Michael and I had known each other forever—since primary school, then high school, and later on at university where we both studied fields of computer sciences. We were never overly close as kids or at high school, but at uni we had social circles that overlapped like a Venn diagram, with him and me in the middle common element, and we just clicked.

Even before uni was over, he’d put down the foundations of an interactive computer engineering company and needed a network architect, which was my area of expertise, and over the last five years, we’d become inseparable mates. He had black hair, dark eyes and eyelashes that people paid a fortune for, a smile that won contracts, a jaw that could cut glass, and a stare so intense, it made a competitor fold like a pack of cards.

And while I’d initially helped him set up his business, technically he was my boss, and I was perfectly okay with that. Actually, seeing him stress over corporate taxes and dividends and margins and a tonne of other business-related bullshit, I was more than okay with him being the boss. He paid me well, and sure, we talked business and he asked me for my professional opinion on some business deals, but I was happy without the added responsibilities he had.

And, somehow, we’d managed to maintain our friendship over the course of our careers. Which would explain why he put a fresh coffee in front of me and looked at me with that expectant gaze. I took a sip of the coffee, and it was good. “Thanks. And yeah, I don’t even know what I’m thinking about.”

He snorted. “So, what’s his name?”

I tried not to laugh but rolled my eyes. He knew me too well. “Jordan. But before you say anything, it’s not like that. He came to my support meeting last Friday night and he was a bit upset. We spoke afterwards for a while, but then I saw him again yesterday. On the bus,” I added before he could assume anything.

“And?”

“And he’s funny. He does this flustered, awkward thing, which is cute.”

“And he went to your support meeting? So he’s…”

“Gay, yes. Asexual, maybe. He’s pretty sure it’s a fit. But it’s early days. I think he needs time to get used to the idea.”

“So why are you even thinking about him?” Michael asked, and it was a fair question. “Is that not a conflict of interest? I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

I smiled at him. “I know, and thank you. I do appreciate that. It’s just…

He narrowed his gaze at me. “It’s just what?”

“He knows who Daniel Keyes is.”

“One of your book guys?”