37. Cole
Thirty Seven
Cole
Meeting with the team to plan the gala has been an experience. There’s so much I didn’t know about my coworkers. I thought they were boring because they didn’t have sex on their breaks, or talk about epic things. Turns out, I wasn’t paying attention.
Rumi goes on about some of the artists she’s found to create art pieces to auction off. Some she knew personally from the groups that she’s in. After a bit of egging, she’s showing some of her own pieces on the tv from her laptop.
“These are epic,” Kahlid says, squinting at the multicolor, space-esque painting in front of us.
It really is.
“You gonna sell it at the gala?”
Rumi scoffs, tucking her black hair behind her ear.
Her delicate hands cascade across the keyboard. “No way.”
“Why not?” I argue, wrapping my arm around my leg.
She shakes her head, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.
Obviously she’s not gonna cave, at least not right now.
“You should at least think on it, Rumi, these pieces are sick.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles, closing the laptop. Changing the subject, she sits up straighter. “Did you get Oliver to agree to giving a speech?”
“He said no.”
“Really?”
I love how invested Kahlid is in this whole thing. At first, he seemed extremely indifferent about pretty much everything except his own project.
Now he’s the first one to ask for all the tea.
“Don’t worry,” I say with a wide smile. “He’s got a couple other people in mind. He says enough men get to give speeches in his religion and he has some great women in mind for the job.”
“Ah, okay.”
“That’s really cool!” Rumi beams. “That’s really thoughtful of him.”
Kahlid nods. “It is.”
“Have you found enough Tik Tok famous people to attend?” Rumi asks Kahlid.
“Oh yeah, tons of people. Once they realized I’m not a scammer, that is.”
“True, cold calling celebrities is stressful,” I say in agreement.
We all laugh and leave the conference room.
Everything’s coming together nicely. The vendors are booked, the guest list will be confirmed next week and I’ve got my tux ready to go.
“So Cole, who are you bringing as your date?” Rumi asks.
The question is innocent and valid, yet I can’t help but wonder if this is payback for complimenting her art.
I clear my throat, wondering what the hell I should tell them. I don’t want to lie to them, but sure as hell won’t be the truth. Not yet at least.
“Ummm.”
Kahlid lifts his eyebrows at me. “Is it gonna be that big buff dude who used to pick you up at lunch?”
“No…” I say quickly.
Where’s Tony when I need him? He just had to be out sick today. He would know what to say.
“It’s a… surprise.”
“A surprise?” Rumi questions with amusement.
“Well, who are you both bringing?”
“I’m going alone,” Rumi beams. “I hope I can meet someone there…”
I blink, the realization of how much more I need to learn about her sinking in.
“I’m bringing a girl I’ve been talking to.”
“How’d you two meet?” I ask, desperate to know more.
“Let me show you. She’s an absolute dime.”
She’s absolutely gorgeous, with gold weaved into her hair and bright, brown eyes.
“Her name is Alana. She’s not only beautiful but she’s obsessed with sharing the best music and she likes hiking.”
Hiking?
“I’ve never been hiking,” I admit.
“What?!” Kahlid shakes his head in disapproval.
“I’ve been a little here and there,” Rumi adds.
“Looks like we’re all going hiking together soon.” Kahlid says it with such confidence, I feel a weird dancing sensation in my chest.
They’re not just my coworkers, they’re my friends.
Everything feels set in the right place.
Now, all I need to do is take Sal out on a date and I recall something from that first night at my place as I work out where to take him.
* * *
??(Separate chapter in Vella)
Despite Sal being the driver, I rush to his side and open his car door for him.
I gesture for him to sit and he keeps looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“It’s called chivalry.”
He’s supposed to laugh, but instead, that look remains plastered to his face.
Whatever. Maybe he’s not old fashioned, or he’s not used to being romanced.
When he finally slides into his seat, I close the door and jog over to the passenger side, tugging at the dress shirt.
I swear to god he better tear these clothes from my body the moment we get back in his vehicle after dinner. I’ll run up to my apartment naked.
Plopping down, I turn my head and he’s staring at me. I try to think back, has he been this weird all day, or is this new?
Oh, my seat belt. I click it in place and give him a strained smile.
Oh, he doesn’t know where we’re going.
“Do you want me to drive so it’s a surprise until we get there?” I offer.
Sal seems to snap out of whatever daze he’s in. “No, no that’s alright. Where are we going?”
Okay, maybe he’s as nervous as I am.
“Um, I was thinking L’orgoglio dell’Italia .”
Christ, I butcher the pronunciation, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, more of that odd energy emanates from him.
“Sal?”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, let’s go. Are you buckled?”
