Upside Down(11)

Even before uni was over, he’d put down the foundations of an interactive computer engineering company and needed a network architect, which was my area of expertise, and over the last five years, we’d become inseparable mates. He had black hair, dark eyes and eyelashes that people paid a fortune for, a smile that won contracts, a jaw that could cut glass, and a stare so intense, it made a competitor fold like a pack of cards.

And while I’d initially helped him set up his business, technically he was my boss, and I was perfectly okay with that. Actually, seeing him stress over corporate taxes and dividends and margins and a tonne of other business-related bullshit, I was more than okay with him being the boss. He paid me well, and sure, we talked business and he asked me for my professional opinion on some business deals, but I was happy without the added responsibilities he had.

And, somehow, we’d managed to maintain our friendship over the course of our careers. Which would explain why he put a fresh coffee in front of me and looked at me with that expectant gaze. I took a sip of the coffee, and it was good. “Thanks. And yeah, I don’t even know what I’m thinking about.”

He snorted. “So, what’s his name?”

I tried not to laugh but rolled my eyes. He knew me too well. “Jordan. But before you say anything, it’s not like that. He came to my support meeting last Friday night and he was a bit upset. We spoke afterwards for a while, but then I saw him again yesterday. On the bus,” I added before he could assume anything.

“And?”

“And he’s funny. He does this flustered, awkward thing, which is cute.”

“And he went to your support meeting? So he’s…”

“Gay, yes. Asexual, maybe. He’s pretty sure it’s a fit. But it’s early days. I think he needs time to get used to the idea.”

“So why are you even thinking about him?” Michael asked, and it was a fair question. “Is that not a conflict of interest? I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

I smiled at him. “I know, and thank you. I do appreciate that. It’s just…

He narrowed his gaze at me. “It’s just what?”

“He knows who Daniel Keyes is.”

“One of your book guys?”

“They actually have names for them now. They’re called authors,” I said with a grin. “And yes. But he didn’t just know. I said the title, and he knew the author without blinking, and he knew the tone of the book and he did this excited gasping thing when I mentioned it.”

Michael stared at me over his coffee cup, mid-sip. “Oh shit.”

I pressed my lips together tight, then let out a long sigh. “Crazy, huh?”

“That you found another book-loving asexual gay man under sixty living in Sydney?”

I chuckled. “Well, yes. But I don’t know. I’ve spoken to him twice. The second time for all five seconds on the bus. And like you said, it’s a conflict of interest, and he came to the meeting for help. The last thing he needs right now is me messing that up.”

Michael shook his head slowly. “All this could have been avoided if you just bought a bloody car.”

I snorted at that. “The bus literally takes me from my front door to here, then here to home again. It’s less hassle, cheaper, and it’s better for the environment.”

He rolled his eyes, like he always did when we had this conversation. Then he brightened. “Oh shit, I almost forgot. Vee invited you to come over for dinner on Saturday night.” Vee, or Veronica, was Michael’s wife, and by association, a dear friend of mine. Since I’d split with Rob, she’d been trying her hand at matchmaking.

“She’s not trying to set me up again, is she?”

“She worries about you.”

“Worries? What for? I’m doing fine. Happily single.”

“I told her you’re doing fine. Actually, I told her you’re much happier now.”

“I am, thanks.” I took another sip of coffee. “If it’s not a blind date disguised as a dinner date, then yes, I’d love to come over.”

“I don’t know who she’s invited,” he replied, hiding that twisted-lip thing he did behind his coffee cup.

“God, you can’t lie for shit.” I conceded defeat. No, I didn’t want a blind date with anyone, but dinner with my best friend and his wife and not another weekend alone sounded pretty bloody good. “Ask her if I need to bring anything.”

“I will,” he said. Then his smile faded before he added, “So, if this Jordan guy catches your bus, you’ll be seeing him again this afternoon…”

“Possibly. But I might not get to speak to him if the bus is crowded or whatever.”

Michael nodded slowly. “Right.”

I sighed. “It’s not like that. It can’t be.”

“I feel a qualifier coming on. It can’t be like that until… it can’t be like that while… it can’t be like—”

“Oh shut up,” I grumbled, turning back to my screen, trying not to smile. “Piss off and let me get back to work.” He smiled and left me to it, thankfully, without another word.

But the truth was, in my mind, I was adding a qualifier. Which wasn’t good.

My priority as a support group leader was to offer support, information, and pathways to resources if required, not to abuse his trust in my hopes of a possible date prospect.