We Wander Through Difference (2/3)
part 1
Chris is not as subtle as he thinks he is. So when he walks into Mark’s office and spares a considering glance at the wall of windows that look out into the bullpen before sitting down on the other side of his desk, Mark gears himself up for a difficult conversation. Chris not only has his Serious Business face on, with bonus sides of worry and puzzlement, he doesn’t usually care if their occasional confrontations have witnesses-he thinks it’s good for the employees to know their CEO is human and sometimes makes mistakes and gets yelled at-so the fact that he even thought about closing the blinds means that this is definitely not a conversation Mark wants to have. Finally, Chris is looking at him like he doesn’t quite know where to start, and Chris is never at a loss for words. He’s been living and breathing Facebook PR for so long, Mark suspects he even writes out the lectures he gives Mark whenever he screws something up for maximum effect, clarity, and efficiency. And Chris and Mark could probably have one of their try-to-be-a-real-boy-and-not-a-coding-robot conversations in their sleep at this point, so it’s not that either. Mark is just starting to get worried that something finally broke Chris-worried both at the prospect of a broken Chris and about the absolute disaster that could have broken him-when Chris finally speaks up.
“You look like death, Mark. You should have stayed home.”
“I stayed home sick for the last two days, and I was going crazy. And I feel better,” Mark starts to say before he erupts in a coughing fit. Traitors, he thinks at his lungs. Chris just raises an eyebrow. “Anyways,” Mark continues, “I’m busy. Doing important CEO things,” and he turns back to the paperwork on his desk. It’s just contracts he needs to sign-CEO busywork he’ll never get used to-and Chris knows it.
“If you were actually interested in what you’re doing, it would have taken me at least two more tries to get your attention,” Chris says.
“Fine,” Mark sighs. “I know you didn’t come here to lecture me about my health again, because you did that enough yesterday. So what do you want?”
“Why didn’t you tell Eduardo you’re the CEO of Facebook?”
Mark freezes. He knew this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but he had never imagined Chris would ambush him with this. He presses his lips together and spins his chair a little to stare at the corner of his desk.
“Come on Mark, really? You’re not going to talk about this?” Chris huffs out an exasperated sigh and ruffles a hand through his hair. “Think of it as practice. I bet Eduardo’s going to want to talk about it at your next little grocery store date.”
“They’re not-wait, he knows?”
“Yeah, he knows. How did you think I knew that he didn’t know? Before I told him, that is.”
“You told him?” Mark bites out, spinning back to glare at Chris.
“It just happened! Accidentally. It’s not like I knew that you hadn’t told him that you invented Facebook! Jesus, Mark, you usually can’t wait to pull that card. And with the way Dustin was practically puking rainbows and planning your wedding last week, how was I supposed to know Eduardo didn’t know what you do every day for a living?”
Mark deflates. “What am I supposed to say? You’re right and I screwed up? I know I should have told him. I should have told him the truth when I said I worked with computers. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that no matter how much you yell at me. So can you please just-stop? Believe me, I’ve already yelled at myself enough. Now, I’m busy, and I’m sure you have important things to do, so can you go do them? Preferably somewhere else.”
Chris does not leave, in the surprise of the century, but Mark has had years of practice in ignoring his significant looks, so he simply turns back to signing paperwork, if a little more forcefully than before. After a tense minute, Chris breaks.
“Mark, look, I’m sorry that I accidentally told Eduardo that you invented Facebook. But I did, and he knows, so now we need to plan a course of action.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “I didn’t molest him or anything, so there’s really no need to pull out your precious NDAs.”
“What-NDAs-Mark, what are you talking about?”
“Course of action? I assume that’s what you meant. After all, that’s your job, right? Clean up after my fuck-ups.”
Chris crumples in on himself a little. “Mark, no. First off, that’s not-that’s not what I do. Okay, yes, as head of Facebook PR it does fall to me to-smooth things over sometimes, but that’s not-and anyways, second, you did not fuck this up. I promise. By course of action, I meant how we are going to get him to date you.”
Mark can’t help himself from looking up at Chris, and he’s past caring to hide the hope and surprise on his face as Chris’ words echo in his head. “You think I still have a chance?”
Chris grins. “Maybe. But probably not without my help. I already knew you were emotionally constipated, and after talking to Eduardo yesterday, I don’t know if he’ll ever get the guts to make a move. So obviously you need a solid plan, and luckily you have at your disposal Chris Hughes, ‘Most Awesomest Planner,’ according to the plaque on my desk.”
Mark grimaces at the memory of Dustin armed with a label-maker. It was a harrowing two days before Chris finally managed to confiscate it while Dustin was napping in the game room. They still sometimes find more misspelled, asinine labels on random objects around the office.
“You already have a plan, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah. You’re going to call him, apologize for lying, and ask him out on a date.”
Mark waits to hear the rest, which doesn’t come. “Wait, that’s it?” he finally asks.
“Yes, that’s it. He’s pretty stupid for you, so it won’t take much groveling. Honestly, I’m not sure it will take any groveling, but you still should, it’s good form.”
“I don’t even have his phone number,” Mark says petulantly.
“You forget that I know you all too well,” Chris says, and he slaps a post-it note on Mark’s desk. Mark picks it up, his thumb tracing the ten digits on it.
“How did you get this?” he asks.
Chris just gets this smug grin and nods towards Mark’s desk phone. “Call him.”
“Okay, I will.” He turns back to his paperwork, but Chris doesn’t leave. “What, right now?” Mark asks.
“Yes, right now, because otherwise I know you’ll talk yourself out of it.” When Mark still doesn’t make a move towards his phone, Chris does, grabbing the post-it note out of Mark’s hand and punching it into the handset. Halfway through, he pauses and sighs.
“Mark, you know I’m not trying to be a dick about this. I like Eduardo, and you seem really happy whenever you talk about him. For the last few years, your main emotions have hovered somewhere between coding and stressed out. You were happy when we got Thiel’s investment and when we hit a million members, and even that only lasted until Sean fucked up. You’ve done this huge, amazing thing. Facebook’s good, Mark, it’s thriving and it’s not going anywhere. You deserve something good just for yourself.” He finishes dialing and puts it on speaker.
“Speaker, really?” Mark says as the phone starts ringing, but Chris just gives him one of his evil little shrug and grin combos, and then Eduardo picks up.
“Hello, this is Eduardo.”
“Hi, Eduardo, it’s Mark. From the grocery store.”
“Mark? What’s up? Um, also, how did you get this number?”
“I got it from Chris, and I don’t even want to know how he got it.”
“Right, yeah, probably for the best.” Eduardo sounds a little nervous.
“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Mark says in a rush. He looks at Chris, who’s mouthing apologize at him. “I want-I need to talk to you, and I want to apologize, but I want to do it in person.”
“Yeah, yes of course, sure, Mark. Is tonight too soon? I have a night off.”
