All You Touch, page 5
Then she’d sneered at him and said calculus had been her favorite class last year.
In high school.
“I just had a long day, and I was trying to get this all done while my shop was open,” he muttered.
None of them gave a shit that he was a business owner. In their eyes, he was a twenty-eight-year-old old grandpa who had no business being in a class with them. So, he shut his mouth and tried not to stare at Noah as he went over all the group work and assigned the next project.
When the clock hit nine, West let out a heavy breath and waited for everyone to pack up and leave. He lingered, watching Noah swipe the eraser across the board, and when the door shut, he cleared his throat and approached slowly.
“Hey, uh. Can I steal a second of your time?”
Noah turned and offered him a smile—something a little more friendly than he usually did in class. Their shops were neighbors, though Noah was rarely at the Café, but they had an understanding between them that the professor didn’t have with most of his students.
“Of course. What’s up?”
West swallowed thickly and set his paper down on the desk. “So, this super fun F we got on the math portion of the assignment…”
Noah’s face fell. “If you’re trying to ask me to change your grade, you know I can’t do that, West.”
“I just wanted to let you know it was my fault,” West said, speaking quickly. He felt old around the students, but he felt painfully young around the professor. “The group decided instead of all working together, we’d each take one part of the project. And I really suck at math.”
Noah’s brows dipped into a heavy frown, and he crossed his arms. His eyes always looked so huge behind his thick lenses, and right now they were boring into him. “Your group gave you the math—which I’d say was the heaviest part of this project, even though you’re not good at it?”
West flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “More like I was the dumbass who volunteered to take it even though I have dyscalculia and none of that shit even makes sense to me.” He glanced down at his shoes. “I can’t even read a clock. I don’t know why the hell I thought this class was a good idea.”
Noah was quiet for a long time, and when West finally looked up, the man was leaning against his desk. “Do you want to go get a coffee? We can sneak in the back door of my shop. I keep a spare machine in the back kitchen for caffeine emergencies.”
West laughed. “Shit, yeah.” The shops were within walking distance, though everything in St. James was within walking distance. “Are you done here?”
Noah waved his hand at the computer. “I just need to shut down and lock up. Meet you in the courtyard?”
West grabbed his things, then checked his phone to find a message from Hannah letting him know that the water was out again. Not that it mattered since his piece-of-shit shower was always on the fritz, but he had really wanted to unwind in what little hot water the damn pipes would give him.
He found himself letting out something between a sigh and a sob as he texted her back, and then he heard a weird shuffling noise and turned to find Noah walking toward him with a white cane. It startled him only because he had no idea. Then again, he only ever saw Noah behind his counter at the Café or in front of the lecture room, but still.
“I didn’t know you were blind,” he said, then felt a little bit like an ass for being insensitive.
Noah didn’t seem bothered though as he came to a stop next to West. “I’m legally blind now,” he said, then started forward, and West hurried to catch up. “I have Stargardt’s. I’ve had it since I was in my early twenties, but it just now started getting bad.”
“Sorry,” West said, and when Noah winced, he smacked himself on the forehead. “No, I mean sorry for asking. It was super fucking rude.”
At that, Noah softened and shook his head, turning the corner onto the shop street. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of a pain though. Work’s been getting harder, and I was planning to retire and do the Café full-time, but…”
West didn’t need to be an expert in reading people to know exactly why Noah sounded the way he did. “LPM?”
Noah’s face darkened. “Rhys has been trying to get them to sell the building to him, and he promised that if those assholes decided to pull the rug from under me, he’d find the Café new premises. But I’m barely making rent as it is, and I don’t know if I could afford to start up all over again.”
West’s stomach twisted into a knot. “They own my building too. The one I live in. We tried to sue them, but they keep getting our case thrown out on technicalities. We’re all out of money at this point, but it’s so…” He let out a frustrated growl. “Do you know I haven’t had a shower in a month and a half? I’ve been taking standing baths with a bucket and water I heat on the stove.”
“Are you serious?” Noah asked him, his glasses glinting in the streetlight when he turned his head. “How is the court throwing that case out?”
“Because that fucker has all the judges in his pocket, and they’ve bled us dry. No lawyer wants to touch us because they know it’s an unwinnable case, and all the money we raised for our original retainer is gone.” He dragged a hand down his face and sighed. “We don’t even have another filing fee between us, and people keep moving out.”
“West,” Noah said, very quietly, “I’m so sorry. Why don’t we head to my place, and instead of a coffee, you can use my tub—which, by the way, is massive—and I have a tankless water heater, so it won’t ever run out.”
West opened his mouth to decline, but the very thought of sinking into hot water and just letting himself luxuriate made him want to cry. His throat was tight when he answered him. “I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“You won’t be. I know it’s weird because I’m your professor,” Noah said, “but I’m also kind of a colleague, and we’re both in the same spot, thanks to Larsen.”
