Love at Sixth Sight

Chapter 1 Harris played his thirteenth minesweeper game of the day, head resting on his fist. He blew his wavy brown hair out of his eyes as he addressed the latest tech disaster that came his way. “IT department, this is Harris, how can I help you?” He spoke into his wireless headset as he clicked through minesweeper. “Hey, Harry.” It’s Harris, short for Harrison, you don’t need to shorten it anymore, you t**t. “Hi, Tina, what’s wrong today?” “You know how it is, the exercise equipment is spotless, but our work equipment is prehistoric.” Harris rolled his eyes; he’d heard the same complaints from the staff at Full Fitness a hundred times. Most of them were muscle heads or slashes—actors/models—and none of them seemed to know how to turn on a computer, let alone sign on to their email accounts. Half of his job consisted of resetting passwords. “Yeah, they should do something about that.” Harris beat his game and started a new one. “So what’s wrong now?” “I have to print a sign up form for a new member, but the stupid printer won’t work. Again.” Harris pictured blonde Tina behind her counter, giving a sorry technology sucks look to some chubby girl waiting to get on a treadmill. “Did you check to make sure the printer is on?” “Yeah, I’m not dumb, Harry.” Sure you are. “I know. Is the green power light on?” “No. It’s not working. I pressed the on button like you told me last time, but nothing.” “How about the power cord? Is that plugged into the wall?” Tina grunted and said, “I’ll check. One sec.” “Okay.” Harris lost his game and opened solitaire instead of starting a new game. He started clicking through the digital deck when Tina came back on the phone. “I just plugged it in. I swear, if the cleaners knock it out one more time. Anyway, thanks, bye, Harry.” Click. Harris made a note of the call in his log and returned to solitaire. Ring. “IT department, this is Harris, how can I help you?” He scrolled through more cards on the screen, bringing a few down into the proper place. “Hey, it’s Tim, how’s it going?” Harris pictured the strapping brunet and sighed. “It’s good, been a busy day. How you doing, Tim?” “Really good. I’m getting settled in for the night shift, and I got locked out.” “Did you try your password more than three times?” Harris asked. “Something like that.” Harris was supposed to verify the caller’s identity before resetting their password to PASSWORD1, but knew Tim by his voice. “Just give me one second.” “You’re the best, Harris. I hate the weekend guy.” The weekend guy hates you. Harris pulled up the user menu and quickly reset Tim’s profile. “All right, Tim, you know the drill. It’s set back to PASSWORD1. Want me to stay on the phone while you make up a new one?” “No, no. I’m all set then, bro. We should chill some time. I owe you, like, five drinks for all the help.” More like ten, but my boyfriend would kill me. “Sounds good. Have a good one, Tim.” “Bye.” Harris ended the call and logged it for his manager’s records. Ring. “IT department, this is Harris, how can I help you?” “Um, the copier is jammed, should I try to send more paper through?” Harris frowned, trying to recognize the man’s voice, which was even higher than his own. He’d always hated the sound of his own voice, thinking it an octave too high, like he was always singing, although his friends told him he shouldn’t be self-conscious about it. “No, no, don’t do that.” Harris sighed. “You’re going to have to try and remove the jam first, don’t make it worse.” Please don’t make me go out there and remove paper shreds. “Okay, but I just sent through another five copies and now there’s shredded paper sticking out. Is that bad?” Before Harris could reply, the caller started laughing. “Is this Tucker?” “Yeah, I couldn’t keep that up any longer.” Harris’ friend returned to his normal speaking voice. “How’s work?” “Same as every day. What are you up to?” “I got a TiVo—the expensive model—can you help me set it up on your way home tonight?” “Not really.” “Why not?” “Because it’s super easy to do and I want to get back to the apartment and make sure Dalton doesn’t order out on his night to cook, again.” Harris sighed, imagining his boyfriend trying to pass off delivery as a home cooked meal. If the plethora of delicious food hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the lack of dirty pots and pans sure was. The only time Dalton ever did the dishes without being asked was on Harris’ birthday. “If it’s so super easy, then it won’t take you too much time,” Tucker argued. “C’mon. I’m your best friend.” “You want to fight Mitchell for that title again?” “I would have beat him in Harris Trivia if I wasn’t drunk,” Tucker said. “So make Mitchell set up your TiVo.” “He’s seeing some play for the magazine. He’s writing an article about it.” “What about Brittany?” Harris asked. “She’s taking a cooking class at the learning annex. God knows she needs it. I’m just like Princess Leia here.” “You’re a princess, all right, but I would go more Disney animated.” “You know what I mean. You’re my only hope.” “Funny. Fine. I’ll give you twenty minutes, but then I’m out the door, even if you’re not set up and programming Project Runway yet.” “Deal.” “Got a call. See you in a couple hours.” “Okay, see you—” Harris disconnected and leaned back in his chair. He took his headset off, locked his computer, and took a bathroom break. Why couldn’t he have a peaceful Friday without one of his friends needing something? After he pissed, Harris surveyed himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed to get some hair gel and come up with a way to tame his wild locks. Dalton didn’t seem to care, but he was easily pleased. Sure, Harris was skinny and cute, but there was always more he could do to better present himself. At least he’d found a great boyfriend who wasn’t so locked into looks.