Across the room, two souls meet. When grace intervenes, they entwine ...
It was a meetcute. But I didn’t know that yet.
I met him at someone’s apartment for the game. Chips, salsa, some bean dip, popcorn, and ice cream. Someone had the ice cream practically flown in from a little shop in Cincinnati, OH, because there were four pints of their Buckeye Blitz. Why do I remember that? Because David turned up his nose at The OSU link, but had a spoonful nonetheless.
I don’t remember who was playing who. I remember I sat next to him. Tall. Cute. Smart -- going to grad school in physics. I nodded because what do you say to that? “I’m a professional flutist and hope to make $50k one day in an orchestra but now I teach private lessons to high school students and pick up weekend shifts at Sandy’s down the road?” Oh, right. I did say that.
And, he smiled at me like that was a perfectly normal thing to do, just like going into theoretical physics to work on atom smashing or cats in boxes or something.
And, that was it.
Until two days later, when Robert texted me.
« what’d u think of David?
» ??
« dude
« srs?
« you sat next to him for like 4 hours during the game
« you were staring
» was not
« so you do remember 🤣
Sigh. Sure, it was two days ago, of course I remembered. I didn’t realize how tall he was until he stood up. How cute he was until he smiled. Or that I hoped he’d be at Lin’s get-together next weekend.
I did the math in my head: He was in grad school, probably 22, maybe 23 if he was a first year, I was three years older. That wasn’t too much.
My phone buzzed.
« dude?!
» sorry
» was chopping sausage for dinner
« is that some gay joke thing?
I sent him a picture of my cutting board.
« ok
« so you gonna meet him?
« date?
« 1.68 children?
« picket fence
« dude! send me a copy of the ultrasound!!!
» fuck you
« you wish 😉
« straight but not narrow
« but i don’t go for the jock, dreamy type
Nothing for a few seconds, then:
« i gotchu, don’t worry
The three dots stopped coming, and I went back to slicing sausage. He was fun, sometimes got carried away. When the water boiled, I put in the pasta. Sausage in the pan to sear it a little, sauce in the pot boiling to reduce, cheese grated and ready.
I looked to my small dining table. Two placemats, two settings, one never used. Two candles, wicks white from disuse. I refused to dust them, that would be admitting something. I got out a Big Gulp bottle of red I’d gotten from Costco and poured a glass, then assembled my meal. I put on the final song from Lord of the Dance and sipped to the beautiful piccolo solo at the beginning.
Would it be wrong to want to share this with a nice man?
Dreams can reveal what is true, never losing sight of your desire ...
I woke around 10am. A school day, I had no substitute teacher duties despite sending out my bona fides to two dozen local schools. My first student wasn’t until 3pm. A sixth grader whose parents thought they would be the next James Galway but who I really wanted to wear earplugs when teaching. I normally didn’t take on students that young, it wasn’t worth anyone’s time nor money, but these parents offered triple my normal rate.
I have principles, but I’m not not a whore.
I made three egg whites with one yolk, toast, and some banana-protein pancakes. I scrolled through my phone for any missed calls or messages, emails for jobs ... nothing interesting.
Went to the gym and back at noon for lunch. That’s when I got a text from an unknown number.
« Hi. This is David.
I stared at it for a solid minute, and that’s when the honeydew cube fell off my fork and splattered into my yogurt.
I sent a text to Robert.
» did u give him my number?1??!
A few seconds later, I saw the three dots cycling. Then nothing. Then three dots, nothing, then three dots, then just:
« 😇
Fucker.
I went back to the new text.
» hi
» i’m Zander
« Hi Zander, nice to meet you. But, I guess we met already? Sunday?
» yah
» i sat next to you for hours
Fuck.
» i mean on the couch
Double-fuck!
» i mean, yes ... sunday
« 😊
I stared at that smiley face and I didn’t want to stop staring, and for some reason I realized I was also smiling.
The heart’s wants run ahead of the mind’s. He could be that guy ...
David and I talked more, but I had to finish lunch so I could get my own practicing in. This kid’s stuff, my 4:00’s, and 5:30’s. Theme song to Jurassic Park was not something I had to practice. My 4:00 was auditioning for their high school’s pit orchestra so I brushed up on “Put on a Happy Face” – the notes weren’t hard, but the rhythm was definitely enough to throw off a high school student. Their music director might have to simplify it, regardless. My 5:30 was getting ready to audition for college programs, so I focused on them more, making sure I had the fingering well in hand for Debussy’s Syrinx and could point out exactly where we needed to practice more for the grace notes and runs. He also needed to work more on his vibrato.