“No, tonight’s perfect. I can pick you up at seven.”
“Sure, I’ll send you my address on Facebook.” There’s a funny noise on the other end, like Eduardo fumbled his phone. “I-I mean-”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Mark says, and then they both pause.
“Mark, you’re-is this-this is a date, right?” Eduardo finally says, and Mark smiles helplessly at Chris.
“Yes. If you want it to be,” he replies.
“Good. I mean, yes, I do. I’ll see you at seven?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you at seven. Bye, Wardo.” Chris hangs up the phone, then throws his arms up in some kind of victory wave, but Mark doesn’t even care. Chris finally gets up to leave, but right before he walks out the door Mark speaks up.
“Look, Chris. Thank you. For making me do this.”
Chris smiles softly. “You’re welcome. And good luck tonight,” he replies, and then walks out, leaving Mark smiling at his paperwork, finally letting himself think about Eduardo.
Mark gets a Facebook message less than five minutes later with an address and a phone number, signed Can’t wait :) -E. He barely gets anything done the rest of the day, too excited and nervous to focus. He tries to wire in during the afternoon and only sort of succeeds; he writes some good code, but he’s hyper-aware of the time, panicking every half hour or so that he’ll lose track of how long he’s been working and accidentally stand Eduardo up. But he doesn’t, and he manages to sneak out of the office at 5:30.
He drives home, takes a quick shower and then still has 45 minutes before he has to leave. He ends up sitting on his bed with his laptop, shirtless-he spent three minutes staring at his closet and then gave up before the feeling that he was a ridiculous teenage girl got to be too much-just dicking around on the internet. He checks a few webcomics and starts an argument about, like, global warming or something with a douchebag on some random forum just to burn off some of his nervous energy.
Finally, he looks at the clock again and realizes he needs to leave now, and then he has to try to button up the first shirt he grabs out of his closet while brushing his teeth and tying his shoes-no matter what Dustin says, Mark does know enough to not wear his flip-flops on a fucking first date-all at the same time.
He has to speed a little on the way over, but he manages to pull up to Eduardo’s apartment building at 6:58. Eduardo actually lives only about fifteen minutes away from Mark, but it’s definitely a different part of town. It’s not a bad neighborhood, just a bit more run-down than Mark’s, where most people have either owned their houses for a few decades or are on the generously wealthy side of upper middle class. But quite a few of the apartments in Eduardo’s building have window boxes with flowers, and there are two plastic trikes in the grass, and it looks nice-the kind of place where you can ask your neighbor for a cup of sugar or to watch your kid for ten minutes while you run to the corner store. Mark doesn’t really know what to do with his neighbors and their invitations to dinner parties and wine tastings, offered in the awkward moments when he is getting his mail or caught watering the hostas his mom planted when she helped him move in.
Mark sits in his car until the clock ticks over to seven exactly, then pulls out his phone and carefully dials the number he entered into his contacts that afternoon. It rings three times before Eduardo picks up with a breathless “Hello?”
“Wardo, hey. It’s Mark. I’m outside your building. Um, you didn’t give me your apartment number, so I’m just sitting in my car. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Cool, just give me one minute and I’ll be right down.”
Mark almost hangs up-he hates goodbyes, especially superfluous ones-but instead says, “Okay, see you soon.”
“Yeah,” Eduardo replies, and he sounds like he does when he can’t stop his stupid smile from spreading all over the place. “Okay, one minute,” he adds, then hangs up on Mark.
Mark’s not counting, but it feels simultaneously like half a second and five years before the door to Eduardo’s building bangs open. Mark’s mouth goes dry as he takes in the fit of Eduardo’s dark jeans and the line of his open collar, black against his golden skin. He should probably get out and open the car door for him or something, but he can’t exactly think at the moment, let alone move. He had already known the effect Eduardo’s general attractiveness had on him, but now, out of his uniform and about to go on a date with Mark, with all the possibilities that implies, he is unfairly perfect.
Eduardo climbs in the car; Mark probably should have thought about this more, because he says, “Hello, Eduardo,” weirdly formal and awkward as hell, especially considering the fact that he’s still gripping the steering wheel with an almost white-knuckle grip. Eduardo’s smile slips for a moment, but then it turns softer, indulgent.
“Hello, Mark,” he says back. Mark is about to turn back front when Eduardo raises his eyebrows a bit and adds, “Mark Zuckerberg,” because of course, all Mark’s ever wanted is yet another person who won’t put up with his bullshit.
Mark can tell the back of his neck is getting flushed, but he manages to keep the rest of his embarrassment under wraps. He thinks. Eduardo is grinning obnoxiously though, so probably not, after all. “Can we just wait until dinner? I promise I will explain-no, apologize. And explain, but Chris has told me more times than I want to remember that explanations are not apologies. Normally I don’t care, but this time I really do have something to apologize for, and I need to do it right. Not sitting in my car, which I probably should have cleaned up a bit before I picked you up.” Because Mark is just now noticing that there is a mess of receipts and change in one of the cup holders and an empty Mountain Dew can in the other, and his backseat is covered in map books, CD wallets, what may or may not be important paperwork, and even a couple hoodies tangled together around one of those ice scraper-brush things, and why does he even have one of those, it doesn’t even snow in California. Okay, he’s probably a lot more nervous than he let himself feel before.
He starts a little when Eduardo lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mark, it’s okay. Just breathe, and then we can go eat and talk, and everything will be okay. All right?”
Mark breathes, in and out, and then again, before unclenching his hands from the steering wheel and starting his car. Eduardo nods, making an approving noise, turns to buckle his seatbelt, and then they’re off. To their first date.
During the drive to the restaurant-Mexican, good food but not particularly fancy-they chat about little things, almost-but-not-quite small talk that would probably be awkward if not for Eduardo’s seeming ability to defuse any weird tension. He’s cheerful and earnest, and it’s infectious. By the time the waitress comes by to take their drink orders, Mark feels as comfortable as he always did sitting with Eduardo during his breaks at Safeway.
Once the waitress has come back and taken their orders, Eduardo doesn’t waste any time. “So, you’re Mark Zuckerberg, the young genius creator of Facebook, the most popular social-networking website in existence.”
Mark winces. “Well, when you say it like that,” he tries to joke, but it falls flat. It’s almost like Eduardo’s flipped a switch from having fun to Serious Conversation. He doesn’t look particularly angry, though, which gives Mark the courage to continue. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry I misled-no, lied to you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why you lied. I mean, the first time, whatever; it would have been worse if you led with that. But when you said you worked with computers and just let me assume that you were, like, some flunky programmer-that, I don’t get.”
