Slow Dreaming (2 page)

“You don’t have to.” Jason heard himself speak the words, although in the back of his mind he could hear James’s warning repeating itself.
No fraternizing. Observe, don’t interact.
He was going to hell when he got back. They’d find his shriveled up body down in those stacks, an old man who had never done anything with his life. Buried in the last remaining paper archive that existed on the planet.

Sean froze. “Are you sure?” His voice was no more than a whisper, his face still bright red. A couple of girls at a nearby table stared at him, one murmuring to the other. He sat down again quickly.

“I’m sure.” Jason smiled, trying to put Sean at ease. “Thanks for the compliment, by the way. It’s been a while since anyone’s made the effort or shown any interest.” No one since Rex, but that was history in every sense of the word. They hadn’t spoken to each other since they’d broken up three years ago, and the last he’d heard Rex was on assignment in the mid-1940s. Very hush hush.

“I’m usually a little more subtle.” Sean sighed. “For all the good it does me.”

“I’m surprised.” Jason leaned over and placed a hand on Sean’s arm. It was warm, fine dark hairs smooth under his fingers. He thanked the powers that be that it was warmer today so that Sean’s shirtsleeves were rolled up above his elbows. “You’re a good-looking guy.” More than good-looking. Jason made a point of looking Sean up and down. “I’d even go as far as to say hot.”

“Really?” Jason could almost see the steam coming out of Sean’s ears at the idea. Sean shook his head in disbelief. “Me?” He shook his head again. “Hell no. Now you….” His voice trailed off. “Um, can we change the subject onto something else? Are you from around here? I hadn’t seen you before the other day.”

“I’m from… overseas.” Jason nodded, running through what was left of his cover story in his mind. “I’m a journalist, travel, mostly. This looked like an interesting place, so I thought I’d look around for a few days, take notes, that kind of thing.”

“Where overseas?” Sean settled back into his chair, relaxing as the conversation moved onto a safer topic. “I’ve been to Aussie once, but apart from that I haven’t been out of New Zealand. It’s on my list of things I’d like to do one day.” He laughed, but there was a self-deprecating air to it. “Perhaps once I’m rich and famous. Can’t see it happening otherwise.”

Jason thought quickly, latching onto the first country that came to mind. “Canada.” He hoped Sean wouldn’t ask for anything more specific than that. Giving the truth wasn’t an option. He couldn’t very well explain that although he was a local, the Wellington he was used to was very different from how it was now. It was better this way; there was less chance of slipping up and referring to something that didn’t exist yet.

“It’s on the list.” Sean sipped his coffee, thoughtful. “I’m a mainlander myself. Christchurch. My parents are still down there, don’t want to leave. They reckon they’ve spent their whole life there, and it’s going to take more than a few earthquakes to make that change.” He shrugged. “They’re one of the lucky ones. Their house is still relatively intact.”

“Have you been to see them recently?” Jason hoped Sean had. Closure was important. He’d seen too many families who’d missed out on that. They couldn’t be there at the end, but at least having had some contact beforehand had helped.

“Yeah. I went down as soon as I could after the first big one and spent some time.” Sean wrapped his fingers around his cup, long fingers, slender. “I offered to move back, but they wouldn’t have anything of it. My life is here now, has been for a few years. I’ve got my music, and I work in the cafe part time. Never going to be rich, but it works for me.”

“You’re a musician?” A familiar not-quite tune whispered to him. He ignored it.

“Yeah, although more of a songwriter than a performer.” Sean shrugged. “I doubt you’ve heard of me, although a couple of local bands are willing to play my stuff. I play keyboards for them on the occasional gig, too, when the usual guy is off sick or whatever.” He glanced toward his pile of papers, his mouth twisting into a half grimace, half-shy smile. “I’m working on a new one but having trouble getting it quite right. That happens sometimes, then when it’s the right time, it all falls into place. It drives me crazy until it does, though. I swear I eat, drink, and sleep the thing.”

“I’d love to hear what you’ve got so far.” Jason could have kicked himself for not taking the time to listen to the sound files attached to Sean’s dossier. However, it was Sean’s role at the cafe that was the focus of the assignment, not his music.

