Going Rogue

Twenty-Two

DREW

We didn't move far from the thrift store. Cameron bought me a coffee from the café and then, warm apple cider when I said I never had it, a water and a chocolate pastry too. I was getting the feeling that people from this town just knew to feed people when they were upset. I had to stop him from buying me a sandwich when I finished the pastry.

Cameron couldn't stop pacing while I sat on the bench outside. From here, we could vaguely hear the puffs and clangs from the café working hard, the chatter of people inside and a playlist of acoustic music. Cameron fussed with his hair over and over again. He zipped up his jacket and then, unzipped it. He asked, "How do I look?"

"Good," I said, struggling to hold my drinks. "But stressed."

He groaned and took the water like it was vodka.

A few minutes later, a man approached. I figured it was Mark by the way Cameron described him, a tall Japanese man with neatly trimmed hair, styled out of his face. Cameron said he was a middle school literature teacher, which made sense with his semi-formal wear and tie, underneath a dark blue sweater. He wore a long gray peacoat over it all and a leather briefcase was strapped to his back.

"Well, I'm disappointed. You had the balls to call me and the town isn't burning down," Mark said. He came close, but still an arm's length away from Cameron's touch and crossed his arms. There was a wall that even I could see. "I wanted a light show."

"I need a favor," Cameron said. He held his breath, filling his whole chest.

"Hold on..." Mark raised his hand. He tilted his body to look around Cameron's chest to see me. "Who's this? Show me some manners."

"Right! Mark, this is Drew. Drew this is Mark."

"Nice to meet you," Mark said. It seemed like he meant it too. He approached and joined me on the bench, offering me his hand. I took a moment to work up the courage to accept it. Closer, Mark's pale skin couldn't hide the dark circles around his eyes and yet, there was something so regale about him, something also so cold like marble.

He asked me, "I hope this isn't rude, but are you one of the rogues?"

"Um, yes," I admitted it and offered one of my drinks. He took the coffee.

"Welcome to Dearest, then." He turned his attention to Cameron, sipping on the drink. "Is this guy bothering you, Drew?" He motioned at the blonde. "If you think he's about to do something stupid, he is. Get out. Leave."

"He's actually been a gentleman," I said, glancing at Cameron. This made Mark's eyes widen just a little bit, but the shock faded. He hummed, leaning against the bench and inspecting his distant mate.

"You make me sound so sinister," Cameron feigned being insulted, touching his chest.

"You're not cunning enough to be sinister. What's the favor?"

"It's actually a favor I need from your mom and she hates me. She loves you, so she's more likely to be nicer to you."

"I would hope so-" He touched the wrinkle forming between his brow, trying to sooth it. "Not the hate part, the loving me part."

"I want to get Drew a job at the bookstore."

Mark and I blinked in unison. We didn't speak, waiting for a coherent explanation. Cameron sighed. "He needs the job and I think it would be good for him...." Cameron sat on the armrest of the bench, next to me. He rubbed his legs, sort of talking to me, sort of rambling to himself. "I don't know, I just thought it would help. I should have asked over the phone."