Chalk Butterfly: Part One (First Time Erotic Romance) (3 page)

If they had a question about Alexander's
bandages or his abrasions, they would ask outright, and he was
always happy to answer.

Once their curiosities were satisfied, they
became blind to differences. Most people, on the other hand,
usually didn't approach Alexander when his bandages were in plain
view. Instead they stole questioning glances and whispered amongst
themselves as if he couldn't possibly notice. It was now habit for
him to wear gloves whenever he wrapped or had visible abrasions,
even in warmer weather.

“I have a reserved space outside my
building,” Daniel said, jolting Alexander out of his own thoughts.
Daniel stopped short, watching Alexander expectantly. He really
didn’t wish to delve into the topic much deeper.

“Oh?” was all Alexander could muster.

“Yeah. You don’t talk much, do you?” Daniel
shot back with a large grin. Alexander blushed hotly. The man had a
knack for saying all the wrong things the right way, Alexander
could tell.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” Daniel said. “I automatically
assume everyone’s aching to talk with me. Kind of an egocentric
problem of mine, pops up every now and again. Please, feel free to
ignore me in full.” He still grinned, and Alexander found it oddly
contagious. “No? Still smiling? Well, I’m cured.”

“I think you’re recovering fine,” Alexander
replied.

Daniel had to lean in to catch the soft,
sweet sounds of Alexander’s voice. He found himself oddly drawn to
the younger man, though they'd hardly spoken in depth. Perhaps it
was something about the way the man was assembled, long and
quiet.

‘But quiet’s not really a way to describe
someone physically,’ Daniel thought, still smiling. That was a
first— grinning before nine AM.

“Thank you, it’s been a traumatic
experience, but you cured me. I am in debt to you, Alexander.”

“No, no.” Alexander laughed, and he was
surprised at the rich chuckle escaping his throat. “Clearly, it was
a lone effort. I just sat here, nearly had a kip, really.”

Daniel feigned indignation, and
Alexander couldn’t help but marvel at the ease in which the smiling
stranger spoke with him. Alexander leaned forward and relaxed his
tensed hands. Maybe whatever confidence Daniel had
was
contagious.

“So, you had a kip?” Daniel asked, shifting.
“You’re British, I suppose, though I had trouble placing your
accent. So many of us in Chelsea have our noses held up so high,
you’d swear it did something to the vocal chords. It’s like we’re
all stuffy, sophisticated aristocrats from across the pond. Oh, I
take that back, we’re too flighty to be aristocrats. Maybe gentry.
So, Brit?”

“Yes.” Alexander ducked his head, hoping to
dodge more questions on the subject as the train rolled to a shaky
stop. A few passengers exited, and Alexander looked back up at
Daniel, who still watched him.

“What, may I ask, are you doing in New York
City? Vacationing?” The train started up again and Alexander braced
himself gently in the seat with his right hand, ignoring the sharp
stab of pain that ran up his palm. He usually didn’t have to be so
careful with what he did with his hands and he found himself
learning to be cautious the hard way all over again.

“No, I live here. Well, not
here
, you see. In the train cart, I
mean. Yes, I don’t talk much.” Alexander snapped his mouth shut and
looked away.

“I’m sure you’re usually quite articulate,”
Daniel said. “I’m overwhelming, dark and brooding, you know the
type. Very distracting. Ah, ego not cured after all, I see.”

“It’s a sad case, then,” Alexander found
himself saying. “Dark, and brooding-- an egomaniac. Maybe I
shouldn’t be talking with you at all.” His slight smile and the way
he leaned closer into Daniel’s shoulder, betrayed the aloof
coolness in his voice.

“Oh, you don’t like brooding? I swear,
that’s a first. What about dark and slightly incomprehensible? I
think I do that well. Is that your type?” Daniel’s voice lowered
slightly, a little more intimate.

“I don’t have a type,” Alexander said.

“Come now. What’s she like?”

The train began rolling to the next stop.
“I… fuck!” Alexander yelped, turning sharply in his seat as the
passengers began lining up at the door.

