Just Friends?

Ian arrived for his weekend visit an hour after Flygande opened. He entered through the heavy door and blinked hard, adjusting to the dim light.

“Are you sure?” said a familiar young man’s voice, and he spotted his cousin, Fin, talking to none other than Claire. “You don’t want to just give me your address? Danny said I needed to make sure it was stored properly on your property.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled, pointing out a small road on his phone map. “Here, under the lean-to, is fine, thank you.”

Fin shrugged and turned, nearly running Ian over. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

“The sky, the clouds, this roof.”

“That joke was never funny, even from Grandad.”

Ian smirked and shooed him off with a jerk of his head. “Do a good job. Make the McClellans proud.”

“I wouldn’t dream of disgracing our name with a firewood delivery.”

“Wiseass.” Ian smacked the back of his head and smiled down at Claire. “You had fika at last, I see.”

“There’s still some left if you’re hungry.”

“Always.” He turned a chair, straddling it backward, and took a spoonful of kladdkaker. “Mmff-avorite.”

“I don’t speak chocolate cake.” She grinned and tucked her journal away.

Ian used his tongue to dislodge the moist crumbles from the roof of his mouth. “You leaving? I just got here.”

“Afraid so.” She glanced around as more bodies started piling through the door. “I’m not so great with people. Or rather, some people are not so great with me.”

“Nonsense. You’re amazing. Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

She dropped her chin, hiding a small smile. “Thank you for that, but I meant if they know who I am, they may cause a riot in here.”

Ian shoved the buttery cheese into his mouth. “Now I’m intrigued. Do tell.”

She paused and gave him a thoughtful look. “You know what? I don’t think I will. I’m kind of liking this not-being-known thing.”

Ian smiled and pointed to an uneaten cinnamon roll. She nodded.

“You shouldn’t get used to being unknown,” he said. “Most people live here because they value their privacy, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be curious about someone who’s hanging around for a while.” He lifted an eyebrow, wondering if she caught his non-question, question. She didn’t answer so he asked outright. “Are you staying for a while?”

“Three months. At least.”

“Then it’s best to nip their curiosity in the bud. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Oh, um.” Her lips vibrated as she blew out. “Not really. Why?”

“You should come back. Not to write, but to have fun and meet some locals. I promise they’re worth meeting and won’t mob you.”

She looked around again. “I-I don’t know about that.”

He reached out and patted her hand. “No pressure. Just giving you an open invite to meet some of my favorite people if you want. Maybe they’ll even inspire whatever you’re writing.”

“You do make a tempting case, Mr. McClellan.”

“I am hard to resist.” He grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

“How about we’ll see.”

“I’ll take it.”

She closed her clutch with a snap and that’s when Ian noticed the double cups, double plates, double pastries, double everything.

“Did Danny have fika with you?”

She smiled with a nod and waved as she went for the door. He couldn’t help but wonder if the extra color on her cheeks was because of the fire or Danny. Stuffing the cinnamon roll between his teeth, he gathered the tray to take to the kitchen.

“Where’s Danny?” he asked Kevin.

He shrugged. “Last I saw, he was talking to some hot chick.”

Ian set down the tray with a clang. “You can call her a woman. You can even call her a beautiful woman. Never hot chick. Don’t let me hear you say such a dumbass thing again.”

“You got it, boss.” He saluted with a mocking smirk. He was seventeen, so that was a wasted conversation.

Ian whistled a cheery tune and made his way to the bar, checking glasses and liquor stock. He peeked into Danny’s empty office and headed down to the cellar where the kegs were stored. Still no Danny.

He hopped two steps at a time to Danny’s apartment and knocked. No answer came, so he opened the door. “Oi, Danny?”

“Living room.”

Through the French doors of the living room, Ian spotted him, book in hand. He’d hoped to see him smiling.

Danny wasn’t smiling.

“You’re never up here after you open,” Ian said.

“I was checking something.” Danny put the book away. The dictionary, to be exact. He was reading the dictionary?

“Saw Claire and I—”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “I was only going to say I saw her. But now it looks like we’re going to talk about it.”

Danny shook his head and walked to the wall-lined bookshelves, mindlessly scanning the old spines. He pulled out a thesaurus.

Ian rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He shoved the book back into place. “Let it go.”

Like hell he would. “My cousin is getting ready to deliver firewood. I thought you did that.”

He swung toward him. “She didn’t want me near her house, alright? Me.” He jammed a finger into his chest. “Anybody but me.”

“That’s not true.”

Danny held up both hands. “Ian, don’t give me anymore bullshit. I’m sick to death of bullshit messing with my goddamn head.”

“Danny?”

“What?”

“Finlay isn’t taking it to her house.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes bulged. “I specifically told him—”

Ian held up a finger and Danny stopped. “He knows and told her that, but she didn’t want him to bring it to her house. Asked him to drop it off in some area—” He paused, thinking about the familiarity of the location he saw but wasn’t close enough to see the name of the road.