With a tight lipped smile, I snap at the seatbelt across my chest.
“You’re not wearing yours.”
“Oh,” he says, buckling himself quickly.
Jesus, he’s not with it. Little fears crop up in my mind. Is a date out in the public too much for him? Or did he get his ass handed to him by HR? Or could that happen if they somehow find out we’re dating?
Shit, my excitement is threatened.
“Cole?”
“Huh?”
The gentle pull upward on his lips is a relieving sight.
“I asked what made you choose this restaurant?”
The air has shifted again. I can’t keep up. Normally he’s calm. Or pissed. But tonight there’s something I can’t read.
Pushing away my anxieties, I remind myself that I just need to be myself. If we’re meant to fall in love and stay there, it will happen. Freaking myself out is a surefire way to get a trapeze trip into the sky and go crashing into the ground.
“Well,” I say, leaning back and giving him my dazzling smile, “When we first had dinner, you got me your favorite, chicken alfredo. I know you’re a fan of these little smaller places, but I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
The smile on his face is so nice and easy. Ah, such a relief.
“That’s sweet of you.”
I smile back at him.
His hair has grown a little over the summer and little curls spread over his forehead slightly.
The white button up matches mine but he’s wearing a simple gold chain and navy blue dress pants. Thanks to me, he’s got the cutest little pink rose fastened to his shirt, matching mine.
Only for Sal will I wear the dark gray dress slacks I have on. I had to be a little more comfortable, wearing a light pink shirt that peaks a smidge from under my button up. I wonder if he hates it, but I think it’s cute, especially since it matches our roses.
We look good. And while I don’t want to do this too often, I’m glad we’re dressed as we are because when we let valet take his car away and walk in, I have the overwhelming sense I don’t belong.
We’re brought to our reserved table and are offered a drink menu that has to be purchased by the bottle.
I prepared for this, though I see Sal glancing at me with concern.
“Have you been here before?” He asks.
I shake my head. “Have you?”
He nods.
My heart sinks a little. “With your mom?”
His response is a half smile. “Once, she said it was too pretentious.”
The comfort he speaks of her eggs me on to ask more.
“So where did she prefer to eat?”
“She loved food that reminded her of home, so she would search for anywhere that had people from her home country.” He places the menu down and my enthusiasm for my plans damper. I failed.
“However,” he says, reaching across the little wooden table and grabbing my hand, “She preferred eating at home the best because she said that’s where the most important people are.”
There’s a tightening in my throat and I’m not sure why it gets me, but the urge to leave and go cook him dinner myself almost makes me get up.
The waiter comes back and Sal pulls his hand from mine.
I don’t bother to look at the menu because I only know two options, thanks to Google. “We’ll have your best bottle of Beaujolais.”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter says, taking the drink menus.
“Also, can we have two plates of your chicken alfredo?”
The waiter pulls his pen out and jots it down.
“Would you like anything else?”
Sal shakes his head.
I’ve ordered the perfect wine, one that Google suggested and taught me how to say by listening to it hundreds of times.
There’s that look again.
Crouching closer, I inch my chair toward Sal. The loud scraping noise sends a couple heads turning in our direction.
A few eyes continue to google us. Or perhaps it’s my imagination.
Reaching out my hand, I wait for him to give me his.
“What’s up? You seem off today.” I never thought I’d say that to him.
Angry? Always. Sad? I mean, his mom died, so of course. Annoyed? Totally.
But this? What is this? I can’t keep guessing.
“I mean, I know this night has been a flop-”
The frown creasing his brow is easier to read, perfect that’s what I wanted.
“It hasn’t been a flop, Cole. This is all really sweet of you.”
“I know it’s hard being seen as a gay couple..”
The big sigh means I’m on the right track.
I use my free hand to rub up and down on his thumb.
“I just wanted to give you a nice date.”
Dropping his head to the side, I recognize the frustration and stop talking.
“You look really good. And you’ve been amazing.”
“But?”
Oh shit, is he ending things?
Have I crossed some line?
“Honestly, you look really good. In the car I was speechless from how handsome you are.”
“Oh.”
A smile cracks across his face and suddenly the entire room is drowned out.
“I appreciate all of this. The wine will be perfect, the meal will be delicious. But this isn’t you, it’s not us.” He doesn’t leave space for me to interject because he says, “However, I’m with you, so it will be a great time.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Besides, I should be doing all this for you, baby.”
It’s been so long since he’s called me that, and now he’s saying it in public!
“Your wine,” the waiter says, interrupting us.
“Thank you,” Sal says, but his gaze never leaves me.
A look that’s far more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever be.