Love Starved (13 page)

A bookcase occupied most of the wall to his right, crammed with books that seemed to make up the majority of Angel’s possessions. Micah recognized several titles, but many names told him nothing. Some of the books looked used, well-loved even, and there seemed to be a wide spectrum of genres. There was a whole section of popular science and another with travel books—mostly about Egypt, Scandinavia and Greece. On the windowsill to the left, next to the little dining table, an older model iPod sat in its docking station. A library copy of a recent legal thriller by a popular author sat on the coffee table, bookmarked with a bus ticket, but no knick-knacks or personal pictures were visible anywhere.

“Here.” Angel put a steaming mug before Micah. “You don’t take sugar, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Angel returned to the kitchen and came back with a glass of tap water for himself, then settled on the opposite end of the couch, which still only left about six inches of space between their knees. He drank some water, put down the glass and then picked it up again.

“So…” he hesitated. “Thank you for getting me to the hospital. And for taking the blame for, you know.” He shrugged a shoulder.

Micah nodded. “Did they buy it?”

“I’m not sure. They kept asking if I really didn’t want to report it. After the third time telling them it was consensual, I firmly asked them to drop it.”

Micah took a sip of his coffee. It was good; strong and fragrant. “Was it?” he asked after a beat of hesitation. “Consensual?”

Angel raised his chin, his jaw hardening. “Of course it was.”

“And… you didn’t mind me seeing it when you came over that night?”

That made Angel falter. “Well… That particular encounter didn’t happen until the day before I was set to meet you and I hadn’t really planned on it going that way. But I rescheduled your night twice already, and I couldn’t do that again. I thought I’d explain it. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay.”

Oh, Micah would
so
mind. It would have totally freaked him out and probably put a stop to any further developments if he saw Angel’s back like that during—or before—sex, but he chose not to mention it. It didn’t matter anyway.

“And you’re right, I should have answered your calls, or at least texted you,” Angel said, eyes focused on his water glass. “I guess I’m not used to people calling just to check on me.”

“Oh.” Micah didn’t know what to say to this. So much seemed wrong about that statement. But Angel was already straightening up, his voice forcefully perky.

“Anyway, yes, I’m alright. I had an ulcer, it turns out, and it finally eroded a blood vessel. Apparently taking painkillers too often can do that to you.”

Micah winced with sympathy. “Ouch. And you never noticed it before?”

Angel shrugged. “I had pretty bad stomachaches sometimes, but they were always coming and going. I just told myself I had a sensitive stomach, you know? I didn’t want this to be serious. Now it got to the point where it could no longer be ignored.” He looked at Micah. “They said it was a close call. I’m lucky I wasn’t alone here when it happened, I guess; I might have tried to wish it away until it was too late.”

“You did.”

“Thank you for not listening to me.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Micah asked, “So that’s it, you’re fine now?”

“I’m still a little weak, but yes. They went in to stop the bleeding, pumped me full of blood and gave me tons of meds that I have to take for some time, but I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Because you were worried.” Angel smiled feebly, for the first time tonight.

“Because I was worried.”

A doorbell rang and Angel got up to open the door, returning with a bag from the local Chinese place.

“Sorry, I ordered before you came.” Angel stood awkwardly by the table. “But I can share.”

“No, thanks. I have dinner waiting at home. But should you be eating that? After the stomach surgery and all?”

Angel put the bag down on the kitchen counter. “I don’t cook and I have to eat something.” He shrugged. “But it’s pretty bland for Chinese. The doctors said I need to avoid hot spices, coffee, alcohol and too much fat, but for the most part, I can eat normally. It wasn’t really a surgery, just an endoscopy procedure. There’s not a mark on me.”

“Oh, good,” Micah smirked before he could stop himself. “You wouldn’t want any nasty scars on that marvelous body of yours.”

Angel chuckled, and it was music to Micah’s ears after his distant demeanor. “Please.”

“What? I’m serious. You have a nice body and I’m glad it’s not ruined before I even had a chance to see it properly.”

He felt the heat in his cheeks even before he saw Angel’s eyes go comically wide. “Are you flirting with me? After I scared you to death and ruined your floor?”

Fuck. That was
not
the plan. Micah reached for his coffee cup again.

