Chapter Text
His mother got him this tie. It was a gift for his birthday last year, and Joe loves it. So, it's just as well that tonight's date never showed up because this tie is too good for him.
Nothing about Nicolò's messages had prepared Joe for this. The guy had been charming and funny. He'd been devastatingly gorgeous—those eyes will haunt Joe's dreams for a while—but never vain. Most of all, in an app where Joe had seen some appalling behavior, Nicolò had been respectful and kind. All of which explains why Joe would be willing to meet him here, at a restaurant they ostensibly both love, for dinner. It does NOT explain why Joe is still sitting here, alone, long after his date was supposed to show up, trying to fold his napkin into a swan just to stave off boredom.
The flowers are sagging, the bread has gotten hard, and the ice under the butter has melted. It's a little too on-the-nose for Joe, but at least the environment seems to sympathize with him.
"Another couple of minutes?" Jeanine asks.
Jeanine is the server assigned to this section for the night. She's twenty-three, working to pay for grad school in the fall, and her favorite little-known poetic verse form is the sestina. Joe's learned so much about her because he's been here, with his metaphorical thumb up his ass, for long enough that they've had a chance to get acquainted.
Frankly, if Joe had the slightest interest in women, and it wouldn't be creepy as hell, he'd have asked her out twenty minutes ago, and they'd already be gone.
He checks his phone; a second text has gone unanswered and unread—time to cut his losses.
"No, I think we should stick a fork in this one. It's done."
"Cute. Food references. Because I work here."
"I try."
"You're lucky I'm not into guys, Joe."
"Jeanine, you've dashed all my hopes and dreams." She snorts, and he can't help but laugh. It's the first one he's had all night. He orders dessert to-go. Partly to soothe his wounded pride and partly to keep her from getting in trouble for letting him sit here this long and not order anything but tea.
She squeezes his arm as she hands him his cheesecake. "Hang in there. You're a good guy, and somewhere out there is a guy who will appreciate you like you deserve."
He claps his right hand over his chest as dramatically as possible. "I hope so since you're breaking my heart."
Grinning, she rolls her eyes and waves goodbye. There's just enough speed in his stride to get him out the door before she finds out how big a cash tip he left.
On the street, he checks his phone again. The messages still haven't been read. It wouldn't sting so much if it weren't the third time this month. Either they never show, like tonight's Prince Charming, or he only gets one date with them before they ghost him entirely.
As he's walking to his train, he goes into the app and blocks all the recent no-shows, including tonight's. While he's at it, he deletes the contacts for those he's texted or spoken to outside the app. Not that they were making any effort to reach out to him, but he decides it's the principle of the thing. If they don't have time for him, he doesn't have time for them. No point in leaving the door open. Not even for someone with a voice like Nicolò's.
If the powers that be intend for Joe to have a beautiful, funny Italian with gorgeous eyes, they can damn well send one who knows how to answer a text message.
Joe: Why does this keep happening to me?
Nile: Oh no.
Joe: I'm a catch, Nile. I hold the door open. I pay attention when they talk. I reciprocate oral.
Nile: All of which is in your profile.
Joe: You think it shouldn't be?
Nile: We can talk about that later. What happened tonight?
Joe: Well, I met a lovely girl who's a server at The Amber Forge. We talked about poetry.
Nile: I thought you were going there to meet a guy.
Joe: SO DID I
Nile: Did you at least order food?
Joe: I got dessert.
He sends her a picture of the box.
Nile: Well, at least that is going for you. Damn, Joe. I'm sorry about tonight. You deserve better.
Joe: It's hard not to get discouraged.
Nile: Keep reminding yourself that even being alone is better than being with Tim.
Joe flicks through the emoji library, looking for the perfect one, and finally settles on the one that looks like it's about to throw up.
Nile: Do you want me to come over?
Joe: No, stay home in your slippers and enjoy the evening. I'll come by tomorrow, and you can help me forget my sorrows.
She sends him three hearts. Because he's Joe, and he can manage to be competitive about anything , he replies with four.
Tomorrow he will drag Nile to one of the museums he's had on his "to visit" list, the one they've been working through methodically. They'll get a greasy takeaway from somewhere and talk about what things in the exhibit they'd have done differently. It's not romance, nor is it finding happily-ever-after with a hot Italian, but all things considered, it's not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
"I'm sorry, what?" Nicky can't tell if Andy is using her incredulous voice to placate him or if she's genuinely incensed.