“That settles it.” Sean grinned. “I knew you were crazy with all your talk of hotness. Now you want to hear music composed by a guy you’ve only just met.” He schooled his face into a solemn expression. “I think that’s about the fourth sign of madness isn’t it? After all, for all you know my music could be really bad. How do you know you won’t lose your hearing and good taste for the rest of eternity?”

“And here I was thinking the fourth sign was being a true believer of the sanctity and healing properties of coffee,” Jason deadpanned.

S
EAN
placed his hands on either side of him, using them to steady himself on the low wall so that he could lean back to soak up what there was of the sun. He loved it on the foreshore and often came here to think. It was a between place; traffic rushed past behind him on The Esplanade, heading in and out of the city, while in front of him the sea ebbed and flowed as it had for thousands of years and would continue to do for thousands more. Man and nature could coexist in places like this, each not quite encroaching onto the other’s territory. The wall was designed to be a stop bank, a barrier to prevent a very high tide from wreaking havoc on the road behind it, the curb and wide concrete space in front of it a reminder to the traffic that although cars could park here, that was as far as they could go.

The wind was getting up again; it was always colder here than in the more sheltered spots. He zipped up his jacket, pulling himself upright, letting his feet swing against the wall and back again in an uneven rhythm. It wasn’t music that had brought him here today, although that song was still constantly changing and evolving in the back of his mind.

Jason.

Sean felt his lips form a smile at the memory of the conversation they’d shared the day before. It was more than Jason’s looks that drew Sean to him, although he was very easy on the eye. He swallowed. God, the thoughts he’d had last night about the guy. Imagining what it would be like to touch him and be touched. He’d always had a thing for blonds… and redheads. Jason had short blond hair; the stubble on his face was a pale red. His eyes, green with a fleck of brown, reflected a keen intelligence that showed in the way he spoke. Yet there was wariness there, sadness, almost. No, not sadness but resignation.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this toward someone. This was more than physical, although that had given him the courage to make the initial approach. Sean wasn’t in the habit of trying to pick guys up—he’d learned from experience that it wasn’t always a great idea. He sighed, remembering his last attempt, six months ago. Note to self: straight guys do not like being hit on by other guys. Damn, he’d been so sure the guy was gay. His flatmate, Leilani, had given him hell over it later, and then thrown him a packet of frozen peas for his eye.

Okay, fine, but how was he to know the object of his then desires played for the local rugby team and had the right hook from hell?

Jason had seemed safe. After all, he’d started it by eyeing up Sean first, and they were in a cafe surrounded by people he knew. Oh, fuck, he’d picked up a guy in front of people he knew. No wonder Ruth had that grin when he’d left. Work tomorrow was going to be such fun. She’d tease the hell out of him and then ask for details.

What details? Sean snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets. The conversation had been good but it had ended all too soon. He’d arrived home only to realize they hadn’t even exchanged contact details.

Come to think of it, for a so-called Canadian, the accent wasn’t there, either. Jason didn’t really have one, just a few words here or there pronounced a little differently, but that was it.

A dog barked. He lifted his head, looking around for the source of the noise. A couple of teenagers were walking along the beach, throwing sticks for a lab. Above him, seagulls circled, calling to each other, their lonely cry speaking to him, pulling at the emptiness in his own heart.

He snorted. This song was really getting to him, to the point where his thoughts were starting to sound like lyrics, and depressing ones at that. He had friends, he was happy with his life. He didn’t need a boyfriend or a significant other to be complete.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

“Only for the moment.” Sean didn’t bother to look up. “I was just leaving.” He’d walk along the beach for a bit, kick some shells, skim some along the water before heading home.

“Damn, and I only just got here. Guess my timing kind of sucks.” The guy sounded familiar, almost amused.

Something clicked. “Jason?”

“Last time I looked, yeah.” Jason sat down next to Sean but kept a respectable distance between them. “You come here often?”

“That’s the same line you used yesterday,” Sean felt the need to point out. What was Jason doing here of all places? After yesterday, it seemed too much of a coincidence.

