Chapter 6
OLIVER
The little coffee shop by my apartment building is nearly empty this late in the evening.
A few people are reading or studying near the corner, but otherwise the place is dead.
Not that I expect anything different. Coffee this late in the evening is usually a bad idea.
I panicked when Aaron agreed to hang out again.
I was certain he would say no, and that would be the end of it.
I’d applaud myself for being brave enough to send the message, then spend the evening pouting over a bowl of ice cream.
Instead, he asked what I wanted to do.
The honest answer to that question is to take him back to my place and get him naked, writhing beneath me in bed. As far as I know, that’s not on the table. Without any other good ideas, I suggested grabbing coffee.
Boring, but safe.
This whole series of events explains why I’m still on the market.
I should’ve found something better to do, like going to an arcade or a museum, but instead I’ve set us up to spend the evening staring at each other.
At least activities come with built-in discussion topics.
This comes with a sugar high and caffeine-induced insomnia.
After a bit of debate over whether I should order now or wait until he’s here, I order myself a vanilla latte and a chocolate chip scone.
I’m not hungry, but I need something to do with my hands.
My usual option is to tear a napkin into tiny pieces, but I’m hoping to avoid introducing Aaron to that version of myself for as long as possible.
When the barista hands over the items, I find a table near the window that feels almost private.
It’s got oversized chairs with big red cushions that resemble thrones.
It also gives me a good view of the door, so I’ll see the moment Aaron walks in.
Or, if he doesn’t show, it’ll give me the chance to stare into the void and consider my disappointment.
Does it even count as being stood up if it’s just friends?
Well, that thought at least gives my mind something to focus on as I try to contain my nervousness. It’s my fault for showing up ten minutes early, but if I’d waited any longer, I would’ve gotten sucked into something at home and been late.
It’s not a date, but I still want to make a good impression. He can find out about my inability to keep to a schedule later.
Or not, considering he’s a few minutes late.
I’m licking my wounds by stuffing half a scone into my mouth when he barrels through the front door.
“Sorry.” He rushes over toward me, pulling his beanie off his head.
Aaron’s messed-up hair, combined with his frazzled disposition, is endearing.
“There was this whole thing at work with—” He stops in front of my chair.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I’m late. I would’ve texted, but I was driving.”
“It’s okay,” I say, doing my best to be unbothered by the situation. He’s got a reason, so I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, probably because I was convinced that he stood me up.
Besides, it’s five minutes. Even the little bit I know about Aaron makes me think he wouldn’t no-show on someone.
After the string of assholes I’ve been out with, it’s hard for me to believe that anyone would behave any differently.
“Sorry, I already got my coffee. I can go get you something,” I offer.
“I got it. Be right back.” He hangs his coat over the back of the other chair, saving his place, as though someone else might come along and take it.
They’d have to fight me for it. Over the past week, I’d made every attempt to convince myself that I’d misremembered how incredibly hot Aaron is. Maybe it was the drinks or the fact that he showed up when I was feeling low. No one can be that good-looking.
Nope. If anything, he looks even better this evening than he did before.
Despite my urge to turn and watch him order and make sure he doesn’t run away, I manage to pretend to have some chill. Instead, I’m trying to decide if I want to devour the last of my scone. I meant to eat it very slowly, savoring the bites while we chat. That ship has sailed.
Fuck it. I shove the bite into my mouth.
Bad choice. My mouth is full of dry pastry when he gets back. No matter how hard I chew, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. The more I try, the worse it gets until I’m coughing, bits of crumb flying out of my mouth.
“You okay?” Aaron asks, setting his cup down on the little table.
He’s foregone the snack and has a mug with a tea bag.
Obviously, a better choice this late, but I need the caffeine.
Not to say awake, but to help me calm down.
I know, weird. It’s always been that way.
I find it calming. Something I’m in desperate need of at the moment.
I try to speak but end up inhaling a bunch of crumbs into my throat instead, sending me into a coughing fit.
“Hey, drink something.” Aaron looks vaguely worried as he hands me my cup.