“I just-you have no idea how nice it felt to have someone that didn’t see me as the ‘young genius’ creator of Facebook. I could just be a regular guy with you. I didn’t even have to think about Facebook if I didn’t want to. Don’t get me wrong, I love Facebook and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but for the past three years, my life has basically consisted of Facebook and sleep. I mean, I hang out with Chris and Dustin a lot, but they both work for Facebook too. I think I needed a break. I was a naïve kid when I started Facebook, and I never realized how much work it takes to run a company. I can’t just hole up in my dorm room for days and wire in anymore. At Safeway with you, even if it was just for half an hour once a week, I could turn that part of my brain off and just listen to you talk about storm patterns or whatever.”
Eduardo nods thoughtfully. “I guess I get that. And I forgive you, obviously, even though I felt like an idiot after Chris told me. It’s just-you know I don’t care, right? Not like-I care what you do, obviously, but it doesn’t change my opinion of you, for worse or for better.”
Mark takes a sharp breath. Now that he’s heard Eduardo say it, he can finally admit that his nerves hadn’t been because of the date, per se, but he was worried that Eduardo would treat him differently now that he knew. Mark has met plenty of tech groupies, if that’s even a thing, and they always weird him out. But now that he thinks over the hour or so and the phone conversation they had that morning, Mark realizes that Eduardo had never given him the shining eyes or breathless praise that was never for Mark himself, but for what he did. Mark never thought he would say this, but mindless adoration has gotten a bit tiring. Eduardo talked to him-is talking to him-like Mark is a real person, not just the brain behind a website.
“Thank you,” he says, not even quite sure what for, but Eduardo seems to get it. He smiles softly and grabs Mark’s hand from where he’s fidgeting with the corner of his napkin, giving it a quick, light squeeze.
At that moment, in either the best or worst display of timing ever, Mark can’t decide, the waitress comes back with their food and the moment is broken. Eduardo takes his hand back and the next few minutes are filled with eating and appreciative sounds. After their initial enthusiasm has worn off a little, Eduardo restarts the conversation, apparently satisfied with their Serious Talk.
“Did you know you can predict the price of oil just by paying attention to the weather? Someone could make a lot of money that way.” Eduardo looks down at his plate and takes another bite before looking up at Mark again with a proud grin. “I actually tracked it a couple summers ago. With the numbers I was fooling around with, I would have made three hundred grand.”
Mark whistles. “Why don’t you?”
“Mark, I work at a grocery store. I don’t exactly have a couple thousand just lying around waiting for me to invest it.”
“I know that, Wardo. I meant, like, in the future. When you do have money to invest. I’m sure you would be a great investor.”
Eduardo looks away. “You really think so?”
“I would let you invest my money.” Eduardo looks back at him, vulnerable and open. “Wardo, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You read The Economist and The Wall Street Journal religiously. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time at Safeway, you could do anything you want.”
Eduardo’s face shuts down and Mark gets the floaty, hot feeling in his stomach he always gets when he knows he said something wrong but can’t quite figure out what yet.
“It’s not that simple, Mark,” Eduardo replies. “Not all of us can make up revolutionary websites in our Harvard dorm room, and most investment firms don’t make a habit of hiring college dropouts.”
“You can go back,” Mark shrugs.
Eduardo raises an eyebrow. “I’m planning on it. That’s what the job at Safeway is for. Well, after rent, groceries, you know, the things I spend most of my paycheck on. College isn’t cheap, Mark, especially not-not where I want to go.”
Mark opens his mouth and stops. He looks down at his plate and sighs. “I’m being an asshole about this, aren’t I?” He looks up at Eduardo again, who stops looking angry and grins ruefully instead.
“Yeah, you kind of are.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark says softly, fighting his impulse to look away. Eduardo snorts and starts honest-to-god giggling, running a hand over his face.
“God, you look like a kicked puppy, stop it. It’s okay, I know what people think of my job. I-” He stops, looks away, and bites his lip. He takes a deep breath, and wipes his hands on his thighs nervously before turning back to Mark. “I went to Stanford for a year.”
“You what?” Mark isn’t surprised, exactly. Eduardo had mentioned before that he had briefly gone to college, but Mark had no idea it had been Stanford. He isn’t surprised; he knows Eduardo would have been successful at college in the way that Mark never really was-classes, extracurriculars, social groups, all of it.
“I had to take an ‘extended leave of absence,’ but it feels pretty permanent at the moment. I can’t just go to community college, though, not after that. My father-it was always-” Eduardo stops again to collect himself, and this time it’s Mark’s turn to put his fork down and reach for Eduardo’s hand. “When I was eight, we moved from Brazil to Miami. About a year after that, my father made some bad investments and we lost a lot of money. We moved out here to start over, but we never got back to the same place we were. When I graduated high school, I was lucky enough to get a partial scholarship at Stanford, and it was just barely enough to make it possible. It was-amazing, everything I had hoped for, and I really thought-” Eduardo broke off and shut his eyes tightly for a minute.
“You don’t have to-” Mark starts, but Eduardo shakes his head.
“It’s okay, I-I want to tell you.” He takes another breath, seems to brace himself, and begins again. “The summer after my freshman year, my mother got sick. Basically, it came down to tuition or hospital bills, and by the time she-she passed away, I was working at Safeway and supporting myself so my parents wouldn’t have to worry about it on top of everything else.”
“Shit, Eduardo. I’m sorry.” Mark hates the inadequacy of his response, but he can’t think of anything else to say.
“It’s fine. It’s been a couple years, and-I’m not over it, obviously, but I can talk about it. And I want you to know.” He sniffs, then huffs out a weak laugh. “This is probably the heaviest first date I’ve ever been on.”
Mark tries to smile. “If you count all the times I sat with you on your breaks, this is probably date seven or eight.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I wanted them to be,” Mark says, surprising himself with his frank honesty. Eduardo doesn’t say anything, but his face lights up, and Mark can’t help but return the smile.
The rest of their meal passes uneventfully. They settle into easy conversation, trading stories and bad jokes. Eduardo bumps his foot against Mark’s under the table to emphasize his particularly terrible punch lines, and the last time he does it he leaves it there. They get coffee and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert, but both of them are too full to do much besides pick at it. When they finally get the check, Eduardo moves for his wallet, but Mark stops him with a look.
Eduardo grabs Mark’s hand as they walk to where he parked on the street and doesn’t let go when they reach the car. He settles against the passenger door and slides his hand up to Mark’s wrist, reeling him in close with a slight tug.
“I had a really nice time,” he says, soft and serious. Mark might laugh at how cliché it all is, but he’s too caught up in the warmth radiating from Eduardo’s body and the warmth in his dark eyes. Mark watches as they flicker briefly downwards, and he can’t stand it any longer. Mark fits his fingers along Eduardo’s jawline and presses upwards to meet his mouth. Eduardo’s lips part beneath his and they are soft and warm, and it is the most perfect kiss Mark could ever imagine. It’s short, not much more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls back, Eduardo’s smile takes over his entire face and Mark ducks his head.
