Cross My Candy Heart, page 2
Adam sank into his chair, a solid block of discontent. “Well, congratulations. You’re making my life miserable. Good job.”
His disgruntlement was getting a little tiresome. Justin would give anything to have ever had someone care enough about him to make a grand gesture. He’d never even received a medium gesture before.
“You know,” Justin said, “most people like when someone sends them a telegram, even if it’s a little embarrassing.”
The unhappy line between Adam’s eyes didn’t budge. “This was obviously sent by someone who hates my guts.”
“You know a lot of people like that?” Justin could imagine that Adam might not be the friendliest guy in the office, but surely, he didn’t have enemies plotting against him either. That was a little too far-fetched to believe. In Justin’s experience, most people simply never cared about you. Enemies took effort.
Adam barked a humorless laugh. “Of course not. Everyone loves me. I’m a regular ray of sunshine.”
His sarcasm was obvious, but it was easier for Justin to imagine someone admiring Adam from afar, the way he’d been doing for months, than to imagine some dastardly plan that involved singing teddy bears.
“In that case,” Justin replied, “it was probably sent by someone who loves you.”
The air between them crackled with unease as Adam stood back up, hands fisted at his sides. “You’re not funny.”
Had the stupid boom box always been this heavy? Justin felt as if he was lifting a box of rocks. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was just—”
Adam crowded him back against the door. “You can tell whoever sent you to go to hell. In fact, you can join them. Get out of my office, and don’t come back.”
“Wait, I forgot.” Justin dug in his pocket, arm bent at an awkward angle between them, until he found the final touch of this package. He took out a handful of pink glitter hearts and tossed them in the air, most of them landing on Adam’s flabbergasted head. “Someone thinks you’re bear-y cute!”
The tiny pink hearts did nothing to lessen the rage boiling in Adam’s eyes. Justin felt behind himself for the door handle, blood pumping as a low growl rose in Adam’s chest.
“I’m so, so sorry. It’s in my contract. Um, bye!” Justin scurried out of the office as fast as his clunky bear paws could take him, leaving a trail of glitter in his wake.
At least it was over. If he was lucky, he’d never have to do that ever again.
*
SEVEN IN THE morning was an inhumane hour to be working. Especially in the wake of a weekend spent delivering pizzas after singing love songs and happy birthday wishes and one particularly memorable apology into surprised people’s faces. Justin was probably entitled to legal compensation or something.
Actually, he didn’t mind the early start so much as the early morning clientele. The coffee shop crowd before eight was brutal.
No one really wanted to be up, and they were all in a big hurry to get their caffeine fix. Even though Justin was awake as early and reluctantly as they were, he was expected to work quickly and without mistakes. Neither of which were his strong suit. Cheerful and friendly, he could do. Prompt and perfect? Not so much.
Even worse, he was the one filling orders behind the counter while Cynthia worked the register. She knew he was better in a customer-facing position. He could be charming, but he couldn’t be efficient. The added pressure of the early morning rush only made things more difficult. Following increasingly complicated directions to make coffee-adjacent concoctions stressed him out.
He gave a quiet sigh of relief as she called out a simple order before stiffening up again when she gave him the name. He glanced at the clock: 7:15 on the dot.
Adam. Americano.
It was going to be fine. There was no way Adam could recognize him like this. Barista Justin was five feet, seven inches of barely styled blond curls under an unflattering visor and not so much a mangy six-foot teddy bear from Adam’s nightmares. There was no chance he’d connect the two. Justin’s secret was safe. He made the coffee order from memory and scrawled the name haphazardly across the cup in an effort to appear completely unaffected.
“Adam!” Justin held up the extra-large Americano with a double shot of espresso, smiling as brightly as he could manage on four hours of sleep. At least this was his last chunk of double shifts until next week. Delivering pizzas at night and slinging coffee in the morning was really making his singing telegram afternoons drag. It was getting tough to suppress his yawns long enough to carry a tune.