“Okay, shut up and eat your dinner. I have some caffeine to ingest,” he mumbled and determinedly didn’t look at Angel for the next few minutes.

After that, he may have glanced. Just a little.

“Okay, I’d better go. I
took enough of your time,” Micah said an hour later, looking at the clock.

They’d started comparing their tastes in books while Angel ate. The conversation had led to a rather fascinating discussion about urban fantasy versus high fantasy. Micah could just sit and talk to Angel for hours, but his stomach was reminding him he hadn’t eaten his own dinner, and Angel’s eyes were starting to droop.

“I’m glad you came,” Angel said. “It’s been nice to just… talk. It can get pretty quiet when I don’t go out.”

“No friends visiting you?”

Angel busied himself gathering dishes. His face was neutral, but he didn’t look at Micah as he said, “No.”

It wasn’t pity that made Micah ask, “Can I come by some other day? Keep you company?”

And he was sure Angel knew that because he only hesitated a little before nodding. “If you want to.”

The next time Micah stood
in front of Angel’s door, it was a Saturday afternoon, he had his arms full, and it was all Claudia’s fault.

She’d met him for brunch—turned up at their usual bistro late, sniffly and sans make-up—and proceeded to whine about feeling like death warmed over and missing their mom’s chicken soup. Micah touched her forehead and then promptly put her in a cab and sent her home, calling Brad to warn him he was going to have a sick fiancée on his hands. Claudia was always a handful when she didn’t feel well.

Micah stopped by the grocery store on the way home and then he turned on the music, put on an apron, and spent a few hours in his kitchen. Claudia was right: There was nothing like homemade food to say “Get better” and “I care” when one was sick or recovering, and he could think of someone besides his sister who could use a pick-me-up. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that someone since Wednesday.

After a detour to drop off a pot of his famous chicken soup at Claudia’s, Micah made his way to Angel’s apartment. He hesitated before knocking. Maybe he was overstepping? Oh well. It was too late to turn back.

Angel opened the door with a smile, and then his eyes grew wider when he took in the container in Micah’s hands and the bag hanging heavily from his forearm.

“What—” he started, and then seemed to remember his manners. “Hi. Come on in.”

“Thanks.”

Micah walked right into the tiny kitchen and put his baggage on the counter.

“Oh, good,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you had a freezer. It would be a bit of a problem if you didn’t.”

He turned to smile at Angel and was met with a wary frown.

“Micah, what are you doing?”

“I brought you food.”

Angel’s frown deepened. “Listen, I don’t want pity. I’m doing just fine and—”

Micah raised his hands. “Whoa, no. No pity here, I swear. I just wanted to help.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know, but this is what I do, okay? You said you don’t cook—well, I do. I love cooking and I don’t have nearly enough reasons to do it for anyone but myself. So why don’t you let me, just this once? I promise; I’m really good, and this is bound to be more healthy than takeout.” When Angel just watched him with his jaw set, Micah added, “But if you really don’t want me to, I will take this back. I can drop it by Claudia’s. She won’t complain.”

Angel slowly exhaled and Micah could see him work on relaxing his tense posture. Finally he said, “It’s really kind of you. I appreciate the thought, but it just wouldn’t be appropriate to accept such a gesture from a client.”

“But I’m not here as a client now. Would you accept it from a friend?”

It was more than food that he was offering, and Angel seemed to get it; his eyes scanned Micah’s face.

“Yes. I think it would be okay to accept it from a friend.” The frown on his face faded. “Thank you, Micah. But just this once, okay? I don’t feel comfortable… accepting things.”

Micah nodded quickly. “Just this once. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just… I thought you could use some good homemade food while you’re recovering.” He turned to the counter to escape the tension still in the air. “Here’s some homemade chicken soup—it’s lean, so it should fit your diet. And there’s a casserole and some chicken risotto; both can be frozen. Just pop them in the oven when you want them. It’s all natural and stomach-friendly; I checked.” He turned to Angel again with a careful smile.

Angel nodded. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to.”

Micah shrugged. “I had an excuse to freeze some for myself, too. I just made double.” Angel finally seemed relaxed enough to return his smile, so Micah stepped away from the counter and into the living room. “Okay, I’ll get out of your way. Put it where you want it.”

The coffee table was covered with books and papers, and Micah glanced at them curiously as he settled on the couch.