Eduardo gives Mark’s hand one last squeeze as Mark steps back and around to the driver’s side of the car. They both get in, but Mark catches Eduardo’s eye as they’re buckling their seatbelts and they just kind of smile helplessly at each other for a minute before Mark finally starts the car. Later, he doesn’t remember anything from the drive to Eduardo’s apartment. They keep glancing at each other, and at one red light Eduardo reaches up and grabs Mark’s right hand from the steering wheel, tangling their fingers together against the gearshift. Mark’s glad, because it gives him something to hold on to so he doesn’t reach up to touch his lips in disbelief like some chick in a teen movie after getting kissed for the first time.
When Mark parks the car outside Eduardo’s building, it’s Eduardo who pulls him in without hesitation, capturing Mark’s lips in a kiss that starts sweet but quickly turns heated. Mark’s breath hitches as Eduardo licks into his mouth. His tongue is slick and hot and Mark can’t get enough, but the gearshift is digging into his stomach where he’s leaning across the center console. More importantly, Mark isn’t sure if he wants this to go any further tonight. He’s never been patient, but the night has gone so well, he wants to keep it perfect. He might actually turn into a walking cliché for thinking it, but Eduardo is worth the wait. Even before he made it Facebook’s motto, Mark’s always been a move fast and break things kind of guy, but he wants to be careful with this, so even though it takes all of his self-control, he pulls back after a few minutes.
“Do you want to come up?” Eduardo breathes, and oh god, he does, but.
“Next time?” Mark counters, and Eduardo kisses him hard and quick, looking even happier.
“Next time,” he repeats back, and climbs out of the car. He pauses with one hand on the open door and one on the roof of the car, bending down to look at Mark again. “Call me tomorrow?” he asks with a hint of uncertainty, as if Mark might not want to see him tomorrow, or the next day, or basically every day as long as it’s physically possible. It’s only the end of their first real date and Mark is already addicted to the slick press of Eduardo’s mouth against his, how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, his habit of talking with ever-more expansive gestures when he talks about anything he cares about from economic theory to the Weather Channel and Lord of the Rings.
“Of course I’ll call you tomorrow. That’s not even a question,” Mark replies.
Eduardo laughs a little. “Okay. Well then, good night, Mark,” he says as he straightens up and starts to shut the door.
“Night, Wardo,” he replies. Mark stays to make sure Eduardo gets into his building okay, so he sees it perfectly when he does this goofy spin move as he opens his door and goes inside. Mark laughs quietly as he shifts out of park, already looking forward to tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the next day brings Dustin bursting into his office just before lunch. He flops down in the chair opposite Mark’s desk, clutching his chest in exaggerated something-it’s Dustin, who knows.
“I am betrayed,” he cries. Mark rolls his eyes. “No, seriously. You went on a date with your grocery store hottie and I find out from Chris-not even our Chris, but Chris from Accounting. That is the opposite of chill, dude.”
Mark rolls his eyes again, but then the rest of Dustin’s comment sinks in. “Wait, Chris from Accounting knows I went on a date with Wardo?” Dustin’s eyes fill with unholy glee at the nickname, but before he can say anything, Chris-real Chris-walks in and slams the door behind him.
“Whoa there Chris, Mark’s becoming a real boy. We should be encouraging that, not punishing him, or whatever that face is for, that is not a good face. And yeah, I have no idea how he knew, which brings me back to the original point. Why does other-Chris know you went on a date yesterday when I, your oldest and best friend, had no idea you even got past stammering at him through a haze of oblivious lust?”
“I think you mispronounced ‘youngest’ there. Because you’re an infant,” Mark half-heartedly quips, but his attention is redirected when Chris yanks his laptop from him and turns it around, typing furiously. Dustin’s mouthing eight days at Mark, but he stops and his eyes grow wide as he looks at what Chris is doing. Mark understands his shock when Chris turns the computer back to face Mark.
He has a Valleywag article pulled up with the headline “Mark Zuckerberg Changes Relationship Status?” and a pictures of him and Eduardo outside the restaurant the night before. Mark skims the article quickly before scrolling more carefully through the pictures. They don’t have any actual information, it’s all speculation about Mark and the “unknown man” with him. The pictures are pretty damning, though. They have one of them holding hands leaving the restaurant and another of them next to the car. They didn’t post a picture of them kissing, though Mark is sure they must have one if they have these, but Mark’s hand is on Eduardo’s face and Eduardo’s hand is circling Mark’s other wrist; their bodies are tilted toward each other and it’s obvious enough.
It’s an incredibly sweet picture, actually, if you ignore the fact that it was taken by a creepy paparazzo. It’s close enough that you can distinguish their expressions, a mixture of radiant happiness and anticipation on both of their faces.
“What do you want me to do, Mark?” Chris asks, breaking him out of his reverie.
“What do you mean?” Mark can’t even think right now.
“We can issue a statement, if you want. We could try to sue them, but you don’t exactly have the best track record with lawsuits. I could definitely get the article taken down, but it’s been up for a few hours by now, so that would probably make it worse. I could probably get whoever wrote the article fired.” Chris pauses, but Mark doesn’t answer. “I should get whoever wrote that headline fired, I’d be doing them a favor,” he mutters in disgust after a minute.
That surprises a grim bark of laughter out of Dustin. “God, it’s fucking awful, isn’t it?”
“No comment,” Mark finally says.
“Wait, you don’t actually think it’s a good headline, do you?” Dustin asks incredulously.
“No, you idiot. I don’t care about the fucking headline. No comment on the article, on all of it. That’s how I want you to handle this,” Mark says to Chris.
“Are you sure? I mean, this is a pretty big deal, it’s not going to just go away if you don’t say anything. Especially if you keep dating Eduardo.”
“Look, I don’t want to be a poster boy and I do not want Eduardo dragged into the spotlight. He didn’t sign up for it and it’s not fair to him at all. So no comment, on any of it.”
“Okay. We can do that. Just, be careful, okay?” Mark can almost see Chris switch from PR Mode into Friend Mode, and all of his anger-at Valleywag, not at Mark, he only now realizes-melts away into concern. “And if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “Yeah, in my office, apparently. Now get out of here, both of you. I have work to do.”
“Okay, okay, we get the picture,” Dustin whines as he bounces out of his chair and towards the door. Chris follows him, but Mark stops him before he leaves.
“Chris, I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t exactly how I would have liked like the day after our first date to go, but I can deal with it. It would have come out eventually, but I had hoped we would have more time. I just-Eduardo doesn’t deserve to have his life examined and dragged through the press simply because I got him to go on a date with me.”
“No, he doesn’t. I’ll do my best.”
“You always do.”
Chris smiles softly. “You know, you’re a good guy, Mark, even if you try not to be.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Mark says, and Chris grins.
