"Fuck," I said with a harsh exhale.
Wow, that was good. What would it be like if he'd actually been there?
Suddenly, I knew I had to find out. I jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom. As quickly as possible, I showered and dressed and then I rushed downstairs. Would he be at The Coffee Bean? I prayed he would. I still didn't know if I'd be able to make myself call him, but if I could find him serving coffee, I could just go in, place an order, and ask him out.
I moved so fast I nearly ran over several people who appeared to be in a Christmas shopping daze, probably headed to the Last Minute Craft Fair. I pushed my way through the revolving door and into the lobby. I glanced at the counter of the coffee shop, but I didn't see him.
Damn.
Had I'd missed my chance?
Then he stepped out from the back, and I raced over and joined the line. Dane saw me after a few seconds. His eyes widened, and he almost dropped the cup he was holding.
He didn't look at me again as he worked quickly through drink after drink.
"Large brewed coffee," I ordered when I reached the counter.
Dane reached for a cup. When he handed it to me, I let my hand brush his. "When do you get off work?"
"Noon. We're closing then."
"Would you—"
"Dane, there's a line." The other guy who was working looked pissed.
"Yeah, just a sec."
"Would you like to…um—"
"Yes," he answered as if I'd finished my question. "Pick me up here."
He stepped into the gap between the counters and kissed my cheek. "Merry Christmas. Now get moving before I lose my job."
I sucked in my breath at his boldness. I wanted to grab him, because I needed more than that quick brush of lips over my cheek. But I still had enough sense to know that I had to wait, even though the pent-up desire of the last few weeks threatened to toss me over the brink of insanity. "Okay."
Dane had to push at my chest to get me moving, and I almost forgot to grab my coffee.
* * * * *
At home, I considered changing my outfit, then reconsidered, then considered it again. I cursed the fact that Shelley would be at a family celebration where I shouldn't bother her. But that was probably for the best. I could just imagine her giggles.
I'd never worried about what I wore beyond being sure to err on the side of professional for anything related to my job. I wasn't even sure what someone my age was supposed to wear to a lunch date. I finally gave up and went with the original outfit of jeans and a button-down that Dane had already seen.
Once that decision was made, all I had to think about was how likely it was I was going to screw this up. I was a wreck and I was likely to panic. Then I remembered his hand on my arm, his lips against my cheek.
But I had to
talk
to him. I couldn't just grab him and kiss him. What was I thinking anyway? I'd never kissed a guy, and he'd probably kissed…well, several guys, tens of guys, if not hundreds probably. Hell, I didn't know. I didn't really know anything about him except that he had a great smile and was always nice to me when I got coffee even if I was acting like a grumpy asshole. Although now I also knew that his beard felt just as soft as I expected it to.
What was I doing? I was in over my head, but probably we wouldn't spend long together. He likely had last-minute shopping to do or family plans or something. Most people did on Christmas Eve. Maybe I could hold myself together for just a little while.
I was going out with a man. I was going to shake my life up again. This is a mistake. I could just text him, let him know I couldn't make it after all. I could…
Tom! Don't you dare.
Shelley's voice was in my head scolding me.
That would be an asshole thing to do. I'd avoided Dane like a coward for almost two weeks. I'd not given him the courtesy of a call or even a text. I could've at least sent a message back to him through Shelley. He deserved an explanation.
Explain that you're afraid to go out with a man, afraid to accept any more change, is that what you want to do when you're with him?
A vivid image from my early-morning fantasies flashed through my mind, and I groaned. No, explaining my psychoses was
not
what I wanted to do, but was it what I should do?
You
should
have some fun, do something for yourself.
But wasn't all this for me, what I'd done for the last four years?
Isn't it time to stop thinking of everything in your life as work and start thinking about what makes you happy?
My therapist had said those words to me shortly before I'd decided I didn't have time to make it to regular sessions if I was going to prove myself at what was then a brand-new job. Maybe I should go back to therapy. Maybe I should stop worrying about everyone else's opinion.