Which, okay, that was true. Their shops were all along the same strip, and if West hadn’t been a student, he and Noah would have probably been something like friends. And frankly, West wasn’t in the position to turn down an ally in this situation. He might have been living in St. James for several years, but life had been so damn busy, he hadn’t really had the time to make it a home. “Only if you’re sure.”
Noah reached for him with his free hand and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m more than sure.”
Noah didn’t live far—just a couple blocks down from the Café, on a neighborhood street right off the main road. It was a single-story house at the far curve of a cul-de-sac, with a trimmed little garden in the front and a single step up onto the porch which led to the front door.
“You own this place?” West asked, staring around. It was so much nicer than his, he wanted to cry.
Noah smiled and shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. London Enterprise bought it from under LPM. It was the last acquisition they were able to make before LPM shut them out. Rhys is planning on selling to me right before I retire from the university.”
West waited until the man had turned the key in the lock, and then they both stepped in, and Noah flicked on the lights. It was an open space, a living room that led to the kitchen, then a small hallway where he assumed held the bedrooms and bathrooms.
“You’re kind of young to retire, aren’t you?” West asked as Noah threw his bag on the sofa, then hung his cane on the coat rack.
Noah glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Technically, yes. My retirement benefits are going to be a lot less than most people’s, but that’s what the Café was for. But it’s just getting more difficult to handle labs and everything since my disease started progressing.”
West wanted to apologize again, but he didn’t want to sound like a patronizing ass. “Is it what you want though? I mean, I know there are blind teachers all over the world.”
Noah laughed and waved him over to the kitchen counter, and he pulled his coffee maker away from the wall. “There are, but I think they have a lot more passion and drive than I do. It’s…” He fell quiet a moment as he pulled coffee from the cupboard and began to scoop it into the little basket. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’ve been obsessed with biology since I was a kid. One year, my parents saved every penny so they could send me to marine biology camp on Coronado Island.”
West smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
Noah looked over his shoulder, and his grin widened. “It was a blast. It only made me want this more. But…I’m not a teacher.”
“Uh,” West said, leaning on the counter, “I beg to differ, since you just failed me for my shitty math.”
Noah laughed, turning away to grab mugs. “Fair, but teaching wasn’t what I wanted to do. I was working in a lab in Lima, studying shrimp, when I started to notice that I was having trouble seeing in the center of my eyes. It got worse rapidly, then it plateaued, but it made all the intricate lab work more difficult, and I just didn’t have the resources to fight for more accessibility.”
West licked his lips. “That sucks.”
Noah snorted, and he turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. It was then West noticed the way Noah stared at people, with his head tilted and his eyes either looking up or to the side.
“It definitely sucked. Coming to terms with the fact that it was going to get worse, not better, sent me into a pretty bad depression spiral. It took me a couple years to climb out of it.” He let out a puff of air and dropped his hands to his sides. “I thought teaching might give me back something, especially when the doctors noticed that the vision loss had plateaued. I could do classroom stuff, you know? But…”
“It got worse again?” West chanced.
The coffee maker beeped, so Noah turned and filled the mugs. “I started needing a white cane at night about six months ago, and over the last few months, I’ve been needing it more during the day. The Café plan was always kind of a theory, but now it’s a reality, and I’m terrified that Larsen is going to take it from me.”
“Rhys won’t let him,” West said fiercely as Noah turned back again and pushed the mug toward him. He normally didn’t take it black, but Noah had done enough for him already. “And neither will I. My neighbor and I are going to start protesting. I’m gonna get this shit national attention even if it kills me.”
The look on Noah’s face was the one he’d seen on Hannah’s—and everyone else who thought the plan was ridiculous. But West wasn’t about to accept some defeatist bullshit attitude lying down. He wasn’t going to ask Noah to put in more work, but if they could stop LPM from taking away the apartment building, maybe he’d back off Noah’s shop. Maybe—if he was lucky, and very, very clever—he could put a microscope on LPM and let everyone in the world see how they operated.
It wasn’t some global change, but it would change his life. And it could change Noah’s. And it meant that fewer people in St. James would suffer, and he had to let that be enough.
“You know men like Karl Larsen rarely lose, don’t you?” Noah said after a beat. “And I’m not trying to discourage you. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
West shook his head. “I know, and I’m prepared for it. But I don’t know if I could live with myself if I didn’t try. I am so sick of stories like mine—stories like yours. Good people who are just trying to get on with their lives, being kicked into the gutter by men like him. And for what, you know?” He took a breath, then offered a sheepish smile.
Noah chuckled and shook his head, laying his hand on the counter close to West’s. “Don’t be sorry. Keep that fire going, West. It’s the only way anything around here is going to get done.”
“So, you don’t think I’m a giant dumbass for wanting to take him on?” West asked softly.
