Clav

They say you should never cry over spilled milk, but when my vanilla latte slips from my jittery fingers and crashes onto the floor, making the plastic lid pop off as creamy tan liquid bukakkes the gray carpet of the library, the last thing I want to do is shrug it off, clean it up, and walk away with my chin held high and a satisfied smile plastered on my face like I just had the best orgasm imaginable.

Look. I'm generally a positive guy. The walk-into-a-room-and-the-sun-immediately-shines-through-the-windows type. I can find the silver lining in every situation, and everyone in this small down knows it—and fully expects it of me. So, I try to uphold that image as I bite down hard on my lower lip—hard—and accept the paper towels Hannah, the librarian, offers. Dropping to my knees, I soak up the steaming liquid that was supposed to be, you know, the one thing that went well today.

"I'm so sorry—I don't know what happened—I'm, like, such a klutz today—don't worry about it—I got it. My god, I'm so sorry." The words jumble together as they fly out of my mouth while I press the dampening towels into the carpet. There's no way in hell I'm making contact with Hannah, because she's used to the big smiles and self-deprecating humor, and she probably won't know what the fuck to do if I look up at her and she sees the hot tears building behind my black-rimmed glasses.

"It's fine, ," Hannah says, and I know by the sound of her voice that she's smiling, because who can be mad at Thorne? "This stuff happens. I'll get more towels."

"Thanks." I force out a short laugh with the word, trying hard to blink back my fucking tears as I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

Thorne doesn't cry over spilled milk.

Thorne doesn't cry period.

But this day. I swear. It couldn't get any worse unless a tornado blew through our midwestern town and took my house, my dildos, and all my precious gay monster-fucker books with it.

The autumn Friday started like any other: At the ass-crack of dawn—when no one should legally be awake. Naturally, I was late to work at the local diner. And it wasn't the first time I was late. I guess this was the last straw because the manager finally fired my ass the moment I walked through the doors.

Look. I know I can't blame everything on my ADHD, but time erasure is a real thing and I legit have no idea where that hour in the morning between when I wake up and leave for work goes. No matter how many alarms I set for everyfuckingthing I have to do that morning, I still somehow can't manage to keep track of time.

5:00 wake up

5:05 Shower

5:20 Get Dressed

5:30 Breakfast

5:45 brush teeth

5:50 TIME TO WALK OUT THE DOOR

You'd think with a ten-minute drive to work I would make it just on time like clockwork. But no.

It's not that I got fired this morning from the shitty diner—that, by the way, barely passes the state health inspections—that's pushing me over the edge today. It's the fact that this is the third job I've been fired from since I dropped out of college in the spring. Which is a whole other shit show I'd rather not talk about because, hey, I also have exam anxiety.

And now I spent a whole six dollars from my last paycheck on a vanilla latte, which was supposed to be my irresponsible pick-me-up and is instead soaked into the shitty, centuries-old library carpet like horse-cum on a porn-star.

I swear to god.

"Here, let me help you." A stranger's voice drags me back to my current shitty situation. It's like honey on toast, that voice. Somewhere between smooth and rough, like the place where the flowing ocean waves meet the gritty sand. I sit back on my haunches, daring to look past my threatening tears at the field of green eyes peering down at me.

Oh. Holy. Night.

The cutest, most adorable man I have ever laid eyes on kneels across the mess from me with paper towels already in hand, and I can't help but notice the way the muscles beneath his tanned forearms ripple as he dabs the liquid from the carpet. He has a mop of dirty-blond hair, and his face is flawlessly smooth as butter. He wears black skinny jeans and a tight-fitting black t-shirt. And, god, those full lips could put Chris Pine to shame. A metal pin of the trans flag is attached to the strap of his brown satchel.

Yeah, he's definitely not from Bone Hollow. I wouldn't forget a sex god like him in a small town like this.

"Th-thanks," I muster, attempting to wipe my jaw off the floor along with the coffee.

His eyes meet mine for the first time, and he stills, just for a moment, before blinking rapidly and grabbing another handful of paper towels. Clearing my throat, I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose while I help him clean. Why am I so sweaty all of the sudden?

"I can't tell you how many times I've spilled my drink," he says with a low chuckle. Oh shit, even his voice oozes Xanax. "At least this happened in the library with hardly any audience. I was doing a show at a pub one time and knocked my beer off the stool. Amber liquid everywhere. Wires, speakers, mics. It was a mess, and I hadn't even performed my first song yet."

"You're in a band?" Just when I thought he couldn't get any more attractive. I know my heart is going to get broken by this dude and I've only knowing for thirty seconds.

He shrugs as he dabs the carpet. "I travel around and play the fiddle. Mostly solo. But yeah. I'm a musician."

