As You Are (5 page)

Danny's wardrobe consisted of nothing that hadn't been sold by Abercrombie or American Eagle Outfitters. He never exactly folded his clothes very neatly, so he always had this sort of rumpled charm about him. You couldn't look at the man and not get a little weak in the knees. Thanks to his job, he also always smelled like books, which was a major aphrodisiac. I don't know why, but I always get extremely aroused in bookstores and libraries. I love the smell of books.

Danny smiled, causing the wrinkles around his dimples to stretch, showing the slight maturity in his face. “You were busted for not reading her articles?” He was wearing dark gray sweatpants and one of the many ribbed wifebeaters he owned. If he had on a shirt at home, that would've been it.

Damn, but he is sexy as hell
. “Are the walls in this apartment really that thin? Oh wait, what am I thinking?” I scrunched up my face in faux orgasm as I headed over to the window. “Oh God… Oh, Danny, fuck me…yeah!”

He laughed while walking into the kitchen. “I can't believe you're actually going out on a date. Does this guy know you're the downtown Pollyanna?”

“Is that jealousy rearing its ugly head?” I asked, wishing I could kiss him…right before shoving him out a window. “What's the matter, you don't have one of your nubile tricks lined up for this evening?”

“Thought I'd take a weekend off.” He rubbed his shoulders as he watched me sit on the windowsill and pick up my pack of smokes. “I'm still a little sore from the last one.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Poor thing!” I lit my cigarette. “Well, you are like, thirty-four; it must be getting tough for you to keep up with the twenty-one-year-old crowd you run with.”

“Hey,” he said with an all-too-serious expression, “if you're not sore the day after, then what was the point?”

“Um…I don't know.” I was scratching my head while exhaling out the open window. “Maybe intimacy, spooning, kissing, and cuddling. If you stopped fucking long enough, you might find that all that can be more satisfying than ejaculation. Let's face it: a little Vaseline in the palm of your hand can accomplish that. Everything else requires another person.”

The sarcastic smile faded from his face, and he shook his head a bit. “Well, Julie, I hope you have a nice time. I'll try to make myself scarce after eleven, just in case.”

“Thanks!” I took another puff, waiting for the punch line.

He turned and went back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I thought back, wondering if I'd actually said something to offend him. Maybe he didn't feel good? Maybe it was some new head game he was trying out? Pushing it from my brain, I snubbed out the ciggie and made for the shower.

The door buzzer started going off, so I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed out the door. I took a few deep breaths as I went down the stairs. I came to the bottom, and Andy had his back to me. He spun around as I opened the door, and I felt my tummy flutter. Andy looked like a model for Ralph Lauren in a linen khaki suit with a crisp blue cotton shirt that made the color of his eyes jump out and scream
Yes, these are the bluest eyes you've ever seen!

Andy smiled, looking me up and down. “You look great.”

There was something about his demeanor and the way he spoke. Andy looked you directly in the eyes as if to say
You can trust me
. I wondered if he was trustworthy.
I bet he's a damn good real estate agent
. I imagined he could talk clients into buying the most run-down, neglected money pit in town simply by looking at them and telling them it was their dream home.

I was unable to keep myself from smiling back like a giddy schoolgirl who'd just spotted a Jonas brother. “You don't look too shabby yourself.” I shut the door behind me and followed him to his car, cursing his jacket, which prevented me from getting a better look at his ass. “So,” I asked, opening the passenger-side door to his silver Honda CR-V and sliding into the seat next to him, “are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner, or is it a secret?”

Starting the car, he said, “No secret.” He smiled, showing me his bright white teeth. “I made reservations for us at Flappers. Gabby might have mentioned you didn't particularly enjoy messing with the details, and that I should just choose a place and take care of all the arrangements.”

Damn, I love that girl!
“Ah, so you've been doing your research. What else did Gabby tell you?” As Andy pulled the SUV away from the curb, I noticed his car looked and smelled newly detailed. I caught a slight whiff of vanilla, which, when mixed with his spicy cologne, smelled like heaven.

“Not much, just that you're a lot of work, a little neurotic, and that you say whatever pops into your head.” He shifted gears and grinned.

Damn, I hate that bitch!
“Remind me to kick her ass, will you?” I sat back into the seat, a little irritated and surprised the poor guy had still bothered to show up.

“She also said that if things work out between us, you'd be the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'd spend the rest of my life thanking God that I walked into the bar that night and asked you out.”

“Like that's supposed to make up for it.” I was lightly drumming my fingers on the armrest.

