8. Sal
Eight
Sal
I’m not patient. It’s one of my few weaknesses I can’t seem to reign in. Well, compared to Cole I could teach master classes. But I’m far from where I’d like to be.
However, the excitement bubbling in my stomach that we’re prolonging whatever this is, makes me want every moment to inch on by.
When the door swings open and Cole emerges, I’m instantly horny.
How is it that he can wear a casual black, colored polo and gray joggers and blow me away?
How am I supposed to contain myself until tonight?
We dish ourselves up, then go to the balcony to eat.
“What kind of coffee do you like?” Cole asks as he takes the first bite of food.
It’s delightful to watch him enjoy what I’ve made.
Which is good, because omelets are pretty much the only thing I can cook.
“I prefer cappuccinos, specifically vanilla.”
His face scrunches in disgust. “Even when it’s hot?”
I shrug. “It’s not hot yet.”
And it’s not. Spring is in full swing. The sun is shining, the grass is green but the ocean breeze is a mix of hot and cold air.
Finishing his meal, he sits back and closes his eyes, the wind blows his mess of hair around.
He’s so calm , something I’d never use to describe him while at the office.
I find my gaze moving beyond him to the bustling city below. My will to leave the apartment begins to diminish when the alternative comes to mind.
Stripping those form fitting joggers from his body, kissing those plump lips, finding new ways to make him blush.
“You okay?”
The question catches me off guard. I don’t show it though. I meet his gaze and those hazel eyes are bright with amusement.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
There’s that eagerness I’m used to.
He clears the table and I get the door for him. We spend the next few minutes cleaning up before slipping on our shoes and going down to my car.
I know exactly where I want to take him. There’s a cute little coffee shack off the pier.
Reaching over to him, I firmly grab his thigh and squeeze it gently. He jumps, giving me the most sheepish grin. Pink dust’s his cheeks.
“Is this okay?” I ask, holding in my chuckle.
He nods yes then resumes looking out the window.
The view is breathtaking as we cross the causeway; the ocean cresting the horizon, seagulls drifting along currents. Yet I’m struggling to keep my eyes on the road when I’ve got this cutie next to me.
I slip my hand down a few inches but don’t do anything. Hesitantly, Cole places his right hand over mine and rests it there.
It’s as if he’s never been romanced. His cheeks are blazing red now. Somehow that turns me on more.
I swallow hard. If he hasn’t been treated right, I need to cast a firm leash on my desire and love him up good.
Love. I cringe at the word.
Just for this weekend. He’s my employee and come Tuesday when our three day weekend is over, everything has to go back to how it was.
A thought that twists my gut, but it’s how it must be.
I park the car and skip a couple steps to open the door for him.
I surprise both of us when I close the door behind him and offer my hand.
“Are you sure?”
Am I sure that I don’t want to just act like two straight dudes getting coffee as buddies? Am I sure that I want to out us both as gay?
“Yes.”
If Ace Maverick can do it, so can I.
Cole takes it and we walk to the little shop along the boardwalk.
We’re passed by guys and gals on their skateboards. Children run along the sand, and we pass a game of people playing volleyball.
Rolling my shoulders back, I stand even straighter than normal. I have nothing to be ashamed of or hide.
I try to ignore the feeling that everyone’s watching us and trying to figure us out. A tallish muscled man and a cute semi athletic guy.
We approach the Shore Front Coffee shop, a cute little mint colored place with a giant iced coffee as the sign about the door. It’s a little tacky, but I’m fond of the place.
I open the door and let Cole go inside first, regretting letting go of his hand.
There’s a bit of a line and I take the chance to put my arm around Cole’s shoulders. He feels so good under my arm.
“So,” he starts, leaning into my touch. “Why are there so many options?”
Squinting at the board, his head swivels back and forth trying to take in all the options.
“No idea. I get the same thing every time.”
“That’s no fun.” Then his head swivels to me and he laughs. “I mean…”
“No, you’re right,” I confirm with a grin. “Why try something new when I know I can come here and get exactly what I’m craving?”
