Connor entered his parents' house through the side door, panting from his run, in a panic.
"Mother! Mum!?" He called. He had not seen the post on the front steps, but that did not mean Hart had not delivered it yet.
"Yes, Connor?" She asked, entering the front hall and smiling at her son. Her smile dropped at his pink-tinged cheeks and the sweat on his brow. "Are you all right? Why are you in such a state?"
Connor chuckled, shaking his head.
"I'm fine, mum. I went on a run, however, I am waiting for a letter, and I did not want to miss it being delivered." He hesitated, "has the courier come by already, do you know?" Connor asked, doing his best to mask his eagerness.
"No, he has not, to my knowledge." His mum wasn't frowning, but that did not mean anything. She patted his cheek with her hand and then turned, walking away.
"What sort of letter are you waiting for, Connor?" She asked as she walked to the sitting room.
"Nothing of any interest to you, mother." He muttered. "A possible employment opportunity I inquired after, I am waiting to hear from them." He said louder, lying and hoping she would drop the subject.
"Ah. I do not see why you feel the need to find employment. The family money requires no work of us, you know that." She commented from the other room.
"Yes mum, I know." Connor replied, whipping his head around at a knock on the front door. His heart began racing again, though he was no longer running, and he stood there, debating what he ought to do. He was not sure if he wanted to be seen as he was, sweaty and dishevelled... but he couldn't not open the door, else he would be seen by Stephen to be the same as his parents and neighbors. And that he did not want. Connor reached towards the doorknob, and then pulled away.
With a deep, steadying breath, Connor overcame his hesitation, grabbed the doorknob, turned the key, and pulled the door open. He wished he could exclaim Stephen's name, but he did not want to draw his mother's attention again.
Instead, he grinned at the courier, whose gorgeous blue eyes had lit up.
"One moment." Connor hissed, stepping back to call into the other room.
"Mother, I will be outside for a few moments." He didn't wait for a reply, before he stepped out onto the front walk beside Hart, and shut the door behind him.
"Stephen." Connor greeted, feeling hesitant again. Stephen's smile faltered, and Connor bit his lip. "Hi." He added, grinning sheepishly.
"Hello." Stephen replied, a wry look on his face as they practically reversed the previous day's exchange.
They were both quiet for a moment before Stephen summoned his nerve.
"I am sorry, for yesterday. I assumed quite a lot about you, Connor." He apologized.
"I should not have reacted so harshly to your assumption, though! You could not have known, truly, that I'm not like my parents." Connor stuck
out his hand. "Maybe we could try again?"
That was music to Stephen's ears, and he grasped Connor's hand firmly, shaking it. The young man's hands were soft, with calluses at the tips that suggested that perhaps he had worked similarly to Stephen's original employment at the university, as he had similar calusses (though Stephen's hands were rougher overall, he knew).
"I'm Stephen Hart, town courier."
"Connor Temple, frustrated son." Stephen snorted in amusement, releasing Connor's hand. Stephen hesitated, before taking the plunge.
"Would you, perhaps, like to get a drink with me after I finish this route, Connor Temple?"
The ex-student felt like his heart had skipped a beat, but he banished that childish notion of love at first sight. He was not going to be a cliche. A drink was just a drink.
"I would love to." Connor replied. They grinned at each other, before Stephen cleared his throat and handed the post in his other hand to him.
"I will see you at six this evening, then." Stephen said. Connor nodded, holding the bundle of letters tightly.
Stephen smiled and walked down the steps, heading towards the next house on his route. He turned and winked at Connor, whose face grew warm with the flush he knew turned his cheeks a bright red. The young man stumbled into his house and closed the door behind him, taking a few moments to compose himself. He had no need to tell his parents who he was to have a drink with later, but a form of the truth would be easier than a lie, or attempting to hide his excitement.