Dinner had been a jokeâin a way, sort of. Shit, Nate just did this thing where his mouth ran and his brain couldnât keep up. Half the time, he couldnât even be help responsible for what his mouth said. He did, though, mean coffee. âToo soon? I thought we were friends already. With you, you know, following me and what not.â He grinned a little, pace slowed to a walk rather than a âIâm totally guilty for something please donât catch meâ sort of a job.
âYou have some police after you? Tsk, tsk.â He tutted, rounding a corner of the busy streets, the guy still by his side. It was weirdâhe wasnât used to walking with people. Fuck, for the most part, Nate worked with books. And when he wasnât working with books, he was working with computers.
Clearly, his life did not have a âhow to talk to peopleâ option.
âI just pissed off some people, wrong place, wrong time.â He half-truthed, becauseâwell, it wasnât a lie. He did piss off some people. He should have been done an hour early, but malfunction happened, soâwrong time, too. Nate stopped abruptly in front of a coffee shop.
He had to meet someone here way, way, way into the night, but he figured heâd hang around. No point of possibly bumping into one of the cops that caught a glimpse of his hair, or his face. Might as well wait it out someplaceâŚquiet. âWell, this is me. As I said, welcome to join me for coffee, if youâreâyou know, still bent on learning my secrets.â It wasnât really known to him, but his humor always left a bit of a mysteryâhe was so unserious most of the time, people almost craved to know, craved to see more. He was veryâŚhidden. Except when he was nervous, like being chased by the cops. Nerves, people could tell. Everything else? Blank.
He nudged the door open with his hip, eyebrows up in an âare you in, or are you out?â sort of gesture.
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