as he was headed home, he got a notification on his phone. It was to arrange the first meeting between him and his muse, to take place at Inspire Inc.’s headquarters. It gave three possible times, presumably when Harper was available. One was Saturday afternoon, another Friday evening. But one of them was that evening, at eight p.m. He checked his watch. Six-thirty. He had time. Eagerly, he pressed that option. A few minutes later, he got the confirmation. Everything was coming together.
He had just enough time to get home, clean up, change, grab a quick bite to eat, and head back out. Despite knowing this was a sure thing, he still felt nervous as he stepped through the door into the building.
“Mr. Riley?”
A smiling woman met him just inside the entrance.
“Uh, that’s right.”
“Excellent. You’re right on time, and your future muse is already here. If you’d like to follow me…”
She led him down a corridor and into… a bar?
“We like to give as authentic a feel to this as possible. Our clients find an office-like environment too clinical, but most feel more comfortable with a drink in their hands. Alcohol-free, I’m afraid. Can’t have people signing contracts when they’re tipsy now, can we?”
Her cheery manner was a little off-putting, but he nodded, nonetheless. “No, I guess you can’t.”
The room was dimly lit, the seating arranged in closed, numbered booths that were screened off from one another. It meant that a glance around revealed none of the other occupants beyond vague figures and the murmur of voices. There appeared to be quite a few couples there. More than he’d expected for a midweek evening.
“Some of our clients prefer to meet their muses here instead of out in public. It can prevent awkward questions. We have several social settings available. Now, you’re meeting Mr. Jones. He’s in booth seven, near the window. If you need anything, use the green button on the screens to call for one of our staff.”
He thanked her, and then headed toward the window and booth seven. When he stopped just outside, he found Harper watching him with apprehension. William didn’t blame him. This was more subterfuge than he’d ever attempted before, and he wondered if it would somehow be obvious to those watching that they knew each other.
“Hello,” he said awkwardly, hovering next to Harper’s booth.
“Hi.” Harper stood and held out a hand. “Harper Jones.”
William took his hand, holding it for a moment in lieu of shaking it. “William Riley. It’s good to meet you in person, finally.”
Harper bit his lip and let go of William’s hand, sliding back into his seat. “Likewise. Why don’t you sit and get a drink? Then, I guess we should follow the itinerary?”
William sat down, unsure what Harper was talking about until he saw the screens built into the table, like little tablet computers. His and Harper’s names were on the top of the screen, and there was a short list of checkboxes, the first being greetings, the second being drinks.
William ticked off the first, then looked down the list of drinks offered. He checked to see what Harper was having before he made his choice, glancing around to figure out if he needed to go get it. But a few moments later, a waiter moved their way with William’s glass of sparkling grape juice perfectly balanced on his tray.
“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” the man said before he stepped away.
The next item on the list said introductions. It was somewhat moot, in their case, but William guessed they should go through the motions. He took a sip of his drink and glanced at Harper.
“Why don’t I start?” the omega offered. “Not that there’s much to say that you don’t know.”
William frowned, thinking they shouldn’t be so obvious about knowing each other, when he realized Harper was referring to their profiles and not their friends in common.
“So, I work as a waiter, I live with a friend, and I’m a type-S. Oh, and I wanted to be a muse because it felt good to try something new.” He took a big gulp of his drink. “And I wish like hell they served alcohol here. Your turn.”
“Right.” William glanced around awkwardly, resisting the urge to tug at his collar. “I’m an architect. I like to work and keep in shape. I need a muse because creativity is essential for my job and, I guess, my well has run dry. So here I am.”
“Here you are,” Harper echoed. “Think that satisfies ‘introductions?’”
“God, I