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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's War - 13. Chapter 13

The Fairview Mall was really an afterthought to the city of Toronto. It housed everything the Eaton Centre did downtown, yet was located just far enough out of the way to be a fraction cheaper. That and you didn't have to refinance your house just to park there for an hour. It had a pleasant atmosphere, with comfortable sofas instead of benches, a number of coffee shops, almost as if the management wanted to create that friendly living room feeling. Except your living room had an average of a thousand people a day moving through it, and complete strangers putting their feet up on your coffee table.

Will hated the mall. It was too busy, too brightly coloured. It gave him a sense of confusion as he tried to navigate it, passing stores that looked entirely too much alike as he followed the signs to the bus station. However, he got the impression the signs were leading him in a great circle, and eventually he stopped at a coffee shop to ask directions.

Armed with a large double-double and a renewed sense of purpose, he was once again back on the hunt for the subway station, wishing he actually used the TTC regularly enough to know where its subway stations were. He knew it was underground somewhere, and that gave him an idea to look for stairs. A short step outside and down a short escalator ride, and he was standing in the massive tunnels carved out under Sheppard Avenue that housed the subway.

It was a surreal place of bright white lighting, steel, and the din of train engines idling at the same time. Will thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them warm in the late March cold. The TTC, or red rocket, was billed as being reliable, clean and efficient. Which was to say it was none of those things, especially in winter. At least it wasn't the British Rail system. Will had been a regular when he had grown up living in Eastbourne and each day he had been forced to cram together with so many other people that he could barely breathe; he had sworn never again. It was that fact alone that made him glad he owned a car; it was expensive, but he was guaranteed a seat, and at least reasonably certain he could actually get to where he was going.

He sipped the coffee from the styrofoam cup he had just bought and rested on the walkway that looked down over the platform. From up there he could see most of what was going on beneath him, shoppers leaving the mall with their bags of shopping. Kids who should have been at school rather than sneaking a smoke and killing time. Workers on their lunch break, like he was.

He glanced at his watch, he was still early, and he sighed as he drank his coffee. Why was he there? What was he trying to prove? He should have just taken Jared's advice and not come. But then he didn't feel in danger. Brody was simply overreacting, what could a younger guy with such a small frame do to him? Will worked out regularly, carried a cell phone and was in a public place. If the guy seemed crazy it was probably because he was eccentric, he just did things differently. Hell, Will himself was a living example of someone who had been known to do weird things when he had to.

Which raised another good point, was Marc hitting on him? If he was how did Will feel about that? He was gay, well, but not in the way that required him to put on a dress, get up on stage and lip-sync to Cher's latest song. Sure Will had dated, but having a five-year relationship with his first and only boyfriend, he wasn't exactly a dating maestro. Sure Will had thought about dating, and there had been a few abortive dates with brain-dead one-night stands that hadn't gone well--Will had been too nervous about it, and the guy was in too much of a hurry to just get off. The experience had simply convinced Will he was better off staying single.

Will had simply stopped bothering to try and he knew that he was quite content to date occasionally and just forget about the love thing. But now the rules had changed, and Will re-examined the memories with a cold dispassion, why was he there? He had no explanation.

That wasn't to say he wouldn't be open to the idea, he just wasn't going to be the one to do the hunting. He wasn't willing to take the first step; he couldn't just walk into a bar and seduce someone for the sake of doing it. There were so many good reasons not to do that, the foremost being that Will wasn't a player; if he was, someone had forgotten to give him a hockey stick and a pair of skates. Nope, Will was just going to watch, and if another guy came and sat down next to him while he watched, so much the better.

Was that why he was there? He had to admit the assertiveness Marc had displayed in calling up like that had intrigued him. Will respected confidence; it was what got him to where he was. He figured anyone that could take the time to reason out how to contact him from a company logo on his jacket had to be intelligent. And the fact that Marc had the balls to call him like he had, that at least had to be worth a lunch.

However, actually going on a date with the guy was different from just lunch. It was like he was opening himself up to something completely new. There was something about the mystery and excitement, something he lacked in his regular routine. He was a creature of habit. He went through the rote day in and day out. Responsible, reliable, sarcastic. But there he was, about to do something irresponsible. Well, at the very least he could chalk it up to a life lesson and move on. He was willing to try anything to break the monotony of life everlasting. And the chance, however remote, of a love that wouldn't condemn him...

He turned his back to the station and looked across the walkway to the mall entrance where he saw Marc with his back to him, waiting just beside the escalators. The young guy appeared to be searching the throng of people exiting the mall, probably looking for Will.

