Love in an Elevator

Chapter 1

Chapter 1Corey Hope stiffened when he heard the laugh cut through the air of the restaurant. Kevin Sullivan had been the meanest kid in school, and there hadn’t been a day when Corey hadn’t hoped he’d be run over in the school parking lot—it never happened. He’d never seen a car close to running him over despite suspecting some of the teachers had the same wish he had.

As an adult, he did his best to avoid Kevin, but they had both stayed in Landown, which was a small city, and while they didn’t hang out in the same places or with the same people, Corey spotted him from time to time. Most often he managed to hide.

Turning a fraction, he searched for Kevin on the opposite side of the restaurant. Yup, there he was, sitting at one of the tables closest to the bathrooms. Corey’s heartrate went into overdrive. He had to get out of here before Kevin spotted him.

Looking at Brielle, who sat across the table, he waited until she looked at him before signing that he needed to leave. She frowned and looked around. Brielle was deaf and hadn’t heard Kevin’s laughter, but she knew Corey well and was now searching the crowd.

This Friday night, most tables were filled. Madame Toussaint was the fanciest restaurant in town, and Corey wouldn’t have frequented it as often as he did if he hadn’t gotten the food for free. That wasn’t true. He would still have come, but he’d have coffee instead.

Brielle’s family owned the restaurant, and they were all happy to bury him in food every time he crossed the threshold. He loved them, and not only because they fed him every chance they got.

Before he’d met Brielle, he’d walked around with a pen and notepad, trying to get people to read his notes when there was something he wanted to say. After he’d gotten to know her, he’d started taking classes in sign language. It had changed his life. His hearing worked fine, but his stutter was crippling, and sign language gave him an out.

He’d suffered through school, had avoided all kinds of interaction because of the anxiety they caused. He’d been sent to a speech therapist, and she had been convinced she’d be able to teach him not to stutter, and in the beginning, he’d believed her. He’d hoped with every fiber of his being, but it hadn’t worked. He believed she believed he could learn to talk like normal people, and he’d tried. Then he’d stopped.

He hadn’t wanted anyone to hear him talk—or try to—and learning ASL was the best thing he’d ever done. Not only could he talk to Brielle without problem, but people assumed he was deaf and didn’t expect him to answer. Surprisingly many spoke to him despite believing he was deaf. He didn’t understand it. Why talk to him if they didn’t think he could hear them? And then there were the screamers. Those who believed he was deaf and yet raised their voices when speaking to him, as if shouting would make a deaf person hear them. People were strange.

Brielle’s hands moved through the air. He’s gotten fat.

Corey grinned. She’d found Kevin in the crowd. He hadn’t gotten fat, he looked like he always had—a little older, as they all were. Getting ready to leave, Corey gave Brielle a nervous look. If he kept close to the wall, he had a chance of sneaking out before Kevin spotted him.

When he stood, she gathered their plates and glared in Kevin’s direction. More people had joined his gathering, and Corey sighed. A work thing perhaps. He didn’t know what Kevin did, but he’d started a company after he’d finished school, and word around town was it was going well. He believed it had something to do with events, concerts, and stuff, but he wasn’t sure.

He thanked Brielle for the food, promised to call her the next day, and moved stealthily toward the exit. Tiptoeing was stupid. The hum of voices was loud enough to cover the sounds of his steps had he stomped his way out of there.

Kevin wouldn’t say anything if he noticed him, would he? They were adults now. It hadn’t stopped him a couple of years ago when they’d run into each other on the beach, but he’d been drunk then. This was in a civilized setting.

The knot in his gut wound itself tighter. The Kevin he remembered from school wouldn’t have cared, but they were adults now. Kevin too must have grown some sense.

He was too occupied looking over his shoulder at Kevin’s table to look for the door handle. He hurried forward, too fast to react to the door not being there and the tepid air of the July evening wrapping around him instead of the scents of the restaurant.

His hand hit something warm and solid, but he was too startled to halt his motions before he slammed into the person he’d fondled. s**t.

Staring into a pair of sparkling dark eyes had his heart racing.