"I said he never showed. He sent a couple of texts asking me where I was, but he didn't try calling. At first, I wasn't checking my phone because I wanted to be able to focus on my date. After that, I guess I accidentally left it on do-not-disturb. When I saw the messages and tried to answer, he'd blocked me already."
"Did you try him in the app?"
"I did. Either he's blocked me there, too, or he's deleted his profile because there's no trace of him I can find."
"Damn, Nicky. You can sure pick 'em."
"I thought this one was different." Nicky sighs, scooping up the tiny shredded bits of paper from Andy's notepad and putting them into the recycling bin. Absentmindedly, he reaches for another sheet and starts tearing off the corners. He looks up to see Andy watching his hands.
"I'll buy you another one."
"I'm not worried about the notepad, Nicky. I'm worried about you."
"I could see in his texts that he was upset, and I never even got to apologize for missing them or figure out what happened. I hate thinking he is out there believing I'm the bad guy." He sighs. "But then I think, why didn't he show up? He left me sitting there alone and then got angry with me. Why?"
"I think if all that is true, it's probably best that he didn't show up."
Nicky nods as though he agrees, but inside, he thinks nothing adds up. Yusuf had seemed so excited about their date. After dating far too many businessmen who wanted to talk about corporate politics and annual reports, Nicky had thought that finally, here was a man who wouldn't make him feel like he had to hide his love for art and literature. He'd dreamed of someone with a quick wit and a clever mind, and Yusuf had plenty of both. Everything seemed to be clicking into place.
Had Yusuf been devastatingly attractive? Look, Nicky's not going to pretend he didn't fantasize about biting that spot just above Yusuf's collar bone. That would just be lying. The way his eyes danced, even in a grainy picture, the furrow each dimple carved in his cheeks, they'd all had starring roles in Nicky's schoolboy crush-like daydreams. They'd shown up in the less wholesome dreams, too. The ones where Nicky kissed that smile until Yusuf sagged into his embrace.
The two of them had even suggested the same restaurant without discussing it first. It had felt like destiny.
No chance of that now, though. Nicky is trying very hard not to be bitter, and thanks to Andy, he just might make it.
"So you started the night thinking you were going to get to have a really good steak and meet a really cute guy, and instead you got Prince Overreaction and—" she ponders for a second, "—I'm guessing takeaway you ate out of the container while standing over the sink so you wouldn't have to do any more dishes."
"No."
She arches an eyebrow.
"I sat down at the table. And I got the chilled calamari, so at least I got part of my favorite meal."
She bumps her shoulder against his. "Listen, let's get you out of the house for something that isn't a date. Just hanging out with people you like and laughing a bit."
"Andy—"
"We're meeting up with some of Quynh's coworkers next weekend. They all decided they wanted to try an escape room; Quynh is dragging me along, and now I'm dragging you."
"This isn't some clever plan to fix me up with some single guy from your wife's department, is it?"
"I don't even know if either of these guys is single or into men."
He looks up at her, meeting her smile. "You're a terrible liar." She does him the courtesy of not arguing that point. "As long as you two promise not to push, I'd love to come. You know how I am with puzzles."
"In that, I've learned not to try doing the crossword until you're finished with it unless I want a pen through the back of my hand? Yes, I do know."
"It was one time, Andy. I was just getting to the long clues, and the pen didn't even touch you. Besides, as I said at the time, it's not my fault. My grandfather is the one who taught me to love problem-solving and word puzzles. He's the reason I love crosswords and anagrams."
"I remember. He set up scavenger hunts for your birthdays, and the riddles got harder every year." A wave of sentiment rushes into Nicky's heart. It's the memory of his grandfather, sure, but also the fact that she remembered. He leans his head on her shoulder as she says, "I love you, Nicolò. I'll send you the address; the reservation is for noon."
"I'll go. But next week, you're buying lunch."
"Sure. We can go to The Amber Forge."
"You are a terrible friend."
She sighs as if that will cover her grin. "Sad but true."
"Hey, I need your big brain."
"I choose to believe that's a compliment."
Joe can hear the smile in Nile's voice when she says, "It's nice to think so, isn't it?"
He thumbs the "Speaker" button and puts the phone on the counter while he finishes making dinner. "Explain to me and my big brain why we're in such high demand."
"You know Quynh, from South East Asian Studies?"
"Big smile? Dirty laugh? Sends at least one grad student crying to the administration each year?"
"That's her, yeah. Apparently, she was talking to the new guy taking over the Cultural Anthropology classes, and he was telling her about taking his kids to an escape room thing. She's decided she wants it to be an interdepartmental team-building exercise."