Will took a moment to contemplate the other man. Young, around twenty or so, spiky brown hair that was the fashion, wearing a ski jacket that looked entirely too big on him. He had a pale complexion; the skin was almost milky white. Will supposed he was attractive in a skater-boy kind of way, with a swaggering confidence to match.

He turned and caught sight of Will and raised a hand in a half-wave.

Will waved back and cursed as the lid to his coffee mug popped off, spilling coffee down him. He glanced down at it soaking into his white shirt and immediately tried to brush it off.

"You okay?" Marc asked, bending a little to take a closer look at the shirt.

"Yeah, I spilled coffee," Will said, aware that he was stating the obvious as he shook to get the sticky coffee from his hand. He crossed to a garbage can and tossed the mug away, un-tucking his shirt and continuing to try to brush the rapidly setting stain out. "Now I look stupid."

Marc contemplated it and shrugged. "Just take it off," he said dismissively.

Will looked over at him startled, "What?"

Marc pointed to the shirt, "You're wearing a t-shirt under that so just lose the shirt and you'll look fine."

Will shrugged off his jacket and passed it to Marc as he unbuttoned the cotton shirt and slipped it off, glad that he had chosen a dark t-shirt that morning so the coffee stain didn't show. He took back his jacket, put it on and tucked the shirt over his arm.

"That's better," Marc said with a slight smile. "You look relaxed like that."

Will nodded, "Well then, that's good." He cocked his head and extended his hand, "Hi there, by the way, good to see you."

Marc looked at the pre-offered hand in bemusement, "Yeah, me too. I thought I'd missed you though."

Will chuckled, "Nope, been waiting right here--so what's the plan?"

Marc glanced around, "Well, we should do lunch."

Will shrugged, "Cool, there's a restaurant across from the mall, and last I checked there is an East Side Mario's inside."

Marc looked down at the bus station, "We could hop a train downtown to Yonge Street or something."

Will frowned, then what had been the point at meeting at Don Mills? He rubbed his cheek in thought, "I have the Jeep here, and we might as well drive. And that way I don't have to TTC it back out here just to drive back in to work."

"Okay," Marc agreed following beside Will. "So you were working today?"

"Long day so far," Will admitted as they wound their way back through the mall towards the parking lot. "I'm staffing a new office out in Vancouver, and the company I work for is in the middle of a merger with Tri-Tech Innovations."

"What do they do?" Marc asked in interest.

"Well, they're a small engineering firm that make computer components and one of the departments in my firm, Avery-Woods, creates the software to use those components. Our two companies have been partners for a long time, but just recently it was decided that Avery-Woods should just merge with Tri-Tech."

"Like a hostile takeover or something?" Marc's deep brown eyes flashed in excitement.

"No, not really. Tri-Tech wants to merge; they need Avery-Woods more than we need them. From what I understand, they have just developed a new generation of routers and we're going to market them. Get some competition for Alcatel and Nortel." Will shrugged, "Pretty mundane stuff."

Marc stepped around a burly lady leading three young kids and carrying too many bags, "So that's what Avery-Woods makes, routers?"

"Not yet," Will replied with a smile. "We're a communications firm, and we make cell phones, radios, TV media, newspapers. In one aspect or another Avery-Woods is a pretty large company."

"Cool," Marc said as they crossed through Sears and out into the parking lot. "What do you drive?" he asked as they wound their way through the rows of parked cars.

"See that Jeep on the end, that's mine." Will pulled out his keys and pushed the button to unlock the doors.

"Cool Jeep." Marc said as he walked around to the passenger side.

"Yeah, it gets me around. Though my friends think I should get something more suitable for work." He got in, tossed the stained shirt into the backseat, and started the Jeep as Marc sat down.

"But suitable is boring," Marc replied. "This," he patted the dashboard, "this Jeep's fun."

Will smiled as he accelerated out onto the street and turned the car towards Don Mills Boulevard. "I like it," he replied proudly; he was fond of the Jeep; it was more him than a BMW or a Merc. He actually felt his own age driving it, instead of the old man he felt at work.

He glanced at his passenger, "So, what are you in the mood for?"

Marc turned his head with a knowing smile, "Whatever, it's all good."

Will rolled his eyes, was Jared right about Marc? Was he trying to flirt? Who cared really, he was going to enjoy his lunch. "Alright, well, do you like Italian?"

"Oreganos?" Marc asked, meaning a restaurant down in the heart of Yonge Street.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Will replied as the car swept down onto the Don Valley Parkway.

Copyright © 2011 Topher_Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I'm glad neither of them stood the other up. I think they both could benefit from time spent. Nice work, thanks.

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  • Site Administrator

They definitely share a connection of some sort. Let's see how it develops. 

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