“Sorry.” The man’s tone was husky and low as if they knew each other and were in a different situation than they were. Corey raised his hand to sign an apology, but it didn’t obey him, so he smiled instead.

“Are you okay?”

Corey nodded and stepped away from the man. He smelled of shampoo and naughty dreams, and Corey would’ve loved to linger.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded again.

A smile tugged at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Well, then, it was nice meeting you.” He didn’t move, his dark eyes swept over Corey’s face as if he was searching for something.

Corey smiled and hurried off. He might have come across as a klutz, but he’d escaped Kevin.

* * * *

Hayden Perry drummed the kitchen counter as he waited for the last drops of coffee to drip down. He’d lived in the apartment for two and a half weeks and had unpacked most of his boxes. He’d been at his new job for two weeks, and while he was happy to have his apartment mostly organized, he wished he could throw everything he had in the office into boxes and never come back.

He’d been excited when he’d landed the job as an event planner, but his boss was a d**k, and the events—it was more amateur theater than Broadway.

His first assignment was to plan a spoken word poetry night. He didn’t dislike spoken word, not at all, those who did it well impressed the hell out of him, but it wasn’t the rock concerts the job ad had promised. Though Hayden’s dream wasn’t to arrange rock concerts, and no sane rock star would waste their time visiting a town the size of Landown. He sighed, grabbed the coffee pot, and filled his newest porcelain travel mug. It was a to-go cup with a silicon lid, but Tara insisted on calling them travel mugs. Hayden wasn’t sure if there was a difference between to-go cups and travel mugs, so he didn’t argue.

The good thing about moving to Landown was being close to Tara again. They’d grown up on the same street. He being queer and she being a black girl in a white neighborhood had made them instant friends—outcasts united. They’d gone to the same school, but as soon as she’d finished college, she’d moved. He’d missed her when she’d gone and had believed their friendship would fizzle out and die—he sucked at keeping in contact—but it hadn’t. Tara hadn’t allowed him to slip away, and he was forever grateful for it.

Fitting the lid on the to-go cup, he grabbed it and headed for the door. He was meeting Tara and her boyfriend, Jeremy, in the park. He kicked the front door shut behind him and reached into his pocket for his key.

Once he’d locked, he went toward the elevator. It was ancient, and part of him was afraid a wire would snap and he’d fall to his death.

It didn’t snap, not this time, and he reached the ground floor in no time.

Stepping out, he almost crashed into a man.

“f**k, sorry.” He sidestepped, careful not to spill any coffee, and headed for the door. He got three steps before he stopped and turned around. “Hi.” He grinned at the man who’d walked into him at the restaurant the night before.

He was already inside the elevator. His light-brown hair was tousled, his jeans threadbare, and his build slim. Hazel eyes widened in recognition and when the doors began to slide shut, Hayden rushed back into the elevator. He once again held the cup away from his body to avoid spilling coffee on himself, but the lid kept everything inside.

“I’m Hayden.” He focused on the man. When he didn’t reply, some of Hayden’s joy died. Pestering strangers in elevators wouldn’t earn him any favors. “Do you live here?”

The man nodded.

“Oh, cool, me too. I moved in two weeks ago. I’m on the fourth floor.”

The man was watching him intently, a smile playing on his lips.

“What floor are you on?”

For several seconds, the man stood motionless, then he gestured at the large lit-up three on elevator control panel.

“Third?”

The man nodded. Not very chatty.

“Did you enjoy your visit to the restaurant yesterday?”

Smiling, the man nodded, and Hayden waited for him to ask him something in return—he didn’t. They were nearing the third floor, and panic built in Hayden’s chest. He wanted to hear the man’s voice.

“I enjoyed the food. I had the beef bourguignon or whatever it’s called. There are too many vowels in the French language, impossible to pronounce.”

A chuckle filled the elevator, and Hayden blew out a breath and glanced at the man. Gorgeous.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Hayden almost reached for the man when he walked past him, but right as he was about to halt his escape, the man raised his hand and waved. Hayden stupidly waved back. f**k.