“It worked, I thought.” Jason shrugged. “So I figured why not use it again?” He smiled, his face lighting up, but there was still that not-quite sadness in his eyes.

“I’m just about to go for a walk along the beach.” Sean offered the invitation on impulse. This time he’d do it right, find out where Jason lived and make sure there would be a next time. “We can talk and walk if you want.”

“Sounds good.” Jason slid off the wall, closing the distance between it and the sand with ease. He was tall, a few inches taller than Sean’s own six foot, but more heavily built. The shirt he wore today was a tight fit compared to the previous one and didn’t leave much to the imagination as to the muscles and almost washboard stomach underneath. Sean had always prided himself on having a good imagination.

“Are you going to be warm enough?” Sean’s voice came out a little hoarser than he anticipated.

“I don’t feel the cold so much, and besides, we’ll be walking, right?” Jason stared out at the ocean, his attention taken by the small island in the middle of the harbor. “That’s Somes Island, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Sean joined him on the beach and pointed to the boat that could be seen slowly making its way toward the strait. “See that? That’s one of the Picton ferries; they do a couple of crossings a day. It’s too far away to tell which one it is, though. You’ll probably want to make note of all that stuff for your article. I can find you some more information if you want. There’s plenty of it online and lots on the history of the area in the local library too.”

“Article?” Jason looked blank for a moment, then seemed to collect himself. “Oh yeah, that.” He’d told Sean that he was here taking notes about the area. His voice softened, carrying with it an edge of awe. “I never thought I’d see it, any of it. I’ve seen images, read about it, but actually seeing it….” He turned to Sean, his eyes bright. “This stuff never fails to blow me away, you know. This place, especially. It’s so much like home, yet not.” He froze, his hand going to his mouth. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. There’s not so much in the way of beaches in Canada, from what I’ve heard.” Sean couldn’t decide whether to be amused by Jason’s realization that he was busted or annoyed that he’d just had it confirmed he’d been lied to.

“That would be the not,” Jason mumbled. He studied Sean for a moment. “Okay, so I’m not really from Canada. According to my ID, I’m from Auckland, but I’m not really from there, either.”

What the hell was he playing at? Sean took a step back instinctively. “How much of what you said yesterday
was
bullshit, Jason?”

“Only that.” Jason glanced around, his eyes narrowing, relaxing again when he confirmed they had the beach mostly to themselves. The couple with the dog had moved further down the shoreline and was having a discussion in front of the Early Settlers Museum. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was attracted to you, honest.” He took a deep breath. “I am working on an article of sorts; it’s just that I can’t tell you what exactly.”

“Or I suppose you’d have to kill me?” Sean couldn’t help but comment dryly.

Jason’s eyes widened. “God, no.” His breath hitched. He opened his mouth to say something else then averted his eyes. “We only have till Friday, I just… my assignment will be over then and….”

“You can tell me then?” Sean pulled his jacket tighter around himself as a shiver went through him. Someone had walked over his grave, his old gran would have said. “Who the hell are you, Jason, and what’s so secret that you can’t be honest about where you’re from?”

“No one special.” Jason bit his lip; he looked out to sea. The crests of the waves were almost white, no, closer to a dirty gray, as though hiding secrets of their own. “I’m not asking for anything from you, Sean, and I promise I don’t mean you any harm. I just thought… I’m only here for a few days and I’d rather not spend them alone. That’s all, all it’s ever going to be.”

Something about Jason tugged at Sean. He walked over closer, his instincts winning out over his better judgment. Whatever Jason was involved in, whatever this assignment was, it was eating at him. He sounded as though he could do with a friend. Sean could do that. In fact, it might be just what he needed too.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I like you, Jason. I’m probably crazy, but there’s something about you that screams at me that I want to get to know you better.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jason smiled wanly. He reached out and tentatively took Sean’s hand in his. “I can’t tell you the specifics of my assignment, of this article I’m writing, but I won’t lie to you, not anymore.”

Sean nodded and squeezed Jason’s hand, the skin-to-skin contact sending a welcome warmth through him. “Where are you from, Jason?” He was curious now, and surely the question wouldn’t conflict with the rest of the whole need-to-know thing.