Page 9 of Double Dared
He laughed and set the stork down. “Emma’s still not here. We’d better make a round before revisiting Kate.”
So we did. We saw potters and painters and soap makers and a woodcarver who himself looked a little like one of his own carvings, all ropey arms, knobby joints, a smoothly combed beard, and tobacco-yellowed mustache. “It’s all so expensive,” I said quietly.
“It’s handmade,” Harrison said.
“I get the gist of it, yeah. But it’ll leave me eating ramen until the end of March.”
“I love ramen.”
“We can have a date at my place. I’ll make a double serving.”
Harrison looked at me oddly. “That would defeat the purpose, no?”
“Oh. Right. Well, maybe to mess around with my brothers,” I said.
“The fraternity brothers?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the mild ghost of wariness on Harrison’s face. “We’re not like that. There aren’t even any kegs in our basement.”
He laughed a little nervously. “It’s just such a male-dominated environment.”
“You’re into men,” I blurted, Finn’s assessment coming back to me. “Sorry. I just assumed. See, I have a friend with a broken gaydar. He’s like a sailor lost at sea. With all the other sailors. On a ship. Which he would enjoy, now that I think about it. Am I rambling?”
“You are. And frat bros are not exactly my type, to be honest,” he said as we passed a young man weaving silk scarves. “There’s always an element of loyalty and exclusion that goes hand in hand with fraternities. We talk about secret societies, but if you look at any of the major universities in our country, you have elite clubs in plain sight. Regardless of their politics and beliefs, they learn early to cover for each other, and then they just keep doing it.”
“Bel is different,” I said. “We’re more a commune than a fraternity in that sense.”
“Good to know,” Harrison said, and I thought hemeant it. “Let’s split a little and waste a bit more time. Emma’s got yoga in an hour, so she should pass through soon if she means to come at all.”
“You’re not sure she will?” I asked. “And you know her schedule?”
“She’s very organized,” Harrison said in a passing manner. “And no, I’m not sure anymore. This is her favorite thing. She wouldn’t miss it. Unless something happened. Should I call her? I should call her.”
I grabbed his forearm. Whoa. Firm. “Do not call her, man. Are you crazy? You haven’t spoken in two months.”
The concern was rooted deep in his eyes. Even his mustache drooped a little as the corners of his lips dragged down. “It’s strange.”
“Maybe she double-booked,” I said. “The last thing you want is to call her, reveal you’re virtually stalking her, and be a creep who makes a fuss with zero evidence.”
Harrison pressed his lips tightly together for a moment, then inhaled through his nose. “I’m not stalking. I’m only arranging accidental run-ins.”
“I’ll leave that to the jury of your peers to decide,” I said. “But you arenotcalling your ex because she didn’t show up to a Sunday market.”
Harrison nodded. I was confident enough that the moment of danger had passed, so I nudged him in one direction while I walked in the other. When we reunited some twenty minutes later, we strolled around again, chatting with sellers and making anappearance. Quite a few knew Harrison from one place or another, either by name or by appearance.
Harrison studied film at Elmwood U, so he spent a lot of time among the artists and artisans. This meant he spent a lot of his evenings in bars, doing some very niche pub quizzes, buying rounds of drinks for penniless bohemians, listening to poetry slams, or just doing bad karaoke. Zero-budget plays in abandoned warehouses, makeshift musicals with three instruments accompanying four actors, or indie film festivals with three people in the audience were also a big part of Harrison’s life.
This was all useful stuff for a boyfriend. It informed my character. It made me wonder, what sort of guy would fall for Harrison? He was a contradiction all around, refined and polished and so deeply intelligent that it was borderline performative, but he was also a lover of chaos and imperfections, chipped mugs and broken plates and noseless statues and spilled ink.
By the time we walked out of the warehouse and onto the street again, the sun was making its way down the sky, and the air was spring warm. “That was fun. I think half the city will know we’re a couple by sunset.”
“We sure spread the news around,” Harrison agreed. “Only Emma never hangs out in the underground, and I doubt your friends will come across my mime friend anytime soon.”
“If they do, I doubt they’ll understand what he’s trying to tell them,” I said.
Harrison laughed. “I dread to imagine it.”
I made a rude gesture with both hands.