Dinner was left-overs. And another pour from the roughly, conservatively 50 L bottle of wine. If I didn’t find someone to share it with, it’d go bad before I finished.
I looked at my phone, and I looked at the two candles at the table. The empty chair across from me.
I picked up my phone.
» hey man, you wanna talk?
» like, phone call?
» the whole voice thing?
David didn’t respond, and I stared at it until the screen timed out and I stared at the darkness. I tried to remember if he had read receipts turned on.
I cleared the table, washed the glass, and dried it with a paper towel.
The buzz from my phone almost made me drop it. Cursing under my breath, I looked, and I grinned. Genuinely grinned, and I don’t really know why. (Yes I do.)
« Sure. Sorry, was eating dinner. Made a curry.
If ever questioned in a court room or by police, I will never admit to dialing as soon as I read his message. The phone logs might be incriminating, tho.
“Uh, hey. This is Zander.” My stomach was tied in knots and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because I left the pasta at room temperature too long last night.
“Hi. Right, this is David. Obviously.”
I paused. I hadn’t gotten further than this in my head.
“So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”
Shit! I needed to say something. Anything! “Do you like red wine?”
“Um, sure? I guess? Why?”
“Oh right. I have a big bottle of it from Costco and I can’t drink it fast enough.”
“So, you’re using it to get me drunk because you over-bought?”
“No! Sorry, that sounds really creepy when you say it that way. That’s ... that’s not what I meant. Shit. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?”
Deep breath. “Nothing. Uh ... do you want to hang out? I mean, ignore the first several sentences from this phone call. Reboot, reset button ... I thought you were cool on Sunday and thought maybe we could hang out some time. Like, get a coffee or something?”
“Sure, that sounds nice. Happy to make new friends.”
Friends. Because I hadn’t given any indication of anything else.
“Cool. Um, tomorrow? Like, 9am?”
“Sorry, I have classes. Grad school, remember? But nothing on Friday?”
“Right right, no, I didn’t forget, just forgot that there are schedules and shit. Uh, yeah, Friday. 9am. It’s a date.” Shit.
“Excuse me?”
“Friday, 9am. Can’t wait!”
“Right ... did you have a place in mind?”
“How about Seraphëm’s on 12th?”
“Sure, that’s like a block from me.”
“Really? Me too!”
“Cool.”
Yes, yes it was. For all I knew, he was in my building. No ... stop, too creepy. Don’t be a creeper.
“Uh ... was there anything else?”
Shit! “No, sorry. I uh ... no.”
“So ... see you Friday?”
“Yes! Friday morning. 9am. Seraphëm’s. I’ll be wearing dark khaki pants, black shoes, button-down navy blue shirt.”
“That is oddly specific two days out.”
Shit! “No, I know, I just want to make sure you know who to look for.”
“Dude, I did sit next to you on Sunday. I know what you look like.”
“Right. Okay, sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s cute.”
He called me cute?
“Good night, Zander.”
“Night!”
The line went silent and I saw he’d hung up. Smooth. Real smooth, Zander.
Where fantasy lives, truth can be found, if only we agree to recognize it ...
The dreams I had were intense. Very.
I hadn’t had a wet dream since I was ... no, never. I woke up and it took me a few minutes to figure out what had happened. I showered before the gym and jerked off with the spray coming down and suds cascading across my skin. I closed my eyes and smiled, and I came faster than the hot water ran out which, in my apartment, said something about whatever was going through my head.
The same thing happened that night, so I was glad I’d set my alarm for 6:30am. I showered, made breakfast, got to the gym, and showered again. Spritzed on some cologne that I paid way too much for so had to use. I then stared at my clothes. Dark khakis, black shoes, some hot briefs, and my button-down navy blue shirt. He already probably thought I was a weirdo. Should I do a different shirt so he wouldn’t think I planned out my clothes days in advance? But then he might think I did it purposely so he wouldn’t think that. So to get him to not-not think that I should ...
Cute smile, cute clothes, handsome watch, dressing on the nose. Sand-blond hair with a lazy wave ...
I sat down. I looked at my phone, it was 8:35. I didn’t have time for this. I put the clothes on, and then wondered if it was crazy to accessorize. For a coffee date. Not date. A meet. Meeting. For a new friend.
On an Alaskan cruise, I’d picked up a small gold nugget in a simple gold setting, and a gold-plated silver chain. I tried it on. It was mostly invisible, and without an undershirt it came out from my neck and hugged the contours of my pecs. I undid one more button. I adjusted its length on the chain, and the tiny nugget sat just at the top of the opening, against my sternum.