“Right, fucking off now,” he says, and finally, finally leaves Mark in peace. If he uses that blessed quiet to save the two pictures to his desktop and stare at them until he’s memorized every last detail, well, he’s CEO, bitch, he can do what he wants.
part 3
Chris is not as subtle as he thinks he is. So when he walks into Mark’s office and spares a considering glance at the wall of windows that look out into the bullpen before sitting down on the other side of his desk, Mark gears himself up for a difficult conversation. Chris not only has his Serious Business face on, with bonus sides of worry and puzzlement, he doesn’t usually care if their occasional confrontations have witnesses-he thinks it’s good for the employees to know their CEO is human and sometimes makes mistakes and gets yelled at-so the fact that he even thought about closing the blinds means that this is definitely not a conversation Mark wants to have. Finally, Chris is looking at him like he doesn’t quite know where to start, and Chris is never at a loss for words. He’s been living and breathing Facebook PR for so long, Mark suspects he even writes out the lectures he gives Mark whenever he screws something up for maximum effect, clarity, and efficiency. And Chris and Mark could probably have one of their try-to-be-a-real-boy-and-not-a-coding-robot conversations in their sleep at this point, so it’s not that either. Mark is just starting to get worried that something finally broke Chris-worried both at the prospect of a broken Chris and about the absolute disaster that could have broken him-when Chris finally speaks up.
“You look like death, Mark. You should have stayed home.”
“I stayed home sick for the last two days, and I was going crazy. And I feel better,” Mark starts to say before he erupts in a coughing fit. Traitors, he thinks at his lungs. Chris just raises an eyebrow. “Anyways,” Mark continues, “I’m busy. Doing important CEO things,” and he turns back to the paperwork on his desk. It’s just contracts he needs to sign-CEO busywork he’ll never get used to-and Chris knows it.
“If you were actually interested in what you’re doing, it would have taken me at least two more tries to get your attention,” Chris says.
“Fine,” Mark sighs. “I know you didn’t come here to lecture me about my health again, because you did that enough yesterday. So what do you want?”
“Why didn’t you tell Eduardo you’re the CEO of Facebook?”
Mark freezes. He knew this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but he had never imagined Chris would ambush him with this. He presses his lips together and spins his chair a little to stare at the corner of his desk.
“Come on Mark, really? You’re not going to talk about this?” Chris huffs out an exasperated sigh and ruffles a hand through his hair. “Think of it as practice. I bet Eduardo’s going to want to talk about it at your next little grocery store date.”
“They’re not-wait, he knows?”
“Yeah, he knows. How did you think I knew that he didn’t know? Before I told him, that is.”
“You told him?” Mark bites out, spinning back to glare at Chris.
“It just happened! Accidentally. It’s not like I knew that you hadn’t told him that you invented Facebook! Jesus, Mark, you usually can’t wait to pull that card. And with the way Dustin was practically puking rainbows and planning your wedding last week, how was I supposed to know Eduardo didn’t know what you do every day for a living?”
Mark deflates. “What am I supposed to say? You’re right and I screwed up? I know I should have told him. I should have told him the truth when I said I worked with computers. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that no matter how much you yell at me. So can you please just-stop? Believe me, I’ve already yelled at myself enough. Now, I’m busy, and I’m sure you have important things to do, so can you go do them? Preferably somewhere else.”
Chris does not leave, in the surprise of the century, but Mark has had years of practice in ignoring his significant looks, so he simply turns back to signing paperwork, if a little more forcefully than before. After a tense minute, Chris breaks.
“Mark, look, I’m sorry that I accidentally told Eduardo that you invented Facebook. But I did, and he knows, so now we need to plan a course of action.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “I didn’t molest him or anything, so there’s really no need to pull out your precious NDAs.”
“What-NDAs-Mark, what are you talking about?”
“Course of action? I assume that’s what you meant. After all, that’s your job, right? Clean up after my fuck-ups.”
Chris crumples in on himself a little. “Mark, no. First off, that’s not-that’s not what I do. Okay, yes, as head of Facebook PR it does fall to me to-smooth things over sometimes, but that’s not-and anyways, second, you did not fuck this up. I promise. By course of action, I meant how we are going to get him to date you.”
Mark can’t help himself from looking up at Chris, and he’s past caring to hide the hope and surprise on his face as Chris’ words echo in his head. “You think I still have a chance?”
Chris grins. “Maybe. But probably not without my help. I already knew you were emotionally constipated, and after talking to Eduardo yesterday, I don’t know if he’ll ever get the guts to make a move. So obviously you need a solid plan, and luckily you have at your disposal Chris Hughes, ‘Most Awesomest Planner,’ according to the plaque on my desk.”
Mark grimaces at the memory of Dustin armed with a label-maker. It was a harrowing two days before Chris finally managed to confiscate it while Dustin was napping in the game room. They still sometimes find more misspelled, asinine labels on random objects around the office.
“You already have a plan, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah. You’re going to call him, apologize for lying, and ask him out on a date.”
Mark waits to hear the rest, which doesn’t come. “Wait, that’s it?” he finally asks.
“Yes, that’s it. He’s pretty stupid for you, so it won’t take much groveling. Honestly, I’m not sure it will take any groveling, but you still should, it’s good form.”
“I don’t even have his phone number,” Mark says petulantly.
“You forget that I know you all too well,” Chris says, and he slaps a post-it note on Mark’s desk. Mark picks it up, his thumb tracing the ten digits on it.
“How did you get this?” he asks.
Chris just gets this smug grin and nods towards Mark’s desk phone. “Call him.”
“Okay, I will.” He turns back to his paperwork, but Chris doesn’t leave. “What, right now?” Mark asks.
“Yes, right now, because otherwise I know you’ll talk yourself out of it.” When Mark still doesn’t make a move towards his phone, Chris does, grabbing the post-it note out of Mark’s hand and punching it into the handset. Halfway through, he pauses and sighs.
“Mark, you know I’m not trying to be a dick about this. I like Eduardo, and you seem really happy whenever you talk about him. For the last few years, your main emotions have hovered somewhere between coding and stressed out. You were happy when we got Thiel’s investment and when we hit a million members, and even that only lasted until Sean fucked up. You’ve done this huge, amazing thing. Facebook’s good, Mark, it’s thriving and it’s not going anywhere. You deserve something good just for yourself.” He finishes dialing and puts it on speaker.
“Speaker, really?” Mark says as the phone starts ringing, but Chris just gives him one of his evil little shrug and grin combos, and then Eduardo picks up.
“Hello, this is Eduardo.”
“Hi, Eduardo, it’s Mark. From the grocery store.”
“Mark? What’s up? Um, also, how did you get this number?”
“I got it from Chris, and I don’t even want to know how he got it.”
“Right, yeah, probably for the best.” Eduardo sounds a little nervous.
“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Mark says in a rush. He looks at Chris, who’s mouthing apologize at him. “I want-I need to talk to you, and I want to apologize, but I want to do it in person.”
“Yeah, yes of course, sure, Mark. Is tonight too soon? I have a night off.”
“No, tonight’s perfect. I can pick you up at seven.”