Joe inspects the butter in the pan, deems it hot enough, and scrapes the shallots in. "So, really, she's decided she wants to hang out with you and Booker all afternoon."
"Yes, but if she says it's team-building, she can get the college to pay for it."
"All of it?" Joe is sure that the college wouldn't fork over enough to buy the amount of alcohol likely to be consumed after this little group adventure. He doesn't say that to Nile, of course. He doesn't have to.
"Yeah, that's a fair point. Well, they're paying for an escape room, at least."
He pokes at the shallots, moving a few from one side of the pan to the other. "I still don't see why I'm on the hook for this. I'm not in either department. I'm not even in Booker's."
"The more departments we get involved, the more successful the team-building." The silence hangs heavy between them. "Yeah, we could just go out, but as you said, five hours of drinking doesn't count as cross-organizational relationship building."
"Not As far as the college is concerned anyway."
That gets a laugh out of Nile. "Just think, with you there, we can finish the puzzles faster."
"And get to the drinks sooner." Joe tosses some minced garlic into the pan, inhaling deeply as the smell fills his tiny kitchen. "So you want me there to speed the execution of your thinly veiled cover story."
"Don't act like you're not going to do it."
"Of course I'm going to do it."
To be honest, she had him at 'escape room.' As a kid, he got heavily into logic problems. His parents let him check out book after book of them from the library. From there, it became a love of puzzles in general. Escape rooms have always perfectly combined the thrill of finding a solution with the challenge of a countdown clock. Theoretically, it's not a game, but Joe loves the sense of triumph as a room gives up its secrets.
"I knew the puzzles would hook you."
Joe shrugs. "And I like when you have to tell me how clever I am. Is it just the four of us?" This time the silence is more tense than heavy. "Nile."
"Quynh's wife is coming."
That's not enough reason for her to be cagey like this. Joe and Andy have once or twice at some faculty events; they got along fine. Nile almost sounds like she's—
"Nile. Is Andy coincidentally bringing some single friend?"
"Yes, but this time it really is a coincidence! I promise. It's not a set-up. I don't know anything about him, and you don't even have to talk to him if you don't want to. Andy says he's good with puzzles, too, though. So maybe you'll make a new buddy."
Turning the heat down a little, Joe adds the couscous pearls to the shallots and garlic, toasting them as evenly as he can. "The minute someone makes a sly hint, I'm leaving, and one of you can try to remember Morse code without me."
"I promise."
The problem with Nile is that she sounds perfectly sincere, but he's fallen for that before. Joe adores her, but in this instance, he doesn't trust her as far as he can throw her. He sighs and resigns himself to an afternoon of well-intentioned matchmaking, deciding it might be worth it for the chance to show off his problem-solving skills a little.
Nile, Joe, and Booker arrive together. Quynh is already waiting, along with the man Joe assumes is Andy's friend, so Andy must be around here somewhere. The friend has his back to Joe, so he has half a second to appreciate the sight of shoulders so wide Joe's half sure the guy had to come through the door sideways. Before he can even form the thought, 'This might not be so bad after all,' Quynh greets him with that amazing grin of hers.
"Joe! I hear you've come to be our secret weapon."
He can't help but smile, can't help but accept her friendly hug. She's lovely, and if he didn't know better, he'd think those sobbing grad students must have done something to provoke her.
"I'll do my best."
Quynh loops her arm through his. "Of course you will. Andy's finishing a phone call, she'll be with us shortly, and we can get started. Between you and Nicky, we'll be out of there in no time." She turns to the man still perusing the pictures on the wall, his back to the rest of their group. "Nicky, come meet my fellow downtrodden educators."
Briefly, Joe wonders how long it will take the stranger to face them. With shoulders that wide, is it like trying to turn a cruise ship? Sadly, no. In a disappointingly standard amount of time, the guy is looking their way, and---
Everything in the room grinds to a halt.
Joe knew those eyes were going to haunt him, but this? He would never have put money on coming face to face with Nicolò—Nicky, now, he supposes—barely a week after being stood up. It is unmistakably him, though. Even if it hadn't been for the eyes, there's something about the slant of his mouth and the angle of his jaw. Right. Focus, Joe. They've got a second, maybe, to figure out how they want to play this, and in that time, they need to propose a solution, negotiate its execution, and agree on it, all without opening their mouths.
Joe bypasses all of that, choosing instead to narrow his eyes and say only an icy, "Hello."
Quynh looks confused. "Joe, have you two met already?"