“Oh?”

"No, I missed my stop. Fuck, sorry. I
mean...um." Alexander twisted further in his seat, careful of his
sore hand, and watched the train pull into the stop after his own.
"Oh, no…"

"Where did you mean to get off?" Daniel
asked. He pulled a subway map from his breast pocket and gently
knocked Alexander against the shoulder. Alexander’s grip on the
window ledge slipped as he steadied himself, his hand burning with
the friction. He gasped and pulled his hand away, biting back the
cry that wished to escape. It was hardly a bump, but the pain was
intense. Alexander could feel the tears welling in his eyes.

“Soh…Soho,” he managed. He felt relieved
that Daniel was involved with fighting the large map and hadn’t
noticed his tiny accident. ‘Breathe,’ he told himself, ‘don’t lose
it now.’

“This map… is impossible,” Daniel continued,
mumbling to himself. “I don’t understand…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alexander gritted
out, raising his left arm to wipe at his eyes carefully. The large
tears smeared down his cheeks, reddening the already rosy skin.
“I’ll have to exit now and board the train back in twenty,” he said
evenly. He kept his hand very still, his legs shaking a bit as the
pain endured. “So, this is my stop…” He stood weakly, and nodded to
Daniel. All he wanted to do was get to off the train, find a
restroom where he could have a good, proper cry and then call
Elijah. Daniel looked up at him and smiled, completely unaware.

“Alright,” Daniel replied, obviously
conceding to the map as he shoved it into his jacket pocket with a
comical scowl of defeat. “Want to get some coffee while you
wait?”

“But…” Alexander bumbled, waiting for the
line of passengers to exit before he began to make his way to the
door. He desperately wanted out of Daniel’s sight; needed to
compose himself and shake all the mutinous butterflies out of his
stomach. “Is this your stop?”

“Sure,” Daniel said. He pressed a hand
against Alexander’s back, right between the shoulder blades.
Alexander couldn’t argue with the forward nudge, the soft pressure,
and he let Daniel lead him out onto the busy platform.

“I need to use the loo,” Alexander said. He
pulled away into the shifting crowd. “Excuse me.” Daniel’s hand
dropped, and Alexander slipped out of sight.

“Wait,” came Daniel’s searching voice.
Alexander turned back against the flow of the moving mass of
people. “You’ve dropped something!” Alexander swallowed, struggling
to step forward, closer to Daniel. A large man, clutching at a
heavy black briefcase, bumped Alexander on the shoulder, and the
younger man jolted uneasily to the left.

“Hey, watch it,” Daniel said. He frowned at
the scowling man, and swiftly removed Alexander from the center of
the crowd. He pulled the younger man to the side of the platform,
behind a set of worn iron benches.

“I… what?” Alexander asked, wincing

“Here,” Daniel said. He raised his hand
slowly, carefully as if not to startle, and held up something that
was paper thin, tucked between two fingers. Alexander could only
nod, extending his covered hand when much to his surprise, Daniel’s
own hand turned palm up, and his calloused thumb pressed across the
younger man’s cheek. “Just a second…” he mumbled, and Alexander’s
eyes continued staring downward, unable to meet Daniel’s. Alexander
felt Daniel’s warm hand wipe away a fat tear from his cheek.
“Wind’s a bitch this morning,” Daniel said, and Alexander nodded
again.

For a moment Alexander forgot about the
stinging pain in his hand, and the fresh tear running down his
cheek. He could only concentrate on Daniel’s thumb, caressing him
so gently.

Alexander could smell Daniel in the close
proximity, more so than on the train, and he gave off a rich, musky
scent. The older man was, Alexander decided, very attractive. There
was something rough about him, earthy and potent-- though it was
mostly concealed, hidden beneath a polished exterior. Alexander
barely knew the man, and even he could see that. He wanted to lean
in closer, press into Daniel’s warm neck and inhale.

The thought shook Alexander awake, back to
reality in which his hand throbbed and he had cried in front of a
stranger on the subway.