“Sure, I’ll send you my address on Facebook.” There’s a funny noise on the other end, like Eduardo fumbled his phone. “I-I mean-”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Mark says, and then they both pause.
“Mark, you’re-is this-this is a date, right?” Eduardo finally says, and Mark smiles helplessly at Chris.
“Yes. If you want it to be,” he replies.
“Good. I mean, yes, I do. I’ll see you at seven?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you at seven. Bye, Wardo.” Chris hangs up the phone, then throws his arms up in some kind of victory wave, but Mark doesn’t even care. Chris finally gets up to leave, but right before he walks out the door Mark speaks up.
“Look, Chris. Thank you. For making me do this.”
Chris smiles softly. “You’re welcome. And good luck tonight,” he replies, and then walks out, leaving Mark smiling at his paperwork, finally letting himself think about Eduardo.
Mark gets a Facebook message less than five minutes later with an address and a phone number, signed Can’t wait :) -E. He barely gets anything done the rest of the day, too excited and nervous to focus. He tries to wire in during the afternoon and only sort of succeeds; he writes some good code, but he’s hyper-aware of the time, panicking every half hour or so that he’ll lose track of how long he’s been working and accidentally stand Eduardo up. But he doesn’t, and he manages to sneak out of the office at 5:30.
He drives home, takes a quick shower and then still has 45 minutes before he has to leave. He ends up sitting on his bed with his laptop, shirtless-he spent three minutes staring at his closet and then gave up before the feeling that he was a ridiculous teenage girl got to be too much-just dicking around on the internet. He checks a few webcomics and starts an argument about, like, global warming or something with a douchebag on some random forum just to burn off some of his nervous energy.
Finally, he looks at the clock again and realizes he needs to leave now, and then he has to try to button up the first shirt he grabs out of his closet while brushing his teeth and tying his shoes-no matter what Dustin says, Mark does know enough to not wear his flip-flops on a fucking first date-all at the same time.
He has to speed a little on the way over, but he manages to pull up to Eduardo’s apartment building at 6:58. Eduardo actually lives only about fifteen minutes away from Mark, but it’s definitely a different part of town. It’s not a bad neighborhood, just a bit more run-down than Mark’s, where most people have either owned their houses for a few decades or are on the generously wealthy side of upper middle class. But quite a few of the apartments in Eduardo’s building have window boxes with flowers, and there are two plastic trikes in the grass, and it looks nice-the kind of place where you can ask your neighbor for a cup of sugar or to watch your kid for ten minutes while you run to the corner store. Mark doesn’t really know what to do with his neighbors and their invitations to dinner parties and wine tastings, offered in the awkward moments when he is getting his mail or caught watering the hostas his mom planted when she helped him move in.
Mark sits in his car until the clock ticks over to seven exactly, then pulls out his phone and carefully dials the number he entered into his contacts that afternoon. It rings three times before Eduardo picks up with a breathless “Hello?”
“Wardo, hey. It’s Mark. I’m outside your building. Um, you didn’t give me your apartment number, so I’m just sitting in my car. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Cool, just give me one minute and I’ll be right down.”
Mark almost hangs up-he hates goodbyes, especially superfluous ones-but instead says, “Okay, see you soon.”
“Yeah,” Eduardo replies, and he sounds like he does when he can’t stop his stupid smile from spreading all over the place. “Okay, one minute,” he adds, then hangs up on Mark.
Mark’s not counting, but it feels simultaneously like half a second and five years before the door to Eduardo’s building bangs open. Mark’s mouth goes dry as he takes in the fit of Eduardo’s dark jeans and the line of his open collar, black against his golden skin. He should probably get out and open the car door for him or something, but he can’t exactly think at the moment, let alone move. He had already known the effect Eduardo’s general attractiveness had on him, but now, out of his uniform and about to go on a date with Mark, with all the possibilities that implies, he is unfairly perfect.
Eduardo climbs in the car; Mark probably should have thought about this more, because he says, “Hello, Eduardo,” weirdly formal and awkward as hell, especially considering the fact that he’s still gripping the steering wheel with an almost white-knuckle grip. Eduardo’s smile slips for a moment, but then it turns softer, indulgent.
“Hello, Mark,” he says back. Mark is about to turn back front when Eduardo raises his eyebrows a bit and adds, “Mark Zuckerberg,” because of course, all Mark’s ever wanted is yet another person who won’t put up with his bullshit.
Mark can tell the back of his neck is getting flushed, but he manages to keep the rest of his embarrassment under wraps. He thinks. Eduardo is grinning obnoxiously though, so probably not, after all. “Can we just wait until dinner? I promise I will explain-no, apologize. And explain, but Chris has told me more times than I want to remember that explanations are not apologies. Normally I don’t care, but this time I really do have something to apologize for, and I need to do it right. Not sitting in my car, which I probably should have cleaned up a bit before I picked you up.” Because Mark is just now noticing that there is a mess of receipts and change in one of the cup holders and an empty Mountain Dew can in the other, and his backseat is covered in map books, CD wallets, what may or may not be important paperwork, and even a couple hoodies tangled together around one of those ice scraper-brush things, and why does he even have one of those, it doesn’t even snow in California. Okay, he’s probably a lot more nervous than he let himself feel before.
He starts a little when Eduardo lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mark, it’s okay. Just breathe, and then we can go eat and talk, and everything will be okay. All right?”
Mark breathes, in and out, and then again, before unclenching his hands from the steering wheel and starting his car. Eduardo nods, making an approving noise, turns to buckle his seatbelt, and then they’re off. To their first date.
During the drive to the restaurant-Mexican, good food but not particularly fancy-they chat about little things, almost-but-not-quite small talk that would probably be awkward if not for Eduardo’s seeming ability to defuse any weird tension. He’s cheerful and earnest, and it’s infectious. By the time the waitress comes by to take their drink orders, Mark feels as comfortable as he always did sitting with Eduardo during his breaks at Safeway.
Once the waitress has come back and taken their orders, Eduardo doesn’t waste any time. “So, you’re Mark Zuckerberg, the young genius creator of Facebook, the most popular social-networking website in existence.”
Mark winces. “Well, when you say it like that,” he tries to joke, but it falls flat. It’s almost like Eduardo’s flipped a switch from having fun to Serious Conversation. He doesn’t look particularly angry, though, which gives Mark the courage to continue. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry I misled-no, lied to you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why you lied. I mean, the first time, whatever; it would have been worse if you led with that. But when you said you worked with computers and just let me assume that you were, like, some flunky programmer-that, I don’t get.”