We clean up the rest of the mess together, using the paper towels Hannah brings until she finally ushers us off.

"I'll use the carpet shampoo-er to clean the rest up later," she assures me, a bright smile on her face.

"Thanks for helping, Hannah," I say as I stand. "I owe you."

"Just keep coming back," she offers me a wink before striding off.

The man snorts and stands to his feet, carding his fingers through his shaggy hair as a half-smile crosses his features, complete with a fucking adorable dimple. Holy hell. He looks a little older than my twenty-three years, but not by much. He has a medium build, and is several inches shorter than my five-foot-ten.

"Got yourself a secret admirer, huh?" he asks, green eyes shining.

A chuckle erupts out of me as I stand. "Not so secret. Too bad I'm gay." I inwardly cringe. Was that too forward? His striking appearance has me all tongue-tied, and I can't even remember what I came to the library for. I mean, he looks like a book boyfriend who stepped right out of a romance novel. You'd half-expect to find a wiry nerd like myself haunting the library at nine AM, not a male model. I think I've gone way too long without a good fucking if I can get a hard-on this quickly with someone I just met.

I shift awkwardly, casting a quick glance at him to get a read on him, but he doesn't seem put off at all. That half-smile deepens, and I legit might be having a stroke right now.

"Anyway, thanks for helping," I say, casually sliding my hands into my pockets. "You didn't have to…clean my mess."

"No worries." He doesn't make a move to leave, thank god, because there's something about him that completely sets me at ease…and threatens to give me a major boner. I look at the stack of books he swipes from the table, recognizing half of them as the gay monster romances I've read and re-read.

Oh shit. I'm a goner now.

"You are going to so love those," I say, then wince. What am I doing, admitting that I read gay romances? Featuring monsters, no less? But he only offers a brilliant, shameless smile as he admires his book haul, long lashes fanning those tanned cheekbones. God, he's gorgeous.

"Yeah, I read some of her other books," he says, studying the stack. "I'm in the area for a while so this should keep me busy."

"How long are you here for?" I try not to sound overly desperate.

That beautiful smile broadens across his perfect features, making my heart do that swooping thing. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me right now? I must have major blue balls because I rarely fall this hard this fast. But as I study his lips, I can't help but wonder what those full, masculine lips would look like wrapped around my cock, those shamrock-green eyes peering up at me.

Fuck.

"The weekend."

I blink and force my eyes from his mouth to his steady gaze, which, by the way, is filled with some sort of humor, as if he knew what I was thinking just now. My cheeks burn, and I can't hide my flinch as I run my fingers through my pink hair, shaved on the sides and slightly longer at the top.

I look at his whole stack of books. "Just the weekend, huh?" I chuckle. "You planning on reading all those over the weekend?" He's got, like, six books there. I mean, I'm a fast reader, but not six-books-in-a-weekend reader.

He flinches and looks at his bookstack. "Gotta have backups in case the first ones don't grab you, y'know?"

Sure, sure. Whatever. He's apparently a quit-if-the-first-page-doesn't-grab-you type. Huge red flag there, so I should definitely probably let this one go. "Well, thanks for the help…?"

"Aden."

I smile. "Aden. I'm ." I hold out my free hand, and he clasps it in a firm handshake. His hand is warm and strong, and just the touch sends a shudder through me. Straight to my cock.

"You know, you look kind of familiar, ," he says, releasing my hand to readjust his book-haul.

My mouth twitches into a smile. I'm pretty standard, to be honest. Your typical wiry college drop-out, wearing black rimmed glasses, skinny jeans, and a graphic T. But my pink hair makes me stand out a little more in a small town like this.

"You see a lot of guys with pink hair?" I ask, cocking a flirtatious brow. What Aden doesn't know is that my hair is naturally white. Like, grandma-just-got-a-perm white. So, I dyed it pink, you know, to look less like a grandma. And it's my favorite color. But in a town this size in rural Indiana, I get a lot of stares, like how Aden is staring at me now.

"No, I guess not." He shrugs. "But your eyes…did you grow up here?"

My eyes. Gray as storm clouds, though they almost look silver when they catch the light.

"Born and raised," I say, then jerk my chin at him. "What about you? What brings you to Bone Hollow?"

I think I see him flinch before he turns and makes his way to the checkout counter. "I'm…uh…just passing through."

I snort and trot up beside him. "Passing through? Bone Hollow, Indiana is hardly a town to pass through on." Built on a small county-line road, you literally have to drive fifteen minutes off the main road to get here.

His back turns rigid, as if he's been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't be doing. He pinches his lower lip between his teeth and glances out the window. Sensing the awkward silence, thanks to my intrusive question, I try to flash my own adorable grin that makes Hannah blush, but it only seems to pile onto the awkwardness with Aden.

"I know why you're here," I say, narrowing my eyes.

