Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

Gray shot a curious glance at Charlie and rolled his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Yes. Some kind of strange coincidence.”

Charlie opened his mouth in a comical O and cast a wide-eyed look between us. “You know each other? Well, this is crazy. Just nuts. I’ll let you two catch up while I—”

“Not so fast.” Gray grabbed Charlie’s elbow before he could escape. “What’s going on?”

“You need someone to organize those records, and Justin is the perfect candidate. He’s friendly, organized, bilingual…and he knows the alphabet!” Charlie’s bright grin dulled when Gray didn’t respond. “The bilingual part will come in handy with all those Brazilian albums.”

“Except I don’t speak Portuguese,” I interjected. “And to be honest, I’m only sporadically friendly and never organized.”

“He has a great sense of humor,” Charlie assured Gray with a nervous laugh. “But you probably already know that.”

“I remember.” Gray held my gaze intently.

I was instantly transported in time to that night, chatting about everything and nothing at all with a handsome stranger, high above the lights of LA. The latent romantic in me wanted to claim this was fate…like we were supposed to meet again. Maybe we were even supposed to mean something to each other. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the idea appealed to me on some level.

Gray Robertson was the stuff of modern fairytales. He lived in a castle on a hill and played guitar shirtless on his roof in the middle of the day. Normal people were at work now and—oh, right…music was his work. He wrote commercial jingles. I couldn’t decide if I should google him first to find out more or if I should just start running because none of this seemed real. When I needed fantasy, I played video games and watched porn. And yeah, lately I jerked off to the memory of what we did in that bathroom. But our one-night stand didn’t give me any special rights here. In fact, in a weird way, it made me feel more uncomfortable. I didn’t belong here.

“Me too,” I said, pushing aside my growing anxiety. “So you’re Gray Robertson.”

“I am. And you’re Justin…”

“Cuevas. Did you summon me or something?”

“No.” Gray let go of Charlie’s elbow, then lifted his forefinger in a silent command for him to stay put in an authoritative manner. Charlie frowned but didn’t move.

I glanced between them before refocusing on Gray. Well, on his tattoos this time. I didn’t realize he had so many. The dragon’s tail wrapped around his side below script that was too small to read at a distance and a set of Roman numerals. I suddenly wished I’d paid better attention to shit like that in school. M equals one thousand, right? I had no fucking clue. But I wanted to know. In fact, I wanted to know everything about him. Not just his favorite ice cream. I wanted to know his birthday, where he was from, and if he watched Game of Thrones. Important stuff.

But I wasn’t supposed to know him or even see him again. So what the hell was going on here?

“So this is just a crazy coincidence?” I asked dubiously.

“Or the stars have aligned! You need a job and Gray needs help.” Charlie danced out of Gray’s reach and gave me a look I couldn’t read without serious help before hiking his thumb toward the house meaningfully. “I have to print out an assignment before I head to class. I’m sure Gray won’t mind giving you a tour of the library. Text me if you have any questions. See you later.”

“Hold on a second,” Gray said.

“No can do. Gotta run!” Charlie pivoted on his red loafers and hurried for the house before either of us could respond.

Gray let out a rush of air and raked his hand through his hair in frustration. Then he pulled his guitar strap over his head and pushed his instrument behind his back. I noticed a fresh set of details at once. Weird things like his muscular calves, his trim waist, the smattering of hair on his broad, sun-kissed chest, and the rip in his ancient Vans.

“Okay. This is…odd. Just so we’re clear, I don’t know what’s going on. But it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he replied softly.

I stuffed my hands into my back pockets and looked around the sprawling yard and the LA skyline beyond the low hedge. “Nice place. I bet this view rivals the one at the Skybar at night.”

“Yeah, it does.”

He smelled like sunshine and mint. The combination seemed extraordinarily appealing. I fought the urge to lean in and lick his bare shoulder when he stepped closer. It would have been a bad move. We weren’t strangers flirting over gin and tonics in the dark now. We were fully exposed. Sunlight reflected off the pool and the second story windows. It revealed more than his hot dad bod and ink. It revealed our differences. Our ages, experiences, and our places in life. Gray was obviously successful and accomplished. And I was obviously not.