No. I took it off. Wearing a literal nugget of gold to a coffee meetup? Fuck no. I looked at my two other necklaces and decided on the silver one. A simple chain, laid nicely across my neck, followed my chest, and I still kept the extra button undone.
Watch or no watch? I already had a smart watch for my gym tracking, but I took that off. I wanted to wear something nicer, and I didn’t want to wear two watches. That would be ... weird. I had one alternative. I opened the case to my Breitling. My parents had gotten it for me for my high school graduation. It was simple, but it cost more than my first car. The hour markings were a rainbow array and the hour, minute, and second hands were orange, green, and blue.
When I’d come out at 15, they’d told me they loved me no matter what. I think every gay kid hears that and wants to accept it, and maybe most do. When they got me that watch, I knew they had meant it. I put it on, and then realized the yellow band went fabulously with the navy shirt. I wasn’t one of those fashion gays, but sometimes it just falls into place.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Bared my teeth. Flossed, guzzled mouthwash, did a quick brush. I shook my head. No ... I needed product. I ran a brush through my dirty blond, wavy hair and then put some hair clay in my hands, rubbing my fingers together. Just a little. I hated when stray strands got in my eyes, and I didn’t need to constantly be brushing it out of my face on this date.
This meeting. Just a coffee.
I washed my hands, and I looked at the watch. 8:48.
I grabbed my phone and ran out the door, then walked, just in case he was coming and I didn’t want him to think I was running to meet him.
Across the room, two souls meet. After grace intervenes, they follow their hearts ...
The shop was mostly empty, which was good for my purposes. The angelic beauty behind the counter smiled at me.
“Hey Zander.”
“Hi Monica.”
“The usual?”
“No, not yet. I’m meeting someone.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
I looked at her.
“Oh please gurl. I’m not stupid.” She stared into my eyes after rolling hers. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. I’ll come by when he sits with you. Take your orders. Personally. I got you.”
My lips shifted out of sync with each other, and I couldn’t say anything, so I just nodded. She shooed me away, and I found a table in a corner, in view of the door.
A few minutes later – I resisted the urge to look at my watch – I saw David enter. My mouth dropped. Black shoes, khaki pants, and a navy blue button-down shirt.
He looked around, scanning the café, and when he saw me his head bobbed, and he walked my way. Monica’s eyebrows went up, and she mouthed something. I want to imagine it was, “He’s hot!” but that was almost certainly my imagination.
By the time he was at the table, I’d stood, and I pulled out the other chair for him.
“Wow, pulling out all the stops. So chivalrous!”
“Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean ...”
He looked at me and smiled. “Zander, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
Monica saved me, coming up with a piece of paper that looked like it was pulled from a post-it note pad. This place didn’t do table service.
“Wow, you two here for some convention?”
I glared at her; so much for the save.
She fake-chewed some gum. “Same clothes?” She shrugged.
David winked at me, and I wanted to crawl under the chair.
“What’ll it be you two?” she asked.
“I’ll have a latte with a pump of caramel,” David said.
“And you, hon?” she turned to me.
I tried so hard not to roll my eyes. She knew exactly what I drank, and now she was acting like a New York diner waitress. She was even doing the hip thing.
“I’ll have an Americano with a pump of vanilla.” My eyes shot to David, then back to her. “And caramel.”
“Got it, I’ll be back in a few. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Fuck!
David looked at me, a wry smile on his face. “She seemed ... interesting.”
I put my head in my hand. My meetcute, ruined by Monica. I’d never live this down!
“Oh hey, nice watch.”
I lifted my head, arm and wrist staying in the same spot. An out!
“Thanks. It’s a—”
“Breitling. Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you. But yah, I know. Watches are a bit of a hobby of mine. Could never afford one like that, though.”
I put my arm on the table, wrist closer to his side than mine, and he was looking at it. “Thanks. Me neither. My parents got it for me for high school graduation.”
He looked up at me. “Wow, that must be nice.”
“It was, but ... ?”
“Supportive parents.”
The rainbow! “Oh. Shit. I’m ... I’m sorry.”
He breathed deeply. “It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with things. They do them, and I do me, and ... other people do them, and ... that’s life.”
I looked into his brown eyes framed by dark hair with a soft side part and one lock deliciously just above his left eyebrow. I could tell that wasn’t the whole story. But if that’s the story for now, that’s what mattered.
I cleared my throat. “So, David. What do you do?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Physics grad student. You know that.”
“Right! No, I mean, uh, what do you want to do. With that.”
“I’m still figuring that out. I’m a second year, so I have comps coming up, and my research project is helping build a prototype instrument for muon tomography that would be ten times more sensitive at half the size as current versions.”