“Thanks.” Long fingers wrapped above Justin’s on the cardboard cup, barely grazing his skin. They were almost as warm as the coffee.
“Justin, right? Have a nice day.” Unbelievably, a tiny, shy smile lifted the corners of Adam’s lips as he glanced down at Justin’s name tag and then back up to meet his eyes. He was even more handsome when he smiled. There was a long, silent beat as he held Justin’s panicked gaze before he turned away.
A white-hot flash of mortified fear bolted Justin to the floor as he watched Adam leave. It was worth watching. He had to turn himself sideways to fit through the door beside the line of customers leading out to the sidewalk. Even with his shoulders held in, it was a tight squeeze.
He hadn’t recognized him. Of course, he hadn’t. Justin wasn’t wearing a horrible giant teddy bear suit or dropping pink glitter every time he moved. Or singing vintage love songs in his protesting face. His Beans N’ Things uniform consisted of a much less humiliating combination of black polo shirt and khakis under a denim apron.
Adam also looked different when he wasn’t boiling with rage. Much less scary. Almost classically handsome in the morning light, like a painting of an ancient warrior.
It was easy to see why he might have a secret admirer. Although, one who didn’t know his taste or preferences very well.
It didn’t seem like a great way to start off a relationship, but who was Justin to judge? His last relationship had ended with a shocking amount of credit card debt and a small amount of arson.
He still missed that couch.
Garrison? Not so much. Both the arson and the charges on Justin’s card had helped him speedrun getting over that dick and moving on. Their breakup had been a little too heavy on the broke.
Now, he was firmly off the market until he made a dent in his debt and found a place to stay. He couldn’t rely on his friends’ kindness forever.
And no one was willing to risk a couch with his history.
He had plans to view a promising little loft downtown after his shift. An easy walk to his job here at Beans N’ Things, it also had dedicated parking so he could keep his car nearby to drive to his other jobs.
With three jobs going, Justin was ready to dig himself out of this hole. Cent by hard-earned cent. He could already see light at the end of the tunnel.
He ignored his phone buzzing as he served nine more impatient customers in a row. Adam had been the most pleasant interaction by far, and he’d barely said a thing.
Sometimes, Justin preferred a man of few words.
Not that he was preferring any man in particular. He’d sworn off men entirely until he could open a credit card bill without wheezing. It just wasn’t worth it, handing over his heart only to have it stomped on time and again. He had a bad habit of falling too hard, too fast, and hitting the ground with a crash when reality set in.
No, he’d learned his lesson. No more men. No boyfriends, no crushes, no friendly flirting.
No burnt couches.
A dozen more customers passed through before he had time to check his phone.
It was a new assignment from Season’s Greetings. He’d only cleared the last three on his roster the day before. With Valentine’s Day rapidly approaching, he could expect to pick up more assignments than usual.
Or, wait. Maybe it was an error. The order form was nearly identical to Friday’s disastrous assignment. Same address, same anonymous sender who didn’t leave a tip, same recipient.
Same recipient. All it said on the form was “Adam, 319.”
He didn’t have to take it. If he refused, made up some excuse of a conflicting schedule or something, it would quickly get picked up by someone else. Someone with no idea what they were walking into.
At least he and Adam had a history. They understood each other. Justin wanted to get the job done and get out, and Adam wanted to set him on fire with his eyes.
No, no more setting things on fire, please. Fucking Garrison. Now, there was a true asshole. Justin would’ve been lucky if Garrison had just sent passive aggressive singing telegrams instead of cheating, and stealing, and leaving scorch marks on the ceiling that had lost Justin his security deposit.
And his apartment.
He accepted the assignment, sighing as he read the specifics.
They wanted the Sweetheart package with extra glitter and a personalized box of candy.
Something told him Adam wasn’t going to like the Sweetheart package any better than the Teddy Bear one. He hadn’t seemed like a glitter guy. Or a candy guy.
He hadn’t even added any sugar to his Americano, didn’t seem to have much of a sweet tooth.