“Why are you reading about property law?” he asked, confused.

“Because the new semester starts in two weeks, and I want to prepare my books and notes while I have time,” Angel said, his back to Micah as he faced the open fridge.

“So… you’re still in school?”

“I am.”

“
Law
school?”

Angel finally turned to look at him. “Yes.”

“Really? I thought the ‘lawyer’ part was made up.”

Angel shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to stay close to the truth when you’re inventing a persona. Does it bother you?” He leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“No, just confuses the hell out of me. Why would you—” The look on Angel’s face warned him that he was entering an unwelcome territory. “Never mind. Why would it bother me? A prospect of having a lawyer friend in a year or two? Awesome. I’ll know who to call if I ever get in trouble.”

The moment it left his mouth, Micah knew it was the wrong thing to say. He didn’t know which part of it caused Angel’s face to close up—was it his assumption that they would become, and stay, friends? Or the prospect of Micah expecting anything from him in the future? Maneuvering this new dynamic was proving to be tricky without knowing anything much about Angel himself.

“So what should I call you?” Micah asked, risking even more awkwardness, but determined to establish it once and for all. “You know, when I’m not seeing you as a client,” he clarified when Angel seemed confused. “Should I still call you Angel?”

“Um. Well, Angel is a strictly professional nickname, and since you’re here as a… friend,” Angel said softly, “why don’t you use my real name?”

Micah grinned. “Aiden,” he tried it out. “I like it.”

Angel—no, wait, Aiden, he’d need to remember—smiled. He looked a little dazed, and Micah found himself babbling to fill the awkward silence.

“Fun fact: every time I hear
Angel
, my mind jumps to that scene in
X-Men: The Last Stand
. Have you seen it? I don’t know if you’re into superheroes at all, but there’s this scene where Angel—he’s a mutant with gorgeous, huge white wings—he just snaps the restraints and then jumps out the window and flies away. The moment when we see him unfold his wings for the first time—I don’t know why, but it’s just such a powerful scene for me.”

Aiden walked over to the bookcase and crouched to reach to the bottom shelf that was—Micah now saw—filled with DVDs. He pulled out a familiar case and passed it to Micah with a genuine smile on his face.

“I love that scene. I think it’s the freedom that makes it so powerful. Breaking free from other people’s expectations.”

Micah beamed. “Yes! Wow, I haven’t seen that part in ages. You know, Claudia always says she should have guessed I was gay because I never liked typical ‘guy movies,’ even way before I came out. I never wanted to watch horror or zombie movies, or action stuff—which, of course, doesn’t prove anything but a certain taste. But I’ve always loved superhero movies, especially those from the Marvel universe. She claims people who like them either have a hero complex or a hidden desire to be rescued, but I don’t think that’s it. They’re just… fun, you know? They don’t have to be deep and meaningful to be good entertainment. Not that they aren’t deep and meaningful sometimes.”

Aiden was grinning now, perched on the armrest. “Wanna watch it together?”

“Don’t you have school prep to finish?”

“Sometime in the next two weeks, I do.” Aiden shrugged. “But I have time. I can make coffee for you, and there’s ice cream; we can have a proper movie night. Well, afternoon.”

“Can you eat ice cream?”

“No one said I can’t, and it never bothered my stomach, so I’m gonna say yes. No coffee for me, though. I have herbal tea.” He made a face.

Micah laughed. “Okay then. You had me at ice cream. I’d love to stay and salivate over leather-clad mutants with you.”

Aiden waggled his eyebrows. “Wolverine?”

“Iceman, actually.”

“Ah. You prefer boyish good looks then. Fair enough. Why don’t you put the disc in and set it up? I’ll get the drinks.”

One movie turned into two because they both agreed that the second one in the series was the best of the initial trilogy, and between watching and talking and laughing, the sun had set by the time Micah left Aiden’s apartment. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, and Aiden lingered in the doorway, smiling that sweet, dimpled smile that Micah hadn’t realized had been missing since the weekend at the lake.

“Thank you,” Aiden said. “This was the best afternoon I’ve had in a long time.”

“Me too,” Micah admitted. “I’ll call you?”

“Okay.”

Micah was still debating whether
less than twenty-four hours was too short a time to call a guy after the first friend-date, especially when he didn’t have anything in particular to say and just wanted to chat, when his phone chirped with an incoming text message.