“Don't be pissed,” he said, laughing. “You end up going through a lot of shit with anyone you get involved with romantically. You know you have a good friend when she tells people you're worth all the trouble.”

“I suppose.” I watched his hands on the steering wheel, wondering what they'd feel like on my skin. “But I'm in a little trouble with her, so with your permission, I'm going to pretend to be pissed about it. It may lighten my punishment.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Better not,” I said, watching him drive. “I'd prefer you not find out what a freak I am in the first five minutes.”

He slowly drove along the downtown one-way street until we finally found a parking spot. As we entered the restaurant and walked up to the hostess station, the girl with blonde hair smiled and said, “Hello, Mr. Baker. Let's see.” She looked down, studying her book. The restaurant was fashioned after the speakeasies of the twenties. The exposed-brick walls were covered with deco-inspired artwork and vintage liquor posters. There was an ornately carved walnut bar that ran all the way along the back of the restaurant to a smaller room off the main dining area, and they had live jazz on Fridays and Saturdays. “Oh, here you are. Two for
smoking
this evening.” She looked up from the book with a warm smile.

Andy smiled and nodded, and we followed her through the dining room and into the more-dimly lit bar area to our table. He noticed that I smoked, I thought. This was a man who paid attention to detail. I never would have thought to even ask if he smoked, had the situation been reversed.

We sat down across from one another at the intimate square table. The hostess set down the menus and a wine list before politely excusing herself. Our waiter came over, and the three of us discussed the specials and bottles of wine. Andy decided on a filet with béarnaise sauce and sautéed mushrooms, and I chose the mahimahi with a pineapple-ginger salsa. The waiter suggested a merlot, which we both agreed would be fine.

“So how do you like Merryville so far?” I asked, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it.

“It's really beautiful,” he said, as the waiter returned with the bottle of wine and proceeded to uncork it. After tasting it, Andy nodded, and the waiter filled our glasses before retreating back to the bar.

As Andy continued talking, I noticed that the smoke from my cigarette was heading right for his face, so I dropped my arm below the table.

“The people are so nice here. Kinda gives it that small-town feeling.” Andy picked up his glass and leaned back into his seat.

He began telling me some story about starting his new job, and I lifted my arm to take a drag. The sleeve of my jacket caught on the corner of the table, and I looked over to see that my cigarette had slipped out of my fingers and was sailing through the air as if in slow motion, spiraling and arcing upward like an Olympic diver, landing a few feet away on the wood floor. I felt my face begin to flush as I turned to look at Andy. He turned his face back away from the bar and looked at me, grinning.

He didn't see it, I thought to myself. Sweet Jesus, he didn't see it. I smiled back and placed my elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand. He continued to relate his experiences about settling into a new town and starting his new job, and I shifted my eyes to look down at the floor.
Shit, it's still burning.

Don't even, don't you dare… Damn it. It's burning the floor!
I let out a little laugh, hoping I was doing it in an appropriate section of the story Andy was telling. I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to it, though.
That is a risk restaurants take when they allow scummy smokers into their establishments. I'm sure someone will come along and step on it.

“Julian?” Andy said, waving his hand in my face.

“Huh… I'm sorry, what?” I asked, smiling.
It is burning the floor; don't just sit there like trailer trash.

“Am I boring you?” he asked.

“God, no!” I got up and walked over, then picked up the cigarette. “It just slipped out of my hand.” I felt my face burning as I snuffed it out in the ashtray and sat back down.

“I was wondering if you were going to pretend like that didn't happen.” He started to laugh.

“I'm such a klutz sometimes.” I could feel the moisture begin to collect on my forehead.

He caught me up in his gaze. “You're kinda adorable.”

“It must be the lighting.” I laughed nervously. I picked up my wineglass and took a large gulp, feeling my nerves begin to fray. “So, are you looking for a relationship or just a little slap and tickle?”

“Wow!” His eyes were twinkling in the candlelight. “You really do say whatever pops into your head.”

“It's worse when I'm nervous,” I agreed, unable to tear my gaze away from his. “But ultimately this is something I'd rather find out as early as possible. I don't mean to sound curt, but if you're not heading in the same direction I am, we might as well find out right away. It saves my time and your money. Just kidding about the money part,” I tossed out for clarification.

“Well, then.” He took a sip of wine. “If the right man came along, I'd be more than willing to enter into a relationship. And you?”

“I am
so
racing past my expiration date,” I blurted out, wishing I could at the very least try thinking before speaking.
Could I be any less sexy?
“I mean, yeah, I'm really only interested in finding someone to settle down with. Not that I have a problem with the slap and tickle.”
Argh…stop talking
. Andy laughed at me. “Don't get me wrong. I
love
the slap and tickle. I just prefer slapping and tickling the same person over and over…on a more permanent basis…just that one person and me. Okay, I'm rambling. I'll shut up now.”