Well, maybe if he refused the candy, Justin could keep it for an after-work snack. He’d always been a bit of a chocolate fiend, and he was on a very tight budget. If he was feeling extra pathetic, he could even pretend Adam had given it to him as a gift.
It was Monday; he was allowed to be pathetic on Mondays.
*
“REALLY?” ADAM GRUMBLED as he spun his chair around to face the enormous heart-shaped bulk of Justin’s candy heart costume. “You can’t be serious.”
It was by far the worst outfit in the entire Season’s Greetings catalog, constructed from heavy papier-mâché plastered over chicken wire and painted bright yellow, tattered and worn along the edges. He’d been forced to dig it out of storage since it wasn’t very popular. The fabric screen Justin looked through was definitely moth-eaten, and smelled of damp. The lavender hand-lettered BE MINE painted across the front had dripped a bit at the end, and whoever had painted it hadn’t even bothered to wipe it up. It wasn’t the company’s finest effort. The Sweetheart package was priced accordingly, a budget option. Still, it was more than Justin could ever afford, but not exactly the Kiss Me Cupid Special.
Justin attempted to wave a hand apologetically but only managed to smack his arm against the sharp internal chicken wire cage. He suppressed a pained whimper as he stooped to set his boom box on the floor. He held out the heart-shaped box of chocolates. “Hiya. We got a second order, this time for the sweetheart romance package. Someone must really be longing for you.”
Adam took the chocolate and examined the boom box with nothing short of dread. “I seriously doubt that.” His gaze sharpened as he peered at Justin’s view screen. “Wait. It’s you, again, isn’t it?”
There was no way he recognized him from the coffee shop. Justin was only visible from elbow to fingertip and ankle to toes, and even that was encased in shiny pink spandex, oversized white cartoon gloves, and sensible white tennis shoes. Sweat began to accumulate down Justin’s back at the thought of being recognized.
He’d known when he took this gig he was trading his dignity for cash. It hadn’t seemed like a bad deal at the time, with the scent of burning foam still seared into his nostrils. He just hadn’t expected to have to do it in front of someone he kinda sorta spent half his days pining over in a definitely not pathetic way.
“You always sound so familiar. What’s your name?” Adam rolled closer, scanning Justin from the top of his lopsided heart to his toes as if he might find a hidden clue.
The speed at which Justin’s inappropriate fascination with Adam backfired nearly knocked his costume off. He tried to wring his hands but only succeeded in removing one of his gloves, which he hastily shoved back on. “Sorry, we’re actually not supposed to give out our names on the job. It takes away from the magic. We’re not supposed to waste time chatting either, so I better get started.”
“If I can’t convince you to leave, we might as well get this over with. Can I make a request?” Adam slumped in his chair, every inch of him projecting defeat.
It tugged at Justin’s battered heartstrings. He already felt bad about having to go through with the order after Adam’s less than satisfied experience with the last one. He tried for a sympathetic stance, worried it came across more like a cardboard box trying to curtsy. “Of course, Mr. Hubert.”
At least Justin’s failure to even stand gracefully seemed to lift Adam’s mood. He dropped the frown as he looked up at Justin with dark, pleading eyes, and Justin’s real actual heart skipped a beat, and oh, no. That could become a very serious problem. Cardiac or romantic, he didn’t have room in his schedule for it either way.
The pleading eyes didn’t get any less compelling as Adam glanced down at his feet and back up to the screen hiding Justin’s face. “Adam. Call me Adam. Would you mind— Could you try to keep it down this time? Sing quietly or something? The guys really busted my balls over the last one. I could live without their incessant crowing over this whole thing.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound like a good time. Justin had worked in more than his share of shitty environments, and snickering coworkers was almost never fun.
“I can do that for you, Adam.” He took the request seriously, lowering his voice before he even started singing.
It was different, this time. Something about trying to start up a telegram was much more difficult after an earnest conversation. He didn’t have time to distance himself from the indignities of the job.