“I just-you have no idea how nice it felt to have someone that didn’t see me as the ‘young genius’ creator of Facebook. I could just be a regular guy with you. I didn’t even have to think about Facebook if I didn’t want to. Don’t get me wrong, I love Facebook and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but for the past three years, my life has basically consisted of Facebook and sleep. I mean, I hang out with Chris and Dustin a lot, but they both work for Facebook too. I think I needed a break. I was a naïve kid when I started Facebook, and I never realized how much work it takes to run a company. I can’t just hole up in my dorm room for days and wire in anymore. At Safeway with you, even if it was just for half an hour once a week, I could turn that part of my brain off and just listen to you talk about storm patterns or whatever.”
Eduardo nods thoughtfully. “I guess I get that. And I forgive you, obviously, even though I felt like an idiot after Chris told me. It’s just-you know I don’t care, right? Not like-I care what you do, obviously, but it doesn’t change my opinion of you, for worse or for better.”
Mark takes a sharp breath. Now that he’s heard Eduardo say it, he can finally admit that his nerves hadn’t been because of the date, per se, but he was worried that Eduardo would treat him differently now that he knew. Mark has met plenty of tech groupies, if that’s even a thing, and they always weird him out. But now that he thinks over the hour or so and the phone conversation they had that morning, Mark realizes that Eduardo had never given him the shining eyes or breathless praise that was never for Mark himself, but for what he did. Mark never thought he would say this, but mindless adoration has gotten a bit tiring. Eduardo talked to him-is talking to him-like Mark is a real person, not just the brain behind a website.
“Thank you,” he says, not even quite sure what for, but Eduardo seems to get it. He smiles softly and grabs Mark’s hand from where he’s fidgeting with the corner of his napkin, giving it a quick, light squeeze.
At that moment, in either the best or worst display of timing ever, Mark can’t decide, the waitress comes back with their food and the moment is broken. Eduardo takes his hand back and the next few minutes are filled with eating and appreciative sounds. After their initial enthusiasm has worn off a little, Eduardo restarts the conversation, apparently satisfied with their Serious Talk.
“Did you know you can predict the price of oil just by paying attention to the weather? Someone could make a lot of money that way.” Eduardo looks down at his plate and takes another bite before looking up at Mark again with a proud grin. “I actually tracked it a couple summers ago. With the numbers I was fooling around with, I would have made three hundred grand.”
Mark whistles. “Why don’t you?”
“Mark, I work at a grocery store. I don’t exactly have a couple thousand just lying around waiting for me to invest it.”
“I know that, Wardo. I meant, like, in the future. When you do have money to invest. I’m sure you would be a great investor.”
Eduardo looks away. “You really think so?”
“I would let you invest my money.” Eduardo looks back at him, vulnerable and open. “Wardo, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You read The Economist and The Wall Street Journal religiously. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time at Safeway, you could do anything you want.”
Eduardo’s face shuts down and Mark gets the floaty, hot feeling in his stomach he always gets when he knows he said something wrong but can’t quite figure out what yet.
“It’s not that simple, Mark,” Eduardo replies. “Not all of us can make up revolutionary websites in our Harvard dorm room, and most investment firms don’t make a habit of hiring college dropouts.”
“You can go back,” Mark shrugs.
Eduardo raises an eyebrow. “I’m planning on it. That’s what the job at Safeway is for. Well, after rent, groceries, you know, the things I spend most of my paycheck on. College isn’t cheap, Mark, especially not-not where I want to go.”
Mark opens his mouth and stops. He looks down at his plate and sighs. “I’m being an asshole about this, aren’t I?” He looks up at Eduardo again, who stops looking angry and grins ruefully instead.
“Yeah, you kind of are.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark says softly, fighting his impulse to look away. Eduardo snorts and starts honest-to-god giggling, running a hand over his face.
“God, you look like a kicked puppy, stop it. It’s okay, I know what people think of my job. I-” He stops, looks away, and bites his lip. He takes a deep breath, and wipes his hands on his thighs nervously before turning back to Mark. “I went to Stanford for a year.”
“You what?” Mark isn’t surprised, exactly. Eduardo had mentioned before that he had briefly gone to college, but Mark had no idea it had been Stanford. He isn’t surprised; he knows Eduardo would have been successful at college in the way that Mark never really was-classes, extracurriculars, social groups, all of it.
“I had to take an ‘extended leave of absence,’ but it feels pretty permanent at the moment. I can’t just go to community college, though, not after that. My father-it was always-” Eduardo stops again to collect himself, and this time it’s Mark’s turn to put his fork down and reach for Eduardo’s hand. “When I was eight, we moved from Brazil to Miami. About a year after that, my father made some bad investments and we lost a lot of money. We moved out here to start over, but we never got back to the same place we were. When I graduated high school, I was lucky enough to get a partial scholarship at Stanford, and it was just barely enough to make it possible. It was-amazing, everything I had hoped for, and I really thought-” Eduardo broke off and shut his eyes tightly for a minute.
“You don’t have to-” Mark starts, but Eduardo shakes his head.
“It’s okay, I-I want to tell you.” He takes another breath, seems to brace himself, and begins again. “The summer after my freshman year, my mother got sick. Basically, it came down to tuition or hospital bills, and by the time she-she passed away, I was working at Safeway and supporting myself so my parents wouldn’t have to worry about it on top of everything else.”
“Shit, Eduardo. I’m sorry.” Mark hates the inadequacy of his response, but he can’t think of anything else to say.
“It’s fine. It’s been a couple years, and-I’m not over it, obviously, but I can talk about it. And I want you to know.” He sniffs, then huffs out a weak laugh. “This is probably the heaviest first date I’ve ever been on.”
Mark tries to smile. “If you count all the times I sat with you on your breaks, this is probably date seven or eight.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I wanted them to be,” Mark says, surprising himself with his frank honesty. Eduardo doesn’t say anything, but his face lights up, and Mark can’t help but return the smile.
The rest of their meal passes uneventfully. They settle into easy conversation, trading stories and bad jokes. Eduardo bumps his foot against Mark’s under the table to emphasize his particularly terrible punch lines, and the last time he does it he leaves it there. They get coffee and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert, but both of them are too full to do much besides pick at it. When they finally get the check, Eduardo moves for his wallet, but Mark stops him with a look.
Eduardo grabs Mark’s hand as they walk to where he parked on the street and doesn’t let go when they reach the car. He settles against the passenger door and slides his hand up to Mark’s wrist, reeling him in close with a slight tug.
“I had a really nice time,” he says, soft and serious. Mark might laugh at how cliché it all is, but he’s too caught up in the warmth radiating from Eduardo’s body and the warmth in his dark eyes. Mark watches as they flicker briefly downwards, and he can’t stand it any longer. Mark fits his fingers along Eduardo’s jawline and presses upwards to meet his mouth. Eduardo’s lips part beneath his and they are soft and warm, and it is the most perfect kiss Mark could ever imagine. It’s short, not much more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls back, Eduardo’s smile takes over his entire face and Mark ducks his head.
