(no subject)
...again. “Go, talk to her. You’re the only passably straight guy I know that reads stuff like that.”
“Okay, two points. One, you’re an ass. Two, no.”
“Three, you’re gay.”
I chew on my lip for a second, swirling coffee around in it’s ceramic home. “If, and I mean if, I do this, you stop calling me gay…”
“Done.”
“And you subscribe to Vogue.”
“Dick.”
“I just know how you like to look pretty.” I stand as I speak, gulping a preparing mix of coffee and nicotine, and walk forward. With purpose, I make my way across the room and through the mangled conversations. “I’ve never seen Gone with the Wind. I should rent that.” Huh, I haven’t either. Other snippets fill my head. I allow myself to mentally respond, and attempt to excuse myself from my nervousness.
I see her bag at her feet before any other pat. Slowing my pace, not enough for her to look up, but just enough to assess, I do analyze what little I can. No ring on her finger. A good sign. I play with my keys as I close the gap. I can smell her cigarette, I think. Maybe even perfume under it. Could be imagining it. I put my hand on her table.
She looks up.
In the span of a quick jerk, I face forward and will my feet to hurry the rest of me to the bathroom.
------
The cold water washes over my face, evaporating from the embarrassed heat painted over my cheeks.
“You, my friend, are an idiot.” I pep-talk my beaten reflection. I try to think back, at the way she looked up at me. Annoyance? Hope? What was it that her eyes were saying. I looked, or ran, away too fast, but I imagine it was raw confusion. I mean, if I were a girl, which I’m sure Jon will assure I am, and a man my size in a trench coat came up and placed a mitt on my table, confusion seems the reasonable reaction. I towel dry my face, take a deep breath, and step back into the real world.
While my hands dig holes in the bottom of my pockets, I can feel my ears redden as I tramp my path back to my seat. Jon watches the entire walk, applauding my failure.
“Wow, I mean, I’ve seen some sad things, but that…was the worst.”
“I had to use the bathroom.”
“Bull. Point is, jailbait, you lose.”
“Yeah….” I let my objection die inside and just submit to the facts. “Let’s get outta here.”
He acts like he’s looking for change, but he knows just as well as I do that it’s a mime for the sake of tradition. “Oh, hey, I’ll pay you back for the coffee.” It’s a statement, not a question.
He won’t. “Yeah, I got I.“ I stand again, reaching for my wallet with one hand, groping at the table for tab with the other. “Hold on…I gotta pee first.”
He stares at me, shaking his head slightly.
End of Chapter 1.