I'd thought that was what I was doing when I told my family I was transferring schools and no longer attending church. I did stop pretending to believe what others told me to; that was true. But I hadn't stopped thinking about how everyone was judging me—my family for not believing as they did, my friends for my background, for ever having believed as my family did, my boss for any errors I might make on the job. I was defensive, busy trying to prove myself to everyone and not having any fun.
Dane was a man who knew how to have fun, or at least he seemed that way, carefree, easy. Even when there was a huge line in the shop and he was working the espresso machine, he never seemed in a rush. He just took each thing as it came.
I wasn't going to stand him up. I was a better person than that. I owed it to both of us, and like Shelley said, we could just go out, have lunch, get to know each other. We didn't have to…
Damn.
There were those images in my head again. Yeah, I was definitely into men, or at least into Dane.
* * * * *
By eleven forty-five, I was back in the lobby of my building. I forced myself to wait there rather than going into The Coffee Bean and mooning over Dane while he cleaned up and got the shop ready for closing. There were a few customers sitting at tables, but otherwise, things were quiet. Most of the businesses in the building were closed or only had a few employees working since it was Christmas Eve.
At noon, Dane ushered the two remaining customers out, closed and locked the door, and flipped the sign to Closed. He waved to me, then held up a finger indicating I should wait.
I watched as he wiped down tables and put the chairs up on them. Finally, he pulled off his apron and headed into the back. A few minutes later, he reappeared and slipped out the door. The other guy who'd been working locked it again behind him.
"Hi," Dane said when he was only a few feet from me. I stood and clasped my hands together, trying to stop them from shaking.
"Hi."
"So…lunch?" he asked.
"Yeah. Lunch."
He seemed nervous too, something I hadn't expected, but then, I wasn't very good at putting people at ease.
"I know a great Lebanese place that's tucked away and not likely to be overly crowded today. How does that sound?" Dane asked.
"Fantastic."
"Okay, come on, then."
He took my hand and tugged me toward the door. I almost pulled away in shock, but something in my chest loosened from the warmth of his touch and his utter conviction that I was going to follow him. I was okay with what was happening, even him touching me in public. Dane's presence did something to me that allowed me to simply follow my heart.
He squeezed my hand before letting it go as we stepped into the street. He walked quickly but not as fast as I usually did on my way to work. We turned down a street I wasn't sure I'd ever been on. A block later, a cracked and dirty sign advertising Farid's Restaurant stuck out from the wall over a doorway where the paint was peeling off the trim.
"Um, you're sure this place is…"
"The best. You've never tasted shawarma like Farid's and the hummus—a perfect balance of garlicky and lemony. You're going to love it."
I followed him inside. He was right. There were only a few other customers there. The Last Minute Craft Fair crowds and other Christmas Eve shoppers weren't likely to wander into this place.
An elderly Lebanese man waved to Dane from the kitchen and gestured toward a table. There were menus tucked between the napkins and condiments, but Dane laid his hand on mine when I started to reach for one.
"Do you trust me to order?"
Apparently, I trusted him for a lot more than that. "Yes."
A few moments later, a teenage boy came to take our orders. Dane said, "We'd like a sampler platter, an extra order of shawarma, and two Abita ambers."
"Yes, Mr. Dane."
Dane grinned at him, and the boy headed for the kitchen.
"You come here a lot, don't you?"
"At least a couple of times a week. It's close to my apartment. Do you live downtown?"
"One the south edge of downtown in a duplex," I said. "It's close enough to walk to work, which is good, because my car is extremely temperamental."
Dane smiled. "So, what made you change your mind about me?"
"Change my mind?" I repeated as if I couldn't comprehend the words. Perhaps my brain was just trying to reject the idea of having this conversation.
"You ignored me for days and then you burst into the shop this morning looking like you'd already had several cups of coffee. I thought you might explode with the need to talk to me."