Angel:
I swear I just moaned out loud over your soup. What did you put in there??

Micah grinned and replied,
Was it a good kind of moan or an ouchy kind of moan?

Angel:
Definitely good. I’m pretty sure I’ve never eaten better chicken soup, and that’s saying something because we had a cook when I was a kid. This is fantastic. What’s the magic ingredient?

Micah:
Oh, you know, the usual. Organic chicken, organic veggies, some herbs, virgin tears, unicorn dust…

Micah:
I can’t tell you all my secret ingredients, obviously ;) But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

Micah:
Just wait for the casserole.

Angel:
Mmm, don’t tempt me, I’m not supposed to eat too much at once and I’m already considering seconds.

Micah:
:) I’ll leave you to it then. Enjoy!

Angel:
Oh, I will! Thank you :)

Micah put his phone away with a smile. Cooking for someone else had never been this satisfying.

How much would you mind
if I killed one of your clients?

Micah wrote the text on Thursday afternoon, sending it out without a second’s hesitation. Since Sunday, Aiden and he had been texting regularly, and glancing at his phone all through the day was becoming Micah’s new guilty pleasure.

Aiden answered not a minute later.

Angel:
From the legal point of view, I would advise against it. Other than that, it depends on the client, I guess. Who did you have in mind?

Micah:
Daphne.

Angel:
Well, I’ve only met her once, so I wouldn’t feel the loss
TOO
terribly ;)

Angel:
Wait, you weren’t serious, were you?

Angel:
Micah?

Angel:
Please don’t kill Daphne, she’s nice.

Angel:
In fact, please don’t kill anyone, okay?

Micah:
Ugh, are you sure? Because I’m very tempted.

Angel:
What did she do?

Micah:
She asked me to monitor her company computers. She thinks someone is leaking her schedules and ideas. I set it all up last night, and now she’s calling me every hour asking if there’s any news.
THESE THINGS TAKE TIME, WOMAN!

Micah:
I get that she’s worried, but dear God, I have a book proposal to write and submit
TODAY
and I can’t focus with her constant interruptions.

Angel:
Have you heard of this wondrous little option of silencing your phone? If you put it in your pocket, you won’t even know she called.

Micah:
Carrying a phone in your pocket is bad for your testicles, don’t you know? And silencing never works with her. She’d just come here and bother me in person. I think I’ll threaten her instead. That should work.

Angel:
Whoa, remind me not to get on your bad side.

Angel:
But hey, are we talking about balls now? Balls-adjacent topics are always fun to discuss. Tell me more.

Micah:
Nope. Book proposal.

Angel:
Boo. Okay, good luck! I’ll go for a run or something. Talk to you later :)

Micah was smiling when he got back to work, his annoyance gone. He could really get used to this.

“Do you like vegetarian lasagna?”

After a moment of silence on the receiver, a sleep-rough voice said, “Good morning to you, too.”

Micah glanced at the clock. “Were you still asleep? At eleven? How late did you stay up?”

“Hey,” Aiden protested, sounding more awake. “Friends don’t judge friends’ sleep patterns. And I don’t know; I fell asleep reading. Why are you calling me at such a godforsaken hour?”

Micah rolled his eyes, but his smile couldn’t have been wider. “To ask if you like vegetarian lasagna.”

“I have no idea. I like the regular kind.”

“Well, tough luck, because I have a craving for vegetarian today. Wanna come for dinner and try it? I’ve been told it’s divine.”

“Micah, we’ve talked about your attempts to feed me. I still have your risotto in the freezer.”

Micah sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine, let me rephrase it: Please come for dinner because I want lasagna and there’s no way I can justify making the whole thing just for myself.”

“Are you trying to convince me that no one else wants to enjoy it with you?” Aiden sounded amused. Micah could imagine him spread out on his back in the bed, smiling. Shirtless.

Oops. Better not go there.

He did his best to sound mildly offended. “I’ll have you know that I tried. Claudia is going out with the cast of her new show after the rehearsal tonight; Brad is out of town; and Daphne is doing some crazy diet again. No, I’m not on a mission to fatten you up, but I would enjoy your company. Will you please have dinner with me? We can watch both of the Wolverine movies afterward if you want.”