Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

ache in an odd way that only Paul could. “I couldn’t afford to buy you out when I retire. I’m lucky to make rent.”
They settled into a high-backed booth, where the green vinyl complemented Paul’s hair rather nicely. “What is it you do, Paul? I’m not sure I ever asked.”
There was his adorable blush, except El didn’t like the way Paul looked almost ashamed as his cheeks stained. “Nothing, really. I’m a receptionist at a veterinary clinic.”
“Are you now? That sounds interesting.” El meant it too, but he had the feeling Paul wasn’t going to believe him.
“Not as interesting as being the actual vet.” Paul shrugged, poking at his sandwich. “That was what I went to school for, but I didn’t do well. I never even finished.”
“You could go back.”
Another shrug. “I guess I had an idea of what being a vet would be like, and the reality is different. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, and when Nick offered to let my job be full time, it all seemed to fall into place. Now here I am.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” El teased him.
That at least earned El a little smile. “It’s not that I’m not happy with my job. More like this was never what I planned to do with my life, you know? Like there was a schedule and I got off track and I don’t know how to get back on.” He made a face. “Sorry. I should have warned you when you asked me to lunch that I was in a funny mood.”
El knew the feeling. The same restlessness that had driven him out of the shop seemed to be bulldozing at Paul as well. That realization felt like a spark, as if together their restlessness combined could be something more. Something specific. Something better.
He could hear Denver mocking him already, but he ignored it. “Two questions, the second one dependent on the answer of the first. Number one: what’s your shoe size?”
Paul looked wary. And, El thought, perhaps a little intrigued. “Nine. Why?”
El wasn’t sure the exact size of what he had in the shop, but it had to be close. “Number two: have you ever been rollerblading?”

    Three hours later, when El nearly ran Paul over for the umpteenth time, he gave up trying to climb back to his feet and collapsed, laughing, onto the grass beside the trail. Paul fumbled to the ground beside him, laughing as well. “I assumed when you asked me to rollerblade that you knew how.”
    “Never said that.” El shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun. “These have been in the shop for years. I doubt anyone’s going to use them, so we might as well.”
    Paul propped himself up on his elbows and stuck his rollerbladed feet out into the sidewalk. “What do you do when things don’t sell?”
    “I leave it all as long as I can. If I start running out of room or get tired of looking at something, I take it to Goodwill or throw it out. Generally, I do that less and less as I go on. You start to learn what will sell and what won’t and stop taking it.”
    Except, of course, when he bought kitchen appliances from cute redheads.
Paul stared out across the park toward the amphitheater, where a couple of college kids were horsing around at the edge of the stage. The sun made his hair look like fiery, spun gold and lit up his creamy skin, making El want to touch it. Paul looked wistful, and El wanted to tease him back into happy.
“You make it sound so easy,” Paul said.
That made El laugh. “What, pawning people’s stuff ? It’s not rocket science, no.”
He shook his head. “Being happy, I mean. Accepting what you have and being happy with it.”
That was how he looked to Paul? “I wouldn’t say I’m happy.”
Now Paul focused on him, his sweet, gullible gaze searching. “You’re always laughing and teasing. And you’re always so put-together. Nothing upsets you.”
El should tease now, he knew that, but he couldn’t. “You know what they say about comedians. They laugh so you don’t see them cry.” Except that was way too far, so he shrugged and turned back to the park. “I’m not unhappy, I guess. Accepting, maybe. Life is what it is. Can’t change it, can’t quit the game.”
But you can avoid playing as much as possible.
Paul didn’t seem to like El’s answer. “Of course we can change it. We can do better. Find the right thing to say. Plant the right flowers.” That made El eyeball him, earning a blush as a reward. “There’s a neighborhood contest to make our yards look nicer. I want to win.” He scowled into the