Not just talk. "Um… I'm sorry. About not calling or coming by or something. When I literally ran into you, I was going to say that you had the wrong impression, that I'm not gay, but that's not true. I mean, I guess it's not. I don't really know what to say, but I'm definitely attracted to you. Oh, I… I didn't mean to say that, not like that. I just… I've never been with another man and I—"
Dane laid his hands over mine as I tore a napkin into little bits. "I'm really attracted to you too, and I knew you were straight or at least you thought you were."
"You did?" I looked up. He was smiling at me, looking like he might laugh, but not like he was mocking me, more like he was truly enjoying this…spilling of myself or whatever I was doing.
"Shelley told me," Dane said.
"Of course she did."
"Don't be annoyed with her. She cares about you, and I think she was afraid I'd get annoyed and give up on you."
"I'm surprised you didn't."
"When I want something, I can be very stubborn about it," Dane said.
"And you…want me?"
He laughed. "Oh yes. Very much."
My mind went blank, and I just stared at him.
"We don't have to rush any of that."
"But it's going to happen. I mean you want it to happen. I mean… Wow, I wish I could stop embarrassing myself."
"I kinda like it. But what's going to happen today is whatever makes both of us happy."
I squeezed his hand. I wanted to reach out and touch his face, caress him, run my thumb over his lower lip. I craved him in a way I'd never craved anyone, but while certain areas of town had become a lot more progressive recently, public displays of affection between gay men in a Baton Rouge restaurant was a no-go. Our food came, so we pulled apart and focused on eating.
I took a pita, filled it with shawarma and tzatziki, and took a bite. Dane was right: this was amazing.
"Good?" he asked when he finished chewing his own first bite.
"Incredible."
"Told ya."
I scooped up some hummus with a pita triangle and tasted. Dane was right about it too. Some of the best I'd ever had. "Thanks for bringing me here."
"You're quite welcome. When we're done eating, what would you say to a little ice skating?"
"Um…really?" I'd never been before and I would likely end up on my ass seconds after hitting the rink.
He laughed. "Yes, really. It'll be fun."
"I'm not sure about that. I think it might be painful."
"If you fall, I'll kiss you and make it better."
He was joking, but the thought had me sucking in my breath. "I've never skated before."
"It's not like we've got a lot of experts here. There'll be plenty of other first timers."
"But
you've
been?"
"Every Christmas for years."
I couldn't help but want to please him by saying yes. And I imagined how proud Shelley would be. Ice skating was definitely something fun people did. "Okay."
"Perfect."
We finished lunch and walked over to the River Center. The scene at the rink pulled a smile from me. The city must have paid a bundle to keep it cool. I knew there were cooling coils similar to those in an air conditioning unit under the ice, and they had to be working hard since it was nowhere near freezing outside. There were people on the ice in short sleeves—though they probably weren't locals. Most Red Stick residents considered sixty degrees jacket weather.
We bought our tickets and rented skates. As we strapped them on, I thought seriously about chickening out, but then Dane stood up on wobbly legs and grinned at me. "First one to fall buys the after-skating drinks."
"Wait," I called as he walked shakily toward the rink. I tied my second skate and followed, knowing I'd go wherever he led.
Chapter Three: A Merry Little Christmas
When I stepped onto the ice, I clung to the wall, sure I was going to fall the second I let go.
"Come on, give it a try." Dane skated around in a circle. He looked precarious, like he might fall too, but he just skated on anyway.
"Come on. You can do this. You've roller skated, haven't you?"
"Yeah, like a squillion years ago."
"It's probably like bike riding and you don't forget."
I chewed my lower lip. "Um…I think I've forgotten how to ride a bike."
We both laughed.
"Take my hand."
I glanced around. "Here?"
"I'm teaching you to skate. All quite innocent."
I reached out, clasping his hand, and he pulled me away from the wall.
Starting to slip, I windmilled my free arm, probably looking like a cartoon character, but I stayed on my feet.
"See. You're fine."