Angel in a Book Shop

The door opened and he glanced up, blinking into the light spilling in from outside.

“We’re not open,” he said, attempting to focus on whoever had moved into the space. Some tourist seeing lights and thinking that the Closed sign actually meant “come on in and browse”.

“Hi,” a decidedly posh voice said. The owner of said voice stepped forward into the gloom of the interior and pulled the door shut behind him. He then tripped over the still heaped-up post, before righting himself with a wry look at the pile.

Josh noticed two things as he blurted an apology for the mess on the floor. The man was big, tall and broad, and he had a takeaway coffee in each hand which he hadn’t dropped on the floor when he stumbled. Josh had the random thought that he hoped one of those was for him.

Then he caught himself wishing for things that weren’t going to happen and stopped with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” he repeated.

The man moved closer and held out a coffee. “I know. I’m Michael. I have the shop next door, saw you go in, thought you’d like coffee.”

As he drew closer, Josh had a proper look at the man who proclaimed himself a neighbour. Tall—well, Josh had that much from the way he’d filled the doorway. Michael’s hair was near ebony black and would have looked stupid on someone as pale as Josh. On this man, with his warmer skin tones and dark eyes, it looked just this side of dangerous to Josh’s libido. Josh stood immediately, took the cup with his left hand, and extended his right.

“Josh Blakeman,” he introduced himself.

Michael shook Josh’s hand warmly. “I was so sorry to hear about your loss,” he said. The familiar words meant nothing. Josh had heard them a million times, repeated by everyone from his work colleagues to the barman at the King’s Head. Everyone felt it was what needed to be said. Josh had yet to work out, even after ten months, exactly what to say in return. Instead he sat back down on the stool and took off the lid of the coffee cup.

“You knew my dad?” Josh asked. He expected the usual pleasantries, but there were none from this man who filled the empty shop with his quiet presence. Josh coughed to cover the odd silence, suddenly worried as to why this man was still standing there with his face carefully blank of emotion. What did he want? He had cheekbones to die for, and…wait…hello dimples.

A spur of want poked insistently at Josh’s subconscious. It had been a long time since he had felt anything for another man. He’d found out his ex had been screwing him over way before Josh had ended up in the hospital, and that had been a few months back now.

Michael didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with the silence. He pulled out a selection of sugar packets and a stirrer from a pocket. “Just in case,” he said as he placed everything on the already muddled desk. “I gave you coffee, but this one is tea if you’d prefer that.”