His jaw tenses, and he stands a little straighter as if bracing himself for a fight. "Y-you do?" His eyes are guarded now, the knot in his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. And he actually takes a step back, as if he were…afraid of me?

"You're here for the Renaissance faire, aren't you?"

He releases a breath that kind of turns into a nervous laugh. "Y—yeah. Yeah. That's it. I'm totally here for the, um, faire."

"No need to be embarrassed, Aden." I huff and nudge his elbow with mine as we make our way down the hall. "It's one of my favorite parts about living in Bone Hollow."

His cheeks grow pink with my flirtatious nudge, and I desperately hope I'm not being too forward.

He says, "I'm staying at the Bone Bed & Breakfast Inn down the road."

A laugh erupts out of me. "I love the owners of that place, but they really couldn't have picked a better name, could they? It sounds like the name of some porn studio."

He bites back his own smile. "Yeah, after they're done filming you eating sausage, you get to eat more sausage with your waffles."

"Oh shit, Aden." Laughter bubbles out of me. "I think they need you on their vision team."

I follow him to the checkout and greet the older librarian, Lucy, as she scans his first book, and I realize I totally forgot to grab a book. I was too busy mooning over this eye-candy, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let him go just so I could scan the shelves of books I've already scoured five-million times.

"Jurassic Park, huh?" Aden asks, looking at my t-shirt with the JP logo of a t-rex skull on the front.

"Hell yeah. Best movie ever made. And the book is even better." A crisp autumn breeze greets us when we step outside, bringing with it the sharp smell of rotting leaves and decay.

He cocks a brow. "I'm not sure I've ever met a Jurassic Park fan who also read the book."

"Those of us who read the book are a whole other breed of fans." I stick out my arm, where a tattoo of a velociraptor skeleton, like the one featured at the beginning of the movie, is tattooed on my forearm. "You'll also typically find us permanently printed with dinosaurs."

Grabbing my wrist, he inspects the tattoo. "That's sick, ."

My cheeks heat at the gentle touch of his long fingers pressed into my skin. His hands are firm and warm against the autumn chill, and I get this strange urge to slide my hand up so our fingers link together. Somehow, I'm able to control myself as he releases me while we cross the street. Clearing my throat, I casually shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose, then drag my hand across the back of my neck.

"So, uh, what do you do?" Aden asks as we step onto the sidewalk.

Ugh. The dreaded question. "I'm taking a break from college and living with my parents for now, just outside town, until I figure shit out."

His eyes widen. "Your parents?"

God, this is embarrassing. What twenty-three-year-old still lives with their parents? A college drop-out, that's who. But he doesn't need to know that.

"It's…it's a long story." I release a nervous laugh. "I'm hoping to move out soon though."

"Oh. Oh. No, I don't think it's weird that you're living with them."

"It's…weird."

"No, it's just, I didn't know you had two parents."

My brows pinch together. "How could you?" I chuckle. "We just met."

"I mean—" He's the one struggling now, which is strange. This hot guy is way out of my league, and seems to be intimidated by me. "Most people our age have divorced parents. It's cool that you're living with both of them."

"Yeah, well, my dad isn't my birth dad. My mom was single when she had me cuz my bio dad was an asshole who fucked right off. Rick kind of took us under his wing." I shrug and kick a pebble into the road. "He might as well be my birth dad, the way he raised me."

"That's sweet." Aden's lips curve into a tender smile that makes my heart spin. His eyes seem to brighten with his smile, making them look like sun-kissed clover fields. It's been forever since a guy made me feel this way. A couple years, at least. And I realize, I can't let this one slip away. So, when we're about to part ways at the parking lot, I turn to him, my lower lip pinched between my teeth. Here goes nothing.

"I go to the faire every year." I scratch my temple with my knuckle. "Do you want to…meet up?"

Who am I right now? I am never this forward. There's no way in fucking hell this guy is going to—

"Absolutely. Seven?"

Holy fuck. "Yes—um, sure. Seven works great."

I can see the laughter in his eyes at my over-enthusiasm-turned-attempted-casual. "I'll meet you there, then, ." With that, he spins on his heels and walks down the sidewalk toward the Bone Bed & Breakfast Inn.

Warmth floods through me as I watch him walk away. At least one good thing came out of today. I'm a huge believer in fate, and maybe I'm getting way ahead of myself, but what if I got fired from that job, grabbed a latte, and came to the library only to spill that latte—so I could meet Aden?

Get a grip, . He's leaving after this weekend, and I doubt a long-term relationship would work between two people who met for two days. He's probably not even into that. He's probably already got a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. But he did agree to meet up tonight, and I'm not one to miss out on a once-in-a-life-time opportunity of hanging out with the most adorable boy on earth at the Ren Faire.