He bobs his head.
“Which is boring,” I admit.
We both laugh.
The line moves forward quickly and not before long it’s time for us to order. I pull my arm away and Cole sways still looking at the menu.
I order my boring usual. “I’ll take a small vanilla cappuccino.”
The barista, a friendly college aged student smiles and ask, “hot or cold?”
“Hot.”
“Eww,” Cole says.
The girl giggles, her golden braided pigtails bouncing around. “And what about you?”
“What do you recommend for someone who doesn’t like coffee?”
She leans back and glances at the menu. “A smoothie?”
“I’d like to find something that’s within the realm of espresso.”
She taps her chin. “Probably a mint chocolate frappe.”
Cole nods. “That sounds great!”
“What are you both up to today?” She asks with a bright smile.
With the long line behind us I can’t fathom why she’s still chatting with us.
“This guy has been trying to get me out of the house all day,” Cole answers back raising his eyebrows in a really suspect way.
“Oh, is this your uncle?”
Uncle?
Instead of playing along with her assumption, he boldly grabs my hand.
“Boyfriend, actually.”
The clarification has her madly blushing.
“That’s sweet. Enjoy the nice day,” she says followed by biting the inside of her cheek. “Your drinks will be at the end.”
“Thanks,” Cole responds then drags me to the end of the counter.
The girl doesn’t miss a beat and starts chatting with the next customer.
I’m baffled by how at ease Cole suddenly is. He’s still got my hand in his and is swaying to the music, occasionally bumping into my hip.
Noticing how quiet I am, he stops dancing.
“Sorry for saying boyfriend. I figured it was better than saying you’re my boss. Or uncle.”
My brain is short circuiting and I don’t know what to say.
“I figured she was going to ask me out and I didn’t want to reject her.”
I’m ready to explain that I get it. But my brain is muddied with so many thoughts and emotions.
Our drinks are called and he lets my hand go and grabs them for us.
I’m annoyed at my uncooperative tongue.
“Can we walk the pier? I gotta move around more.”
I nod.
Quietly we walk side by side and walk down the pier.
“Thanks for taking me out. Well, thank you for everything.”
My voice finally works again. “You’re welcome.”
He deserves what I’ve given and more. I turn my distracted thoughts to what I want to do to him tonight.
Halfway down the walk he stops and leans against the railing. I sip my drink and I set my drink on a post and wrap my arms around him.
Leaning down I press my lips to his exposed neck. I’m rewarded with a sweet sigh.
Resting my head against his, I ask, “how’s your drink?”
Taking a long sip, he thinks on it. “It’s not bad. It’s better than coffee which tastes like cigarettes.”
“Do you smoke?”
Scanning my memories I don’t recall smelling them on him.
“Nah. I tried when I was a teen. I have friends who smoke but it’s not really my thing.”
I take in his scent. I notice a hint of coconut and lime.
Releasing him, I grab my drink and we continue our walk.
The boards creek under us, occasionally rumbling as kids race past us. Or someone roller blades by.
“What’s the longest relationship you’ve ever had?”
The random questions pops a bubble of reality I didn’t realize was being held far away by helium.
I take a long swig of my drink. “7 years.”
I don’t miss the way his mouth gapes open.
A breathy chuckle escapes me. It’s been so long that the break up doesn’t put me in a choke hold like it used to.
I offer up his name. “Andy.” The power it used to hold over me is gone. “He was fun. He loved life. Not that I didn’t, but he wanted more.”
“What kind of more?”
The interesting question makes me tilt my head thoughtfully. “I was ready to settle down, he wasn’t.”
Cole isn’t looking at me when he says, “I get that.”
Half a dozen questions spring to mind. Like, is he the one who isn’t ready? Is he in the mood to date a handful of guys?
I bring my cup to my lips trying to pull my attention from the pressing thoughts.
We continue walking in the bright sun, our conversation shifting to more casual matters like the best time to get drinks on the beach and the best beach games. I make a mental note of his answers. Then try to scratch them away knowing this is a one time weekend love affair.