Eduardo gives Mark’s hand one last squeeze as Mark steps back and around to the driver’s side of the car. They both get in, but Mark catches Eduardo’s eye as they’re buckling their seatbelts and they just kind of smile helplessly at each other for a minute before Mark finally starts the car. Later, he doesn’t remember anything from the drive to Eduardo’s apartment. They keep glancing at each other, and at one red light Eduardo reaches up and grabs Mark’s right hand from the steering wheel, tangling their fingers together against the gearshift. Mark’s glad, because it gives him something to hold on to so he doesn’t reach up to touch his lips in disbelief like some chick in a teen movie after getting kissed for the first time.
When Mark parks the car outside Eduardo’s building, it’s Eduardo who pulls him in without hesitation, capturing Mark’s lips in a kiss that starts sweet but quickly turns heated. Mark’s breath hitches as Eduardo licks into his mouth. His tongue is slick and hot and Mark can’t get enough, but the gearshift is digging into his stomach where he’s leaning across the center console. More importantly, Mark isn’t sure if he wants this to go any further tonight. He’s never been patient, but the night has gone so well, he wants to keep it perfect. He might actually turn into a walking cliché for thinking it, but Eduardo is worth the wait. Even before he made it Facebook’s motto, Mark’s always been a move fast and break things kind of guy, but he wants to be careful with this, so even though it takes all of his self-control, he pulls back after a few minutes.
“Do you want to come up?” Eduardo breathes, and oh god, he does, but.
“Next time?” Mark counters, and Eduardo kisses him hard and quick, looking even happier.
“Next time,” he repeats back, and climbs out of the car. He pauses with one hand on the open door and one on the roof of the car, bending down to look at Mark again. “Call me tomorrow?” he asks with a hint of uncertainty, as if Mark might not want to see him tomorrow, or the next day, or basically every day as long as it’s physically possible. It’s only the end of their first real date and Mark is already addicted to the slick press of Eduardo’s mouth against his, how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, his habit of talking with ever-more expansive gestures when he talks about anything he cares about from economic theory to the Weather Channel and Lord of the Rings.
“Of course I’ll call you tomorrow. That’s not even a question,” Mark replies.
Eduardo laughs a little. “Okay. Well then, good night, Mark,” he says as he straightens up and starts to shut the door.
“Night, Wardo,” he replies. Mark stays to make sure Eduardo gets into his building okay, so he sees it perfectly when he does this goofy spin move as he opens his door and goes inside. Mark laughs quietly as he shifts out of park, already looking forward to tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the next day brings Dustin bursting into his office just before lunch. He flops down in the chair opposite Mark’s desk, clutching his chest in exaggerated something-it’s Dustin, who knows.
“I am betrayed,” he cries. Mark rolls his eyes. “No, seriously. You went on a date with your grocery store hottie and I find out from Chris-not even our Chris, but Chris from Accounting. That is the opposite of chill, dude.”
Mark rolls his eyes again, but then the rest of Dustin’s comment sinks in. “Wait, Chris from Accounting knows I went on a date with Wardo?” Dustin’s eyes fill with unholy glee at the nickname, but before he can say anything, Chris-real Chris-walks in and slams the door behind him.
“Whoa there Chris, Mark’s becoming a real boy. We should be encouraging that, not punishing him, or whatever that face is for, that is not a good face. And yeah, I have no idea how he knew, which brings me back to the original point. Why does other-Chris know you went on a date yesterday when I, your oldest and best friend, had no idea you even got past stammering at him through a haze of oblivious lust?”
“I think you mispronounced ‘youngest’ there. Because you’re an infant,” Mark half-heartedly quips, but his attention is redirected when Chris yanks his laptop from him and turns it around, typing furiously. Dustin’s mouthing eight days at Mark, but he stops and his eyes grow wide as he looks at what Chris is doing. Mark understands his shock when Chris turns the computer back to face Mark.
He has a Valleywag article pulled up with the headline “Mark Zuckerberg Changes Relationship Status?” and a pictures of him and Eduardo outside the restaurant the night before. Mark skims the article quickly before scrolling more carefully through the pictures. They don’t have any actual information, it’s all speculation about Mark and the “unknown man” with him. The pictures are pretty damning, though. They have one of them holding hands leaving the restaurant and another of them next to the car. They didn’t post a picture of them kissing, though Mark is sure they must have one if they have these, but Mark’s hand is on Eduardo’s face and Eduardo’s hand is circling Mark’s other wrist; their bodies are tilted toward each other and it’s obvious enough.
It’s an incredibly sweet picture, actually, if you ignore the fact that it was taken by a creepy paparazzo. It’s close enough that you can distinguish their expressions, a mixture of radiant happiness and anticipation on both of their faces.
“What do you want me to do, Mark?” Chris asks, breaking him out of his reverie.
“What do you mean?” Mark can’t even think right now.
“We can issue a statement, if you want. We could try to sue them, but you don’t exactly have the best track record with lawsuits. I could definitely get the article taken down, but it’s been up for a few hours by now, so that would probably make it worse. I could probably get whoever wrote the article fired.” Chris pauses, but Mark doesn’t answer. “I should get whoever wrote that headline fired, I’d be doing them a favor,” he mutters in disgust after a minute.
That surprises a grim bark of laughter out of Dustin. “God, it’s fucking awful, isn’t it?”
“No comment,” Mark finally says.
“Wait, you don’t actually think it’s a good headline, do you?” Dustin asks incredulously.
“No, you idiot. I don’t care about the fucking headline. No comment on the article, on all of it. That’s how I want you to handle this,” Mark says to Chris.
“Are you sure? I mean, this is a pretty big deal, it’s not going to just go away if you don’t say anything. Especially if you keep dating Eduardo.”
“Look, I don’t want to be a poster boy and I do not want Eduardo dragged into the spotlight. He didn’t sign up for it and it’s not fair to him at all. So no comment, on any of it.”
“Okay. We can do that. Just, be careful, okay?” Mark can almost see Chris switch from PR Mode into Friend Mode, and all of his anger-at Valleywag, not at Mark, he only now realizes-melts away into concern. “And if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “Yeah, in my office, apparently. Now get out of here, both of you. I have work to do.”
“Okay, okay, we get the picture,” Dustin whines as he bounces out of his chair and towards the door. Chris follows him, but Mark stops him before he leaves.
“Chris, I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t exactly how I would have liked like the day after our first date to go, but I can deal with it. It would have come out eventually, but I had hoped we would have more time. I just-Eduardo doesn’t deserve to have his life examined and dragged through the press simply because I got him to go on a date with me.”
“No, he doesn’t. I’ll do my best.”
“You always do.”
Chris smiles softly. “You know, you’re a good guy, Mark, even if you try not to be.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Mark says, and Chris grins.
“Right, fucking off now,” he says, and finally, finally leaves Mark in peace. If he uses that blessed quiet to save the two pictures to his desktop and stare at them until he’s memorized every last detail, well, he’s CEO, bitch, he can do what he wants.
part 3