Page 14 of Margins

“I do,” Elijah laughs. “I’m headed out soon, actually. But listen, you can’t get mad at me.”

“Well, that sounds suspiciously like something my nine-year-old would say right before confessing to something she knew she wasn’t supposed to do, even as she did it.”

“Yeah, okay, I—I know I was kinda bummed about what we read on Monday night, and then I spent the next couple of days forcing myself to forget about it.”

“But?” Alex prompts.

“But then today I got curious again and I peeked ahead and obviously I don’t know what’s in your book and please don’t look in yours yet which I know is a really unfair thing to ask of you since I totally looked but also if you don’t already have other plans then maybe you could come by the bar tonight and bring just the one book with you and we can talk about it,” Elijah rambles, breathless by the time he finally pauses. “Please? Come to the bar?”

“Do I even get a hint? I mean, it’s raining, but instead of sitting comfortably at home, you want me to just sit by myself in a bar while I watch you work,” Alex teases with a smile he pretends he can’t feel. “And that’s after you went behind my back, so really, I should feel incredibly betrayed and maybe even hang up on you now.”

“You are far too nice to hang up on me, especially because I will buy your dinner and drinks.”

“So, no hint then?”

“Nope,” Elijah says, but then he takes a shaky breath. “But you’ll really come? Like, without peeking at the book first?”

Alex pauses for a moment, trying to figure out what just shifted, and he’s serious when he answers. “Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want.”

“I think I—I’m probably just being an idiot. And maybe I’ll realize it too late, but yeah—I’ll see you when you get here.”

Alex is still staring down at his phone when it chimes with a text and the name of the bar, and he can barely wrap his head around the conversation he just had with Elijah, a whirlwind of a thing leaving him unsure of which one of them was really teasing the other. It takes another couple of minutes before he can focus on finishing up his work, but he gets everything done in the next hour or so and then goes upstairs to get ready. He’s pretty sure he puts too much thought into all of it but ends up more or less business casual—a thin forest green sweater and dark jeans with a suede jacket to top it off—like he’s just going out after work and definitely isn’t trying too hard. It was easier when he used to be in the office full-time and would just head out to happy hour with coworkers, or of course, all the times he went out with Cassidy, someone else there to ground him, a contrast to how obviously he’ll be alone tonight.

Or not exactly alone, but really only there while Elijah is almost certainly going to be busy, talking to Alex long enough to share whatever got him worked up, then turning back to paying customers and what Alex assumes must be a whole lot of tips.

He splashes some water on his face and scrapes his hands through his surprisingly neat brown hair and sighs.

What did Elijah find? Why did he go from rambling about it to being so unsure that Alex would show up? And why was he worried that he might have been making some kind of mistake?

The drive to the bar is easy enough, the traffic typical with this many stupid people caught in the Southern California rain, but it’s nothing Alex hasn’t lived in for his whole life. He parks a couple of blocks away and jogs toward the bar, a small messenger bag slung across his torso keeping the book dry, and he holds the door open for a couple of women before he steps inside and out of the way. The place is near the beach, and it probably brings in a good mix of regulars and tourists, but while Alex would guess it’s generally pretty popular, it’s a rainy weeknight, and he has his choice of plenty of tables when he goes to sit.

Elijah is in the middle of the bar, a second bartender busy a few feet away, and he leans forward to greet the two women who’d just passed Alex, his smile a mile wide. The sleeves of his deep blue button up are rolled to his elbows and Alex already knows the color of it must make his eyes that much more noticeable, the two women seemingly lost there while Elijah offers to get them their drinks. Alex takes a few steps forward, the movement enough to have Elijah glancing up at him, his smile becoming something strangely shy until he turns away to make two cocktails.

Alex finds a small table against the darkest wall, opposite the glass doors that open to a patio and are probably only closed tonight to keep them dry, and he sets the bag down on another stool before lifting a small, laminated food menu from where it’s tucked between the condiments and an announcement about upcoming live music dates.

“Did the two women scare you into the shadows or did I?” Elijah asks, sliding a coaster across the table, a name tag introducing him as Eli enough to give Alex an uncomfortable itch on his behalf. It doesn’t last, though. Can’t last when Alex catches sight of the tattoo on Elijah’s forearm and has to drag his gaze back upward before it becomes impossible.

“No, I—I just thought I should stay out of the way.”

“You’re not in anyone’s way, Alex,” Elijah says. “Except maybe your own.”

Alex thinks he should probably be offended by that, but he can’t quite manage to get there when he’s busy wondering what Elijah means by the observation, doing whatever it takes to spin his confusion into some kind of joke.

“Sounds dangerously close to being fortune cookie wisdom.”

“Nah, just bartender wisdom. And I don’t really have room to talk, so—” He winks and nods down at the menu in Alex’s hand. “Most of that’s pretty good for bar food. Anything look appealing?”

After no more than a glance, Alex picks out a cheeseburger and fries because it’s easy, and a lager because it’s even easier than that, and then for the next couple of minutes, he can catch his breath, watching as Elijah taps out the order on a small computer screen and then pours the beer. A few different people talk to him as he moves behind the bar, and Elijah easily responds to all of them, a natural people pleaser where Alex barely knows how to have a conversation without tripping over half the words that flow more naturally inside his head. He’s done a pretty decent job of talking to Elijah, he supposes, but maybe every now and then the world makes one simple thing as easy as it should be.

Elijah laughs at something one of the ladies says, then brings the beer to Alex, who nods his thanks and tries not to look back at the bar where everyone waits. His eyes land on Elijah’s arm instead, and he surprises himself when his fingertip follows, tracing the black ink he’s only just found.

“A swan.”

“Once an ugly duckling.”

Alex stumbles over a few different responses, Elijah so far from ugly, except that that’s not the point of the story anyway, and thinking about the messy layers of that particular fairy tale hurts before Alex can understand why. One fingertip becomes two, and Alex wants to press his entire palm to Elijah’s skin, but nothing about a wish like that makes sense when he’s never touched another man like this and he doesn’t want the tattoo covered anyway.

“This is new. Or it’s—I guess, it’s probably not new for you, but I—I didn’t know it was there.” Alex stops, frustrated with himself until he can pull his hand away and smile up at Elijah, eager to change the subject. “Thank you for the beer. And as much as I want to hear why you dragged me out in the rain, you can go back to work if they need you.”

---