4. Felix
FOUR
FELIX
How did this happen?
Well, I know how this happened but how on earth have I found myself in this position? Out of the house after the girls’ bedtime, in a dark bar surrounded by potential dates?
I need to stop making deals with the girls like that. As happy as trying to hook me up makes them, I can’t keep indulging them, especially when love is the last thing on my mind. And probably will be for a very long time after what Mark put me through.
The doors to this guy have closed.
Wait. That sounds weird.
The shutters are down.
That’s weirder.
In any case my dating days are over. Like over over. Like I’ll probably go gray and old before I realize I’ve wasted my life and libido because of one stupid motherfucker. And I’m fine with that. One hundred percent A-okay.
I tap on my cell and my girls’ photo from last year at Disney California flashes right back at me, informing me that the time is almost seven.
They look so innocent in that picture. Of course that was before Mark completely lost his mind and gave Elsa nightmares. I’m still waiting for Arya to have an adverse reaction to her dad’s stupidity but thankfully she’s young enough for things not to stick. Either that or I’ll be dragged into a therapist in twenty years and told how badly I failed as a parent. It’s all a guessing game at this point.
I really, really hope this place works out. I can’t take another move. Another shock to the system. Another search for happiness that could give anyone a headache.
“Welcome—” someone starts but the microphone screeches, making everyone reach for their ears. “I’m sorry about that,” says the same elegant woman I saw at Caspian’s the other day as she walks away from the speakers. “Welcome to our first Season of Love event! We like to start early in January so everyone has three chances to find their soulmate so rest assured, if today doesn’t work out we’ll be back again next week and the week after that.”
“Here you go,” the bartender, a ginger man with bright green eyes, says and passes me my drink. A very large, very red, very full red wine.
“You’re a saint!” I tell him and bite my tongue before I ask him if he’s single.
I don’t need to embarrass myself like that. Especially if I don’t mean it. I’m just here to appease the girls.
“So the way Cupid’s Speed-Dating works is how all speed-dating works, really. You will have three minutes to meet everyone in the room. If you’re interested in them simply put an X next to their name. At the end of the night we’ll collect all forms and if we find any mutual Xs we will provide you with the contact information of your potential soulmate!”
Agh. There was that word again. Soulmate .
I used to believe in those once upon a time. I used to think I’d met mine. I used to live in a fairy-tale dream.
And then I woke up.
“Now you’ll notice we have a mix of genders here. That’s because here at Maplewood we don’t discriminate. We want everyone to have an equal opportunity to meet their special someone or their next best friend,” the woman, whose name I believe is Agnes, says and smiles at everyone.
“Also, I’m pretty sure the logistics of running sexuality-based events is a nightmare,” the bartender mumbles and when I turn to him he shies away and goes to help another patron.
I guess he does have a point, but it’s nice to know this place is more than just talk in their acceptance and equality. It is the main reason I picked this town to relocate to with the girls. Maplewood, the queerest town in Vermont. And probably the whole of the States, especially at a time like this for the country. It’s nice to know there’s still a safe haven for people like me.
“If you’d like to pick up your interest forms and we’ll get started,” Agnes says and a whole bunch of people storm to the front while I nurse my wine. I’m not in any rush to meet the love of my life.
Eventually I go up front and I’m not only given an interest form but also given a green name badge. Which means I’m one of the people who has to rotate around the room. Great. Now I’m also at risk of falling because I might not be ready to meet my special someone but I’m definitely ready to drink a bottle or two.
A bell rings and I take the first seat available where a lovely young woman waves at me and starts talking about herself, barely taking a breath between pauses, if there even are any.
As the night goes on, I lose count of how many people I’ve gone through, although if my blank interest form is any indication, it’s about ten.
Thankfully, just as I’m running low on gas—and by gas I mean wine—we break for five to refill the tank…and I think I’m already drunk and this metaphor—or is it an analogy—is on its last legs.
As am I.
I can’t keep going through this. I’m way too tired and way too disillusioned to enjoy any of it. If it weren’t for the wine I might have focused on making friends but Poppy is free and childless for the night so I get to drink myself silly. It might be the only chance I get.
After forever at the bar waiting to be served I go back to the event space and try to find where, or with whom, I’d last spoken and take the seat next to them.
“Hi, I’m Felix.”
“Hello, Felix. Are you looking for the one? Your Prince Charming? The one who will make all your dreams come true?” says the guy across from me.
I look up from my glass.
He’s wearing a cap that covers half his face but the chiseled body bursting at the seams of his black T-shirt sparks my interest. The bottom half of his face, his beard, is trimmed to a perfection that makes me envious, and eventually I zero in on his eyes, narrow and dark as they are under the shade of the cap, that make me lean forward so I can get a better look at him.
