Going Up! Read Free Page A

smiled.
    “That’s really sweet,” he said.
    Zach found it suddenly hard to breathe, and his mouth went dry, and he was caught up in the idea that the only thing sweet in the world was that oh- dayum smile but the smile faded and—
    Ding!
    The elevator door opened and it was time to go. This time Sean left first, but before he walked out the glass doors from the lobby to the street, he turned and offered a tentative smile and a wave.
    Zach waved back. That whole stretchy-face/cold-cheek thing lasted until he got to work and everything!
     
     
    “S HAKESPEARE ?” Z ACH asked politely.
    Sean wore peasant garb today—drawstring pants, a doublet, the floppy hat and everything. He grinned.
    “Romeo & Juliet, eighth grade. I get them for a week!”
    “That sounds….” Zach couldn’t do it. “Awful,” he apologized. “But I’m glad someone enjoys eighth grade.”
    “Well, it’s a lot easier when you practice,” Sean said with a wink. “Besides—I’ve got all this theatre stuff, and I’m teaching them English/History—I mean, it feels like the whole reason I hauled this stuff around with me, you know?”
    Zach didn’t know—he’d been on the debate team. But he nodded anyway. “The teaching thing—you really like?”
    Sean nodded and Zach was treated to that smile—all teeth and dimples and a ducked head that sort of asked forgiveness for that much joy. “It’s like being the most popular kid in the class. Eighth graders never had it so good!”
    Zach hadn’t been particularly popular. He’d kept his head down and his grades good, and had ignored the girls who thought the valedictorian was some sort of trophy.
    “I wouldn’t know,” he said quietly, and Sean’s long, mobile face suddenly assumed a look of compassion that Zach was entirely uncomfortable with.
    Ding!
    Saved by the bell!
     
     
    “V AUDEVILLE ?” B ECAUSE really, he couldn’t believe even a public school would let a guy teach in drag.
    Sean didn’t smile back. The fulminating look he sent Zach should have shut Zach up for life, but…. God, he was so cute. Even in heavy bordello make-up and a saloon-girl-style purple velvet dress. “Singing telegrams,” he replied sourly. “They were hiring.”
    Zack held in the smile, because he could tell Sean was not in the mood. “And, uhm, you had Mae West in your costume trunk.”
    Sean flashed a reluctant dimple. “No—this is Katie’s. She’s in theater too.”
    “So, the, uhm, ankle boots?” They were leather, with a slight heel, and Zach really couldn’t tell if they were feminine or masculine and he was rewarded by a full-out Sean smile—the kind that he’d started to treasure.
    “No, those are mine. I wear them clubbing—you like?”
    “Yeah,” Zach said gravely. He inclined his head. “They’re very unisex.”
    Sean rolled his eyes. “They’re gayer than gay—but it was a nice try.”
    Ding!
    “After you,” Zach said, bowing slightly and gesturing for the “lady” to precede him.
    Sean wrinkled his nose and shook his head—and smiled. “Thank you, kind sir,” he said, his voice as dry as I-5 in the summer.
    Zach had to admit, as he watched Sean struggle into his peacoat and wrap a scarf around his neck before he hit the glass door out of the lobby—the dress sure did nice things for his behind.

Ground Floor
     
    “W HO IS she?” Leah asked tartly, getting her now customary coffee. This time, Zach had brought six scones, and told her to share the goods with the other office assistants in the firm.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “It’s someone. You’ve been actually—that thing on your face, the one that still shows through your five-o-clock shadow. I’ve been seeing it a lot in the morning. Who is she?”
    “There is no she,” he said quietly, and he kept his voice uninflected. “Actually, that does remind me. Remember the Christmas party?”
    “Where I got to be your plus one and drink champagne and eat foie gras? Yeah—why? Your dad having another