“I think I get it.” Andy smiled as he tore off a piece of the bread the waiter had just dropped off. “You like to be spanked.”

If the right person is doing the spanking…
“Funny,” I said, daring to light another cigarette. “It's just that I'm not getting any younger, and I'm really not into that whole geriatric love scene, so I'm hoping to find someone before actually
needing
Viagra.”

Andy shot me a half smile. “So you wouldn't date someone who isn't looking for a relationship as well?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, now I'm curious.” He was scratching his chin as he leaned forward across the table a bit. “What happens if you go out with a guy who doesn't know whether or not he wants to be in a relationship?”

I leaned forward as well, imitating Andy's move, causing a large grin to spread across his face. Our eyes fell into a gaze, and I cleared my throat as flashes of Andy's mouth on my neck filtered through my mind. “I'd think he was a liar and never return his phone calls.”

“How do you expect someone who's never been in a relationship to know whether or not it's something he wants?”

My entire body went on alert mode as I felt his fingers lightly grazing my knee under the table. I wondered if he could read my thoughts as I tried to picture him naked. “That's what my roommate, Danny, says, but I knew I wanted one before I'd ever been in one.”

We stared at one another, each grinning as tingles ran all over my body from his touch. I knew one thing for sure: he was totally picturing me naked. I felt as if a heat was radiating across the table at me as I picked up my water glass and took a quick drink. “I think he uses that as an excuse because he's not capable of being monogamous.”

“So you make no allowances for someone who may truly not know what he wants?” Andy asked, breaking our gaze and sitting back in his chair.

“Indecision is a definite turnoff.” I flicked my cigarette in the ashtray, feeling as if I'd practically just had sex.

The waiter showed up with our food, and we exchanged stories about our families. He'd grown up with a large family, the youngest of six. He told me about his three older brothers, with whom he had great relationships. His two sisters were another story. The younger of the two was practically his best friend in the world, while his older sister didn't care for his…lifestyle. His parents were none too pleased that their youngest son was gay, but Andy said they were doing their best to try to understand. He was proud of them for that.

I told him about my parents. My mother, who just wanted me to settle down, was heavily involved in her local chapter of PFLAG. Then there was my father, who seemed only concerned with constantly reminding me to be sure to get a prenup…as if I had anything worth taking away.

“Do you want children?” I asked while having a culinary orgasm from my mahimahi.

“I love kids. I'd love a big family, at least three or four.”

I was thinking two, but I guess I could bend on that one. Almost laughing at the silliness of the question, I threw out, “Are you a Republican?”

“Yes.” He nodded while cutting off a chunk of steak. “You?”

I knew this was too good to be true…serves me right for making dumb-ass assumptions
. “I'm kind of a leftist Democrat.”
Gay Republicans are as pointless as reality television. Better lay off the politics.

“We sound like the tagline for some gay-romance novel.” Andy laughed a little as he took another bite.

I didn't particularly find any amusement in the situation, but I smiled as if to play along. “And we all know how those end.”

Andy took a sip of water as he seemingly burst his way through the walls I was beginning to construct. “Who knows, Julian? Perhaps we'll get our very own happily ever after.”

I smiled as I took a bite of my fish. I shook my head at him, knowing he was teasing me and kind of liking it.

Some part of me realized I should've been nervous or anxious, but without putting too much thought into the question, I blurted out, “So, got any exes who're gonna show up in a month or so and try to off me?”

Andy smiled as he finished swallowing. “I've really only had the one relationship. Sam and I met back in college. We dated for just over a year.”

Sam…stupid name, I hate him already
. I knew Andy was about my age, though I doubted he went to school for quite as many years as I had, which meant it had been a long time since he'd had a steady.

“Sam got a job offer in Boston after graduation and left.” Andy looked over at me thoughtfully. “He asked if I wanted go with him, but I felt like he was only offering out of some sort of obligation.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling a little sad for the man across the table. He seemed quite genuine discussing the topic. I could sense that while there were still fond memories for this Sam idiot, Andy didn't appear to still be in love with him. Smokin' hot and completely unattached?
Bonus!

Andy pointed at me with his fork. “What's that smile all about?”

I felt the tiniest bit embarrassed, since I hadn't realized I'd been smiling. I felt my face scrunching up as I looked at him. “Nothing…just feel a bit like I won the man-lotto.”