I take a small sip, but it’s still burning hot, and I can’t get more than the tiniest bit of liquid into my mouth without risking my tongue.
I’m not sure which is the worst way to go—death by scone or death by scalding coffee.
Neither is going to look good on my tombstone.
“Here.” He hands me a bunch of napkins. I don’t have many options, so I spit the remaining piece into the napkin.
Cool. That has to be the worst early impression I’ve made on either a friend or a date. Can a person actually die of embarrassment? I’ve wondered that before, but now I’m running my own mini experiment.
“Want me to get you a water?”
“No, I’m good.” My voice is strained and rough, but at least I’m getting enough air to speak. Not great, but an improvement.
“You sure?”
I give him two thumbs up. It completes my complete and utter mortification.
Aaron looks skeptical but doesn’t say anything else, giving me a minute to pull myself together and drink a few more sips of coffee. Clearly, it should’ve been an iced coffee night.
“So, how was your day?” It’s the first complete sentence I’ve been able to get out in a bit.
“A bit crazy, but okay.”
“Um, this is going to sound bad, but what is it you do?” I probably should’ve led with that the last time we hung out. We were so busy swapping stories about our childhood and bad dates that I didn’t think to ask. Or if he said, I don’t remember.
“I’m an engineer at the airport.”
“Like for the planes?” Maybe he’ll be the one to help me get over my fear of flying. I’ve watched all the videos pilots do on social media explaining why, supposedly, turbulence is not dangerous. It sounds fake. Maybe Aaron can finally be the way to give me a lecture on it that sticks.
“Not exactly. I occasionally work on a plane, but it’s the more boring stuff.
Making sure everything in the airport works, like the baggage system and escalators.
I know it doesn’t sound nearly as exciting, but there are a lot of things at the airport that require regular maintenance and improvement. ”
I work extra hard to keep the excitement on my face.
I can tell by the way he says it that people often give him crap for it.
“That sounds cool. I’ve never been in the airport.
” It’s only partially true. I’ve picked a few people up, but that’s typically waiting for them to grab their bags and meet me at the curb.
“Really?”
“Um… yeah? I don’t really fly much.” Or ever, if I can avoid it.
For the last five years, I’ve managed to get away by taking either my car or a train.
I don’t see a future where that changes.
Well, maybe. The author I work for lives on the East Coast. He’s asked me to come out to visit a few times, reminding me how much work we could get done if we were in the same room for a weekend.
He’s right. I’ve been hinting that he should come out here instead. The only thing saving me is that he’s a bit of a recluse and rarely attends events. As it is, I’ve done a few overnight trains to meet him at places. It’s not an ideal situation, but it keeps me from getting on a flying death trap.
Aaron must sense that I don’t want to talk about it anymore, because he changes the topic. “What did you say you do for work?”
“I’m a virtual assistant. Mostly for this one fantasy author, but I do some work for a few others.
It’s a lot of keeping them organized and making sure they don’t miss deadlines.
” I hold my breath a bit. It’s sometimes a weird conversation.
I’ve been told it doesn’t sound like a real job.
Which is fair enough, because I thought that, too, at first.
“That sounds so cool. Do you get to read the books early?”
“Usually.” I think about the manuscript currently on my e-reader back home.
It’s the newest one. I’m doing a final pass to make sure no typos have slipped through.
It’s been proofread a million times, but there’s always something.
Getting to read books before the general public is a nice perk, though it comes with a non-disclosure agreement that threatens to take my firstborn if I disclose any of the details.
“I’ve usually read it a few times by the time it goes to publication. ”
“That must be nice.” A long moment passes, during which neither of us says anything.
Maybe our time at the bar was a fluke? A weird off night where there was a connection between us that’s faded.
In all the options I thought through tonight, that one didn’t pop up on my radar.
I assumed either he wouldn’t show or he’d only be here long enough to turn me away.
Maybe show up with a girlfriend to make a pointed statement about how incompatible we are.
As much as I wouldn’t put it past a lot of people, Aaron doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. At least from the little I’ve seen so far.