Tied to Trouble(42)

Grant shook his head. “Just that brain of yours. Look, I want a more technical guy with me who knows the ins and outs of production of Gamers. The stats. Who’s been in the trenches of the magazine and cares about its success. That’s you, buddy.”

Owen made a note to go over the subscription numbers. Maybe he’d make a couple of graphs on his phone. Damn, he was a nerd. “I can handle that.”

Grant clapped him on the shoulder. “I made reservations for you, me, and three employees of Esher at Catalina’s Saturday night. We’ll have dinner, drinks, and keep them entertained. Okay?”

Owen tugged at the edges of his bow tie and blew out a breath. Was it getting hot in the office? “That sounds great.”

Grant smiled at him. “Hey, I talked to Marley about you, and I realize this isn’t really your thing. But I think it could be your thing. Do you understand what I’m saying? You have it in you, Owen. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think so.”

Were his nerves showing that badly that everyone around him thought he needed a pep talk? Regardless, he appreciated it. Gamers was his dream job not only because of the work, but because the people around him were amazing people. He looked Grant in the eye and straightened his spine. “I appreciate you saying that, and for giving me this chance to step up. It makes me feel like an important part of the company.”

Grant straightened from the desk and knocked on it with two knuckles. “You are, Owen. You are.”

As Grant walked away, Owen worked on his breathing so he didn’t pass out, then turned back to his computer. He was thinking of sticking his head in the break room freezer when his phone rang. It was probably Marley calling from out of town to give him a hard time. He picked up the phone. “Copy desk, this is Owen.”

There was a pause. “Chad’s couch, this is Chad.”

Owen’s gaze immediately dropped to his desk so he could hide his smile from his coworkers. “Hey, you.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Working.”

Chad made a sound, like he was stretching. “So boring.”

“And you’re calling because…”

“I can’t call to say hi?”

“Chad, I’m working. I can’t really just chitchat.”

“Aw, bummer.”

Owen wished he was there with Chad. He hadn’t seen him since the afternoon Chad was called into work. It was now Friday, and he wondered when the hell he’d get to see him again. “What’s your work schedule like this weekend?”

“I work tonight and tomorrow night.”

Owen chewed his lip. “I have a work dinner tomorrow night, but maybe we can hang out after your shift?”

A long pause. “Uh, I’m sorry, I work really late that night. I have to help close. What about Sunday?”

“If you work late, are you sure you’re going to want to hang out Sunday?”

“You’re killing me, O. I wanna see you.”

Owen closed his eyes and swallowed, the bow tie around his throat a welcome pressure. “Okay, Sunday then. Want to call me when you wake up?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, and, uh, don’t get weird, but I was looking around and printed out some scholarship applications for you. And other information about William Penn and programs they offer for second-time students.”

Chad didn’t say anything for some time, and Owen worried he’d overstepped the boundary. But what even was the boundary between them? Owen wasn’t sure there’d ever been anything defined, and by now, what line had been there was washed away.

When Chad spoke again, his voice was soft. “Okay, thanks.”

“I’m assuming you have to fund this. I did speak to my friend who is a professor there—”

“Seriously, O?” Chad’s voice was more curt now, and Owen clamped his lips shut. Shit, he’d gone too far. His friend had called him about something else, and Owen had blurted out that he had a friend looking to attend. He hadn’t meant to, really, but it’d happened. He wanted to help Chad. He wanted to make himself useful so Chad had reason to keep him around. And if Chad went to school, started a steady job, maybe Owen wouldn’t look so goddamn boring. Maybe they could actually have a future together.

“I’m sorry, I—” Owen fidgeted. “Okay, I’ll back off.”

“I’m a big boy,” Chad muttered.

“I know.”

“I can handle my own affairs. I have an apartment and a job, and I even wipe my own ass.”

Owen smiled in spite of Chad’s bitter words. “You’re practically an adult.”

“Damn right.” Owen heard the smile in Chad’s voice.