“Excuse me,” Alexander croaked, pulling
back. Daniel’s hand dropped to his side, and Alexander was
immediately sorry for it. “Loo. I’m… I’ll only be a moment, and
I’ll…”

“Take this,” Daniel said, opening his
hand once more to reveal a slightly crumpled bookmark. Alexander
immediately recognized it; it’d been a gift from one of the younger
children in his library reading group. It was bright orange, with a
small blue tassel at the top, featuring several characters
from
Winnie the Pooh
. “You
dropped it on the platform, I’m afraid it’s a bit bent.”

“Thanks.” He took the bookmark and nearly
dropped it again before shoving it deeply into his jacket pocket.
“I’ll…”

“Meet me near the Starbucks?” Daniel
suggested. Alexander nodded affirmative and pressed through the
crowd as quickly as he could, needing the distance, needing the
solitude.

He slipped into the dingy restroom with a
sigh of relief, finding it empty. Leaning against the sink, his
elbows against the porcelain basin, he let the tears come. His hand
had stopped throbbing, but the situation made him emotional.

It had been over a year since he’d fallen
apart in public, mostly due to the fact that he rarely left his
house anymore-- only to go to work and shop weekly, and that was in
the company of Elijah.

“Oh, god, this is getting pathetic,” he
groaned, taking a few deep breaths and shaking out his hands.

He removed the mitten on his right hand, and
inspected the gauze, finding the off white color not deepened by
moisture from any broken blisters. His hands would sting the most
after breaking a blister. A flash of relief crashed through him and
he slipped his mitten back on, breathing even steadier.

He looked up into the mirror and brushed at
the drying tears, smiling as he recalled Daniel doing the very same
only minutes prior.

“Oh, you’re daft,” he told his reflection,
but his smile widened.

Just then the door cracked open and a
janitor entered with his mop and cart. Alexander took one last look
in the mirror, wiping away the sheen of moisture that shimmered
across his forehead, and squeezed out past the janitor.

He ducked behind a small pillar outside the
restrooms and fished out his cellphone from his deep jacket pocket.
He dialed Elijah’s extension and leaned against the wall,
waiting.

“Soho Public Library, branch of the New York
Public Library, this is Elijah Grey,” came Elijah’s practiced
response. “How may I help you?”

“It’s me,” Alexander said. “You’ve got that
down.”

“Oh, it’s you again.” Elijah snorted, and
Alexander could picture his friend perfectly; his feet propped up
on his desk, a half eaten donut on his chest, bright blue eyes set
to rolling. “In that case, what in the hell do you want?” Elijah
asked, fondness lurking beneath the harsh tone. Alexander laughed
and Elijah huffed. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“I’m going to be a tad late, missed my stop.
I’m in Astor Place,” Alexander explained.

“How’d you accomplish that?” He took a loud
slurp of what was undoubtedly his third cup of coffee that
morning.

“I was distracted,” Alexander said. His face
reddened as he spoke.

“You take that route every morning,
Alex.”

“Never on Wednesdays,” Alexander pointed
out.

“That has nothing to do with it, c’mon. Are
you okay?” Elijah began to sound worried, and Alexander groaned,
deciding to let him in on the events of his morning.

“You worry too much, I’m fine. I was…
talking with someone, and lost track of time.” He attempted to
sound casual, disinterested even, but Elijah let out a low
whistle.

“Alexander Price, distracted? Must have been
quite the girl.”

“No, Eli, just some… some interesting
conversation.”

“You’re telling me all about this when you
get in,” Elijah said, taking another noisy swig of his coffee.

“No, definitely not. It was only
conversation. Every normal person does it, and Jesus, we are not
blowing this out of proportion.”

“Alexander, I blow everything out of
proportion, you should know that by now. And I hate to remind you,
but you’re far from normal. You’re still the same shy-as-sin
Alexander I met back in Massachusetts. This is an event to
celebrate. Maybe she’ll cart you around and take you grocery
shopping, and I’ll get a week off?” Elijah teased and Alexander
sighed loudly.

“I have to go, Eli,” Alexander said. “Need
to make sure I don’t miss the next train.”