Why do I do that? Why do I keep hanging on, trying to be her first choice? I don’t even know that I care about her anymore. I just want to be the first choice for someone for once. Just
once
.”

El couldn’t help but think how, had anyone else appeared in front of him on the sidewalk, even Denver, he would have continued on his solitary way instead of suggesting rollerblading. “I bet you’re first choice a lot of times and you don’t even know it.”

“Well, I want to know it.” He looked adorably fierce now. “God, and I want her to see it. I want everyone to see it.” He pointed out across the park. “There.
That.
Those two, necking under that tree. Right where everyone can see them. I want
that
.”

El’s stomach fluttered, and his cock sat up and paid attention. “You want to make out in the park?”

Oh, more adorable blushing. “No. I mean, yes, but not that specifically. I want to be wanted like that. For something. Anything. And I want everyone to see.” His flush deepened. “Just once.”

The
just once
kept ringing in El’s ears as they climbed back to their feet and bladed clumsily back to the pedestrian mall, where they probably weren’t supposed to blade but did anyway. They stopped to catch their breath and descended into more juvenile laughter against a recycling bin. El took a moment to enjoy the sight of Paul relaxed and beautiful, not awkward or shy, just Paul, the best thing that had happened to an afternoon. El was aware of strangers watching, getting caught up in his and Paul’s mirth, their happiness.

Caught up in it too, El moved before he could check himself, catching Paul’s chin and brushing a soft, chaste kiss across his lips.

Paul’s startle frightened El back into his own personal space, made him paste on a sideways grin to disguise his panic. Nodding to the audience, trying to make it clear it was all a joke, he quipped, “There. I think everyone saw that.”

El was ready for Paul to be offended or upset or grossed out. He had a whole dismissal ready to explain away the impulse as meaningless. Paul only stared at him, though, stunned, slightly confused, and—possibly—touched.

“Thanks,” he said at last. A little breathlessly, and that tugged at El’s heart like nothing else could have.