Noah moved his hand until it was touching the back of his wrist. It was firm, and it was warm. It felt a lot like his dad’s, and for the second time in as many days, he desperately just wanted a fucking hug. “I don’t think you’re a dumbass. I think you’re brave. And I might not have the energy or the time to help much, but I swear, I’ll do everything I can.”
It was another start, and West realized that if he squinted hard enough, he could almost see an end.
6
Friday nights were West’s single indulgence in the week. While he should have stayed home working on homework, or going over the accountant’s notes, or finishing up the weekly requisition so he didn’t have to show up two hours early on Sunday to play catch-up, he didn’t. He went out. He—and sometimes Hannah—drove to the city, got drunk on well gin, and danced until he wanted to puke.
Sometimes he hooked up—if he was lucky enough to find someone willing to have a quick one-off in a bathroom stall. Sometimes he flirted and played carrot and stick until they inevitably asked him back to their place and he had to turn them down. That last one was self-preservation mostly, because he was soft.
He was weak.
If he went home with them, they’d ask him to stay. And if they asked him to stay—he would. Then things got complicated, and his heart started getting ideas, and that was the last thing in the world he needed.
That was how he ended up in the sinkhole he called Bennett, which left him with barely enough strength to climb out again.
West was the kind of love-at-first-sight guy, even if he knew he was being a dipshit about it. But he couldn’t say no to pouty lips and careful hands and whispered words that settled under his skin, offering him a taste of this thing he was so desperately starved for.
He had always been a romantic growing up. He wanted the whirlwind knight sweeping him off his feet and carrying him into the sunset. He wanted to be overwhelmed and overcome with how much his heart felt, knowing that he was loved back just as profoundly and fiercely.
And he was always let down.
He had a long string of very short, very ugly relationships he didn’t want to think about anymore, and when he finally did find a man who was capable of being obsessed with him, he’d known after just a few weeks that he wasn’t the right one.
It was at that point, after he left Bennett’s for the last time, that he realized he was probably fooling himself. People he knew who were in happy, comfortable relationships had crawled there. They hadn’t flung themselves off a cliff only to be caught by strong, perfect arms.
And they weren’t blissfully happy either. They were content.
Their life was easy.
And yes, he wanted that—mostly—but he wanted to feel a little more too. So, he was willing to accept that maybe that wasn’t for him, and maybe he’d be relegated to quick club bathroom blowjobs for the rest of his life.
The thought was only slightly depressing as he ordered his second gin and tonic, sucking on the lime as he did a half circle with his body, waiting to see if anyone new and interesting had shown. The crowd was surprisingly dull for a Friday night, but it was also heading into fall, which meant people were leaving summer vibes behind them.
Gone was the reckless abandon, and all that was left were the few desperate loners just like him, hoping for a fantasy that didn’t exist.
The thought made him smile. His melancholy, his ennui. If he’d met himself four years ago, past West would have kicked his ass into the ground for being such an obnoxious shit. But then again, past West would have had no idea the way life turned out—and how incredibly and strangely lonely it was.
He was about to give up, turning to the bartender to ask for his bill, when the profile of a man caught his eye. He was really tall and thin, though he didn’t have that emaciated look a lot of men his height tended to have. His shoulders were well-defined under his skintight t-shirt, and he wore jeans that looked like they’d been tailored to his body.
He would have assumed they were if he’d been in one of those nicer clubs that let celebrities in, because the guy carried himself like one. He had sunglasses pushed up into his light hair, and his brows were almost professionally sculpted. He was tapping his fingers on the edge of a dark drink, and he had a smirk playing around his full lips.
West’s heart thudded in his chest as his cock thickened behind his zipper, and he wondered if he could sell his soul to get this guy to just look over at him.
And then he did, and West only barely resisted clutching his chest. Their gazes locked, the club lights playing off the guy’s, making them look like a kaleidoscope, and then he smiled, and West lost his breath.
“Is it normally like this on Fridays?”
West mostly had to read his lips over the music, but he understood him and shook his head. “It always kind of sucks for a while near the end of summer.”
“So…this is…spot…away?”
West lost the train of the conversation, and he desperately gazed around, finding an empty booth closer to the bathrooms where the music wouldn’t be drowning them out. “Want to grab a table?” he shouted, pointing over.
The guy’s eyes followed his hand, then looked back at him, and his smile turned a little darker—predatory. Exactly what West wanted to see. He gave a single, sharp nod, then gestured ahead of him, so West led the way through the small crowd.
As the music eased, his ears began to ring a little, and he swallowed thickly to try and clear them. He felt the presence of the guy behind him as he slid into the left side, and he jolted only when the guy joined him instead of taking the seat across.
“Thought it would be easier to hear you this way,” he said, leaning in close enough that West could feel his warm breath against the side of his face. Now that the music wasn’t as intense, West could hear the deep-chested rumble of his voice. It was oddly soothing, not quite fitting for his face, but he liked it all the same.
He twisted in the seat and leaned his back against the wall, then stuck out his hand. “I’m West.”