"No." Joe snaps his mouth closed around whatever was about to come out next because that was more vehement than he'd intended. He takes a breath and tries to take all the emotion out of his voice. "We've never met."
Nicolò's jaw clenches as he says, "At first, I thought your face seemed familiar, but you're right. I don't know you. At all."
Andy's return stops their escalating faux politeness before it can get any worse. "What did I miss?"
"Just some small talk," Quynh says, looking for all the world like she's just discovered that not only is her house overrun by rabid squirrels, but that one has shit in her shoe.
"Nice to see you again, Joe." Andy's smile is warm and welcoming. "Thanks for lending us your skills today. To hear Nile tell it, there's no puzzle you can't solve."
Joe keeps his eyes on hers; he does not look to see if Nicky heard that. "I don't know about that." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes sure the grin he gives her is charmingly confident rather than obnoxiously arrogant. "There's probably one out there, somewhere."
Her laugh isn't quite as great as Quynh's, but it's still excellent. "Nicky's the same way. I used to try and find the hardest riddles just to stump him. After he knocked out the first twenty or thirty without even breaking a sweat, I finally admitted that this guy is just un-stumpable." She pats Nicky's arm, smiling at him. "Now I just enjoy the show." Looking back at Joe, she says, "It'll be great having you both in there with us, and you two will finally have someone who can keep up with you."
And that might have been nice, but not today. Not with Nicky. Keeping up with each other implies they're trying to stick together, and that's the last thing either of them wants. Joe won't burst Andy's bubble, but he will be leaving Nicky as far behind as he can, not hoping Nicky can match his speed.
Quynh's strained smile suggests she knows how big a gauntlet Andy just unintentionally threw down, but there's not a damn thing she can do about it besides getting them into the room. "So, now that the introductions are out of the way, and we checked in already, should we go find the attendant?" She looks deeply cranky, and Joe wishes he were as sorry as she deserves.
If he and Nicky are about to engage in a competence arms race, things could get very, very ugly.
The attendant's name is Ethan, and Joe's guessing he does not get paid enough to deal with two adult men engaging in a verbal slap fight. For the duration of their orientation, Joe does his best to behave. Ethan explains the rules, the time limit, and the theme. He shows them the leaderboard displaying the record for the shortest time to escape the room, then tells them that some puzzles are meant to be solved by more than one person. Joe snorts. Maybe they're meant to be solved by two or more people, but to Joe, that just sounds like a challenge.
The person to Joe's right shifts, and he glances over in time to see Nicky cross his arms over his chest. He looks supremely confident in his abilities, and Joe can't wait to take him down a peg or two. Why prove you can keep up with someone when you can leave them in the dust instead?
"Who wants the pencil?" Ethan asks.
Nile snatches it before Joe can even start his lunge. "I'll handle it."
"You get a clipboard as well since there won't always be a writing surface." She takes it with a smile, and Joe is quietly seething. He loves a good clipboard. From the way Nicky's fingers are twitching, Joe's not the only one.
Ethan asks if they're all ready.
Putting on what he hopes is a winning smile, Joe says, "I know I am."
"Then you can head on in."
Nicky holds the door open for everyone else, but Joe, bringing up the rear, waves him in ahead. "I've got it," he says, reaching for the door.
"It's no trouble."
"I didn't think it was, but you're leaning against the door. If you go in now, I can hold the door, and I don't have to shimmy past you."
Nicky cocks an eyebrow. "You'd have to shimmy? You can't simply walk?"
"Of course I can. I'm simply waiting for you to go ahead of me." This is not the competition Joe was expecting to have with Nicky, but dammit, he's going to win it anyway.
"No, truly," Nicky says. "After you."
When Ethan grabs the door knob, it startles Nicky, throwing him slightly off-balance. Joe does his best not to snicker, but Nicky gives him a bit of side-eye anyway.
"I'll go ahead and close the door after you both," Ethan says, clearly done with their shit after only a few seconds.
As it happens, Joe does win the standoff. In a way. Ethan may be holding the door, but Joe's the last one through. It is the most bizarrely-placed sense of triumph he's ever felt. In the quiet, low-ceilinged room, their voices carry unexpectedly well, and Joe hears Nile mumble something to Andy. The only word he catches is 'pigtails,' and he fails to see how that's at all relevant to the task at hand.
"The fifty-minute clock starts now," Ethan says just before he turns to leave.
Joe has just enough time to think, 'This is a terrible idea,' before they all hear the snick of the door closing behind him.
A genuinely terrible idea.