It was just him and Adam in a cramped office, staring at each other as they waited for Justin to start serenading him quietly.
For the very first time since he’d started this job, a frisson of excitement zipped up his spine as he got into position, arms out wide, heart facing Adam. It was supposed to be romantic. Justin had always considered it to be more silly and sweet, but now he could sense an actual element of romance in the air. This was the reason people sent these things. He was starting to get it.
Adam watched him with barely repressed apprehension, chewing his lip as he spared one last glance at the tightly closed door.
Quiet. Justin could do quiet.
There were a lot of things he thought he could do, if only Adam asked it of him. But he wouldn’t because Adam didn’t even know who he was. Was it sad that the anonymous sender of these telegrams wasn’t the only one pining in this situation? Maybe a little because Justin was the only one who knew. The only one who would ever know.
He nudged the button on the boom box with his foot and began, pitching his voice soft and low. “Let me call you sweetheart—”
This time, there was no looking away. Adam lounged back in his seat with the barest hint of a smile. “Thought I told you to call me Adam.”
Was he sweating already? Justin was definitely sweating through his spandex unitard as heat crawled across his cheeks and down his neck. “I’m in love with you—”
Adam tapped a pen against his chin, the usually hostile jut of his jaw melting away into amusement. “A little sudden, but okay.”
It was dangerous, the anonymity the costume afforded him. At this rate, Justin was going to get into the habit of openly staring, cataloguing every detail of Adam’s face. That was definitely going to bite him in the ass one day. “Let me hear you whisper—”
“I mean, if that’s what you’re into.” Adam was full-blown smiling now, all traces of worry washed away as he rested his elbows on his knees to lean closer.
Justin couldn’t help but smile in return, hidden behind his costume, his suppressed laughter adding a wobble to his voice. “That you love me too—”
Adam nodded as he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt. He was unreasonably fit for an IT guy with a desk job. It was a crime against Justin, personally. “Fine. I love you too, giant, lopsided candy heart. Even if you’re crumbling around the edges.”
It wasn’t fair. Justin was simply trying to get through his day and collect a paycheck. He didn’t want to linger over the soft drape of Adam’s oxford shirt across his chest. Or the sparkle in his eye as he waited for Justin to continue. Justin couldn’t allow it to have any impact on him, his heart, or, inevitably, his credit score. He’d have to remain as solid as his costume.
He patted over as much of the papier-mâché as he could reach, feeling for new flaws in the uneven surface. “What, where?”
Adam gestured vaguely at Justin’s knees with an apologetic grimace. “Down near the point, your chicken wire is showing through the plaster. Shoddy craftsmanship, if you ask me.”
Justin’s heart sank as he found the crumbling plaster. “Shit. They’ll dock my pay for that. I knew this thing wasn’t going to fit in the stupid elevator.”
He’d heard a crunch when he got caught in the doors but decided to ignore it in hopes there was no visible damage. Maybe if he didn’t mention it when he turned it in, they might think it was already damaged when he got it. If he and everyone in the surrounding area were lucky, they’d retire the damn thing.
“How did you fit it in your car?” Adam stood to walk a tight, considering circle around Justin as if he was assessing his costume for purchase.
As if anyone would ever want this abomination.
Justin flicked the crumbling edge with ill intent. “Barely, and with ample cursing.”
Adam nodded and leaned in, trying to squint through the screen at Justin’s face. “You allowed to accept tips?”
“Yeah, but usually the sender leaves a tip, not the recipient.” Justin stepped back, pulse pounding even though he knew it was impossible to see very well through the other side of the screen.
Another nod and a hard stare at the screen, and Adam gave up trying to find Justin’s face, his expression pinched over his nose as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Here’s a tip, man. Find a new job, and never come back here again.”
Justin’s stomach sank. For a moment there, he thought they were having a bit of fun together. Like friends.
He shuffled over to the boom box and turned it off before he hefted it with some difficulty. Before he could reach the door, Adam rapped on his costume with an echoing, hollow sound.