I blinked at him.
He smiled.
“I know. I might be a twink, but I can still use big words!”
“Shit no, sorry. That was the farthest thing from my mind!”
He reached out and put his hand on mine and I resisted the urge to purr. “It’s okay. I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s fun because you look sweet when you get flustered.”
I couldn’t figure out what to say to that, but thankfully that’s when Monica came back and put the coffees on the table. “Latte, caramel; and Americano, with two big pumps,” she winked at me. I glared at her.
“Thanks,” David said, looking at her, then to me. I looked in the cups: Monica had made a simple leaf in mine, but a massive, pulsating heart in David’s. He didn’t look at it as picked up the cup and sipped, smiled, and put it back down.
“I’ll convert from science twink to jock—”
“I’m not a jock!”
He looked at me, dubiously. “Never played sports,” I said. “I just like to watch football. I do work out, but I’m a flutist. Seriously!”
“Fine, fine. It was kinda a compliment on your nice muscles anyway, but sure. Anyway, muon tomography uses naturally occurring radiation – from space –” he pointed up and nodded emphatically, like I didn’t know where space was, “to generate 3D images of things you can’t otherwise probe, based on how they scatter when they interact with things on Earth. So, for example, we can probe the structure of the pyramids with it without needing to go inside or blow stuff up with big-jock energy.”
“Wow.”
He nodded, and he took another sip of his coffee. I gulped mine.
“What do you do for fun?” he asked.
“I actually do enjoy working out, but also hanging with friends, I like to cook, board games, movies, hiking, traveling, I do some free writing like romance stories ... just stuff. I mean, life’s short, gotta enjoy it, right? Try new things?”
He was holding his coffee in both hands, near his lips as he sipped more. “So how come a nice guy like you is still single?”
I turned red again, and he had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You don’t have to answer that, I just wanted the reaction again.”
“How come you’re single?” I put the question back to him.
His lips fell and he put the cup back on the table, looking at it rather than me.
“No, I take it back. You don’t need to tell me. Sorry.”
He waved his wrist. “No, it’s fine. I uh, I just ...” he looked at my eyes. “It’s hard sometimes, you know? Hard to meet people, hard to figure out who you are, what you want, or who you want to be. I feel like sometimes I meet the guy who will be Mr. Right, but then it doesn’t work. I say something or he does and it’s just not a thing that works after that.”
“Like what?” Fuck. Sometimes I don’t know when to shut up.
“Like ... well, I’m gay.”
“Hey! Me too!”
He rolled his eyes. “But I’m also religious. I think things can coexist, like, I’ve studied it a lot and know why I believe what I do, but a lot of people are either-or.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I’m fine with that. I don’t really have specific beliefs, but I think this isn’t ‘it,’ this isn’t everything there is. Be that a god or gods or higher-dimensional beings, the Q continuum, whatever, I’m open.”
He smiled and took another sip. “See? You’re already further along than every single one of my exes.”
I smiled at him. “How far did they get? Fuck! I mean, sorry. No, I did not just say that.”
He looked at me and smiled. “You’re fine. It’s fine. We’re gay, it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the double entendre, and this is a date.”
I looked at him.
“It was a nice try to change ‘date’ to ‘wait,’ but I have good hearing.”
I turned red yet again.
“Zander, you’re fine. I like that you ‘let your hair down’ for me.” He reached over and put his hand on the side of my face, brushing against my hair and I almost cooed. He withdrew his hand in under a second.
“But it looks like my coffee is done, and so is yours.”
I looked down at the two cups and realized he was right.
I looked up into his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“That means, cute jockboy, that you can invite me over to help with that wine. Some time soon, even.”
I beamed at him, and he smiled.
“You wanna go for a walk? There’s a park nearby.”
“Just a sec.” I took out my phone and scrolled quickly through my calendar to double-check. Nothing until 4pm.
I put my phone down and looked back to him. “I’d love that.”
We pushed back our chairs simultaneously, standing, and I gestured for him to start since he was closer to the door. He turned and walked, and Monica caught my eye. I forgot to pay! She looked at me and shook her head, and then she blew me a kiss. She made a fist and extended her pinky and thumb, held them to her ear and mouth, and mouthed, “Call me!”
I nodded. David held the door open for me, smiling. I walked out, he came with me, and he took my hand. We started to walk to the park, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Hey all! I wanted to try something very different, now that I have an open slot for Monday and my collab with another writer is taking a bit longer (my fault entirely). This one is pure romance, a “meetcute.” Let me know what you think!
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