Disclaimer: the story is my own work, and it contains depictions of intimacy between consenting gay men. Readers should be mindful of age and other restrictions that apply to them. All the characters are fictitious and unrelated to any living or dead individuals - any resemblance is purely coincidental.
Copyright: Alex Warnawski, 2010. The story has not been previously published.
Once again, it was summer, and walking through the thick wall of heat felt also like walking through ethereal spider nets of hope and joy. Streets were as warm with people of all sorts -- working families seeking a reprieve from the drabness of daily life, eager college students looking for the ultimate party they would hardly remember afterwards, and, of course, the locals, who in that multitude dwindled to little more than just part of the setting.
James could feel the sweat trying to break to the surface. Considering that he had a long day ahead of him and no time to go back home and change, this could easily turn into a disastrous situation. It was time for an intervention, and his eyes nervously scrutinized the landscape to locate the nearest Starbucks. But even in the midst of this growing crisis, his mind wandered off to the many happy memories he had of the summer season. Since he was a little kid, he could hardly wait for June to come around the corner so he could start going to the beach. Every trip to the seaside was an event -- the morning saw an impatient breakfast followed by a meticulous ritual of putting all sorts of toys, accessories and other unseemly things in the beach bag. Afterwards, there was the long walk to the beach, where a glowing James would occasionally flaunt said bag, as if removing any doubt in passers-by as to where he was heading. Once he was finally there, he would diligently wait the obligatory three minutes before plunging in the ocean, leaving his parents behind to boredom, mild concern, and increasing sunburn. Like a neurotic dolphin, he would submerge underwater, only to show up victoriously several seconds later. And when that got old, he would just float on his back, staring at the sky and freeing his mind of all earthly concerns.
A sweat drop tripped off his nose and fell on his shirt, unceremoniously breaking his reverie. Fortunately, a Starbucks finally emerged in the distance, and James wasted no time getting there. As he opened the door, cool air brushed against his face and arms, and he knew he had reached salvation. At least temporarily. Even though James was not too keen on the idea of big nationwide chain stores that, over time, crushed local smaller ones, the heat-averse coffee junkie in him was grateful that, especially in this season, there were Starbucks cafes everywhere. He could map out his route through the city in advance, planning for pit stops where he would refuel with a double latte and cool off for a second before the next lap.
The inside of the store was dim and not particularly crowded, which was a rarity in this time of the year. James was delighted that he wouldn't have to stand in line or wait for a table to be cleared. His errands were going to have to wait -- he was definitely going to enjoy this for a while. After a brief hesitation, he ended up ordering his usual -- a tall black iced tea, and a slice of marble cake. He could never figure out why the smallest cup size they had was called "tall", but it didn't particularly matter either -- he could already feel the deliciousness is his mouth. The nearest unoccupied table was as good as any, and it also happened to be a nice vantage point for people watching. As James was getting comfortable, his gaze caught for a split second the figure of guy sitting two tables away and to the right. A split second, however, was quite enough for him to notice that the guy was, actually, quite hot. Too hot even for the scorching throes of summer. His haircut was a low fade and he had mild yet masculine features, smooth brown complexion that worked in seemingly perfect unison with his white T-shirt, and really defined, manly man hands. James now had a dilemma -- he wanted to steal another glance at the stranger, yet not come off as staring at him. The general absence of customers that had so sweetly worked to his advantage earlier, was now making any concealed advances quite conspicuous. After a short period of deliberation, he went for the age-old and time-tested "Look what time it is! Where are you, person that I'm pretending to be looking for?" He took a look at his wristwatch, and then around the store, with fake annoyance on his face, until his eyes rested on the target. Fortunately, said target appeared to be immersed in a newspaper, now and then sipping on an unidentified drink. James noticed that there was something different about this guy's presence -- it was as if there was a glow about him; he seemed to exude internal peace, a balance of spirit so tangible that it made you think whether you could contract it from him. That was a major turn-on for James, who'd had a fair amount of experience with guys who were still searching for themselves, for some ass, or for whatever their insecure infantile minds were after.
Unfortunately, the guy also looked straight. Something about his ease and simplicity betrayed an in-control, good self-image possessing, and yet very straight man. James felt a disappointment on a par with the excitement he'd felt about coming across this perfectly awesome guy on a perfectly awesome day. He sighed a downcast sigh, sipped some more of the iced tea, and let the stream of his thoughts run: "Beautiful stranger, I wish you were gay and you would look up at me and smile and come over and introduce yourself and then ask me out on a date and then come to my place and make me multiple babies in all colors of the human rainbow and then marry me and live with me happily ever after. But you're just a straight boy anyway, and you probably even make gay jokes around your football buddies or gym buddies or WHATEVER it is that you do to keep in such good shape, oh Lord that bicep, and you're probably also messy and not particularly smart and somewhat crude. I know your type, yes I do -- ya'll look cute until one gets to know you." The guy smiled, not looking up, and James heard a voice in his head: "How about you rewind all that back to where we introduce each other?"
"Oh no, did I actually say any of this?!" James started panicking. He turned abruptly around to see who had accosted him, and knocked off his drink in the process. It splashed nonchalantly on the ground and made an oblong puddle. "Oh shit!" thought and nearly vocalized James. Forgetting all about the guy, he darted at the counter for some napkins. He always spilled drinks, and hated it when it happened in public places. He was also still in shock of what he'd heard, and was now questioning if it had merely been an artifact of his mind. There wasn't anyone sitting at the tables right around his. Had he maybe gotten a heat stroke? That was definitely a possibility given that it was ninety-six degrees outside. Yes yes, that must be it. Case closed, done deal, move on with your life. He grabbed a stack of napkins and headed back to his table, resolute to clean up the mess in record time and arousing minimal curiosity in the other clients. His breath came to a screeching halt when he saw Mr. Hotness standing right by his table, offering a few napkins in an outstretched hand.
"I thought you might need a few of these."
"Huh?" managed James. But he regrouped himself quickly: "Ah, I mean, thanks. I guess that's it for me not attracting attention to my two left hands." A little humor always diffused an awkward situation. The guy gave out a little laugh, cocking his head downward slightly in a very cute and adorable way, and then looked up at James. With the stranger's smile, big brown eyes and luscious lips in plain view, James had a really hard time thinking about decent things. His mind was desperately trying to latch on to something else, something to help him overcome the sudden paralysis of all but a key part of his body. He imagined thousands of gallons of black iced tea spilling on the floor, sweeping tables, chairs and customers, winding down the café and out on the street to form a dejected pool...
"I'm Terrell, and I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"It's OK, I didn't need your help much. My name is James." Oh, and you would look so hot dressed in nothing but a few strategically positioned napkins. "I mean, I'm a pro at embarrassing myself. I do appreciate the napkins."
Terrell smiled again: "No problem. Nice to meet you James. You live around here?"
"Yeah, right by the beach."
"Oh for real? That's cool, I'm organizing a beach party this coming Friday. You should definitely come, unless of course you have other plans."
Whoa! Where did this come from? But James thought he should analyze it later.
"Sure, thanks for inviting me. Just bear in mind I'm prone to spilling things."
"That's why I picked the beach -- you can always just take your shirt off it if you spilled something on it." Now they both laughed, but James felt it was suddenly ninety-six degrees inside the store as well.