“Well?”

He shook the thought away. “To leave it under a shelter off a road, not her house. She asked Gene to do the same thing when he delivered groceries. It’s not just you, bràthair.”

Danny’s shoulders drooped with a heavy exhale. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t she want anyone at her house? She’s renting.”

“She seems to be a pretty private person. Told me if people knew who she was, she’d be mobbed.”

Danny plopped on the couch with a long sigh. “Well, I can think of one person who’d mob her if he knew who she was.”

Ian joined him on the other end of the couch and stretched his legs on the coffee table. “Who’s that?”

“You.”

“Me?” Ian laughed. “I know her and I’m not freaking out.”

“What’s your favorite novel?”

“Ghost Crossing. You know that. Takes place a few miles from where my ancestors are from.”

“By M. C. C., right?”

“Yep.” He entwined his fingers behind his head, unsure of why Danny brought that up. “The man is a horror-writing genius.”

A slow smirk rode up Danny’s cheek. “Did you ever look up a picture of him?”

“Are you kidding? I’m part of his fan club. The true fan club that took a vow to never dig into his identity.”

Danny snickered and Ian glared. “Laugh all you want, but after signing our ‘vow,’ we get exclusives and sneak peeks for his upcoming work. He’s got a new one coming out next year. Untitled, but we’re going to get a chance to vote on it. Plus, we’re the first to know when he makes a rare appearance at a comic-con so we’re the first to get tickets. Obviously, he never attends in person, but he does an over-the-phone live QA with his fans using this crazy-ass voice distorter.”

Danny grinned wider and Ian got nervous.

“I’m sure if you looked him up, you’d get a hell of a surprise.”

Ian dropped his feet with a thud. “What does any of this have to do with Claire?”

“Madelynn Claire,” Danny reminded him. “From the old-money family of Cooke.”

Ian’s mind blanked for a solid minute as he gulped air like a guppy. “Sweet mother of God,” he breathed out. “Are you shitting me? Don’t shit me, Danny. He’s a she?” His voice rose an octave. “And she was sitting across from me a minute ago?” He couldn’t feel his face. His palms squished his cheeks so hard he had fish-lips. “Danny?”

Danny leaned forward, shoulders shaking. “My God, man, you should see your face.”

Ian continued to freak out in girl-pitch-level shrieks, and Danny fell to the side of the couch, rumbling with laughter.

“I can’t—” Ian jumped up and paced, still holding his face. “How can she ... wait ... does she know who I am? No. How could she know. Oh, sweet Jesus. He’s a she and she’s here. In Solsken.”

Danny wiped his eyes and tried to sit up, but fell back down when Ian shrieked again.

“I’ve always wanted to meet him ... er her.” Ian managed to lower his voice half an octave but continued to pace. “That last QA I went to was the longest conversation I’ve ever had with her. D-Do you think ... ” He stopped short and faced Danny. “Do you think I’ll sound stupid if I tell her how her first novel saved me?”

Danny managed some composure and sat up. “I think she’d love it. Just don’t scream again.”

“You’re right.” Ian wheezed one more deep breath and finally regained some control. “Freaking M.C.C. I wonder if that’s why she hesitated when I asked her out tonight.”

Danny’s laughter abruptly stopped. “You asked her out?”

Ian gave him his best are you kidding me? face, but inside he was smiling. The little green monster was a good sign. He pointed to his own chest. “Priest, remember? I asked her out here tonight for a chance to get to know the residents. You know, before they start getting curious about the new person who’s hanging out in Solsken for three months.”

“Three months,” Danny repeated, staring straight ahead. “She’s staying for three months?”

“Yes, at least. Plenty of time for more fikas.”

“Don’t start.”

“Danny.” Ian sat back down. “You literally grabbed the first book you saw when I came up here and it was a dictionary. Just to avoid talking about her.”

He opened his mouth and closed it—opened—closed. He had nothing and rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. She’s gorgeous.”

“I don’t need a rebound.”

“That’s what you think this is?”

He looked him in the eye. “What else could it be? It’s too soon.”

“Did Claire hit on you?”

“No.”

“Did you hit on her?”

“Ian,” he said with warning.

“Point is, if one or both of you was trying to rush into a relationship, I’d agree with you, but you, and it seems she, are trying to avoid one. Which can only mean one thing.”

Danny stared, waiting.

“You both like each other for real. Not a rebound.”

He blinked. Blinked again, and again, then turned away. “But I can’t do another relationship right now.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? At least not a romantic one. I’ve already told you, I’m not pushing you. But it kind of seems you guys like hanging out together. What’s the harm in being friends?”

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends. She’s not pressing for more and you’re not pressing for more.” Ian shrugged. “So, friends.”

“But—” Danny rubbed his brow and side-glanced at him like he wanted to argue something.

“There’s no ‘but,’ just friends. Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”

Danny shook his head and picked at a piece of dirt on the edge of the coffee table. “I think I can do friends.”