I move the candle from the side of the table right into the middle and it’s like one of those shots in a horror movie where someone uses a flashlight under their chin to light their face.
“So?” he asks, glancing down at the candle and moving it to the side again.
What’s this guy’s problem?
“Is that your name? So? Well, nice to meet you, So,” I say and bite the inside of my cheek before I smirk and give myself away.
“No. So as in so, what is your answer? Are you looking for the one?”
“Pftt! The ‘one’ doesn’t exist.”
He snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“Why?” I ask. “Do you want to be my one?”
“What? No! That’s not what I said.”
“Oh, so you don’t think I can be your one? Well, gee, thanks?”
The guy huffs again and sits back, fixing his cap but giving me a full view of his chest. The T-shirt might be black but his chest is sculpted against it as if bursting to escape the tiny garment and I’m not gonna lie. I want to peek underneath.
I also notice his T-shirt has a white heart struck-through in a white circle but before I can study it better he leans close again.
“I’m just saying,” he says. “If you’re looking for your soulmate you should stop.”
“’Cause it’s you? Well, someone thinks highly of themselves.”
“No!” he exclaims and glances to the front where Agnes is talking to another woman. When he turns to me again he covers his face with his hand.
Is…is he hiding from someone? Is that why he’s being weird?
“No. I’m not saying I’m your soulmate.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m trying to say love is a scam and the sooner you wake up and realize it the happier you’ll be.”
I burst out in laughter and the mysterious stranger sinks lower in his chair before he speaks again.
“Will you stop that?”
“I can’t.” I try to steady my breathing but I’m still far too amused. “You’re being so funny?”
“I’m not being funny. I’m being honest. You’re only bound to get hurt. People are far better single than they are in relationships.”
“Amen, sister.” I raise my glass and sip my wine.
“Huh?” he asks, glancing back at Agnes again.
“You think I don’t know love is a scam? Trust me, dude, I know that firsthand.”
The stranger raises his eyebrow and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from saying something inappropriate and deeply, deeply sexual. He might be delulu, but he’s sexy delulu and I want to feel his body in my hands. Inch by inch. Not that it would ever happen, even if I wanted it to happen. I’m just a little boy and he’s a man. I know how these guys pick their partners. Based on the size of their biceps. And even worse, the size of their dicks.
“Then you shouldn’t be here, dude.”
“Who said I want to be here?” I ask, teasing the rim of my wine glass with my lips to prevent me from doing something stupid, like licking his fingers, or his face.
“Are you trying to say you don't?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Maybe?” I shrug.
I have to admit, just when I started to think this night couldn’t get more boring, he shows up and makes things…interesting.
Interesting and spicy.
Because the more I talk to him, the more alive my body becomes. Even my groin area, which has gone into deep slumber since Mark’s descent into lunacy, throbs at the prospect of a good time with a hunk like that, even if it’s nothing but a fantasy.
“I don't buy it,” he says and pushes himself back so I can finally read the wording on his T-shirt, under the struck-through heart.
Anti-Valentine Club.
Curious.
“I didn’t ask you to buy it.”
“Well, I don’t rent it then,” he bites back.
“Good, because it’s not for rent either.”
“You’re impossible,” he says.
“Oh, you have no idea.” Okay this time, I do lick my wine glass very, very suggestively and even though I want to blush and run away, I don’t. I have no idea where this slutty Felix has come from but I’m not half mad at him.
He studies me for a second and I see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, which makes my insides flare with satisfaction.
“I meant—” he starts but has to stop and clear his throat before he continues. “I meant you’re impossible to talk to.”
“Am I? Weird, most people say I’m a breeze.”
Most people being me. I don’t know if it’s obvious yet but I don’t have many friends to tell me these things.
“So let me get it straight. You don’t believe in love but you’re here in a speed-dating event?”
“Maybe I’m being forced to.” I shrug and take the smallest sip of wine yet feel drunker than a second ago.
My cock is pulsing. I’ve never felt like this before. Not even with Mark. Not even when I was young and exploring my sexuality.
What is it about this guy that makes me so horny, in public? Especially a guy who’s being a weirdo, if not a dick.
Oh gosh. Has being rejected by Mark made me develop a perverted kink where I want to be hated? I sure hope not or I’ll have to lock myself in a monastery or something and avoid human contact for the rest of my life and I so don’t want to be a monk.
“Forced? Who would force someone to go speed-dating if they didn't want to?” He scoffs and his pink lips look so shiny and inviting that I have to stop and take a deep breath before I pin him down in front of everyone and have my dirty way with him.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t dated in so long. Maybe my self-induced drought is finally hitting back at me and making me…wild for the first, sexy-as-all-sin person I meet.
“Whoever it is must be very persuasive.” I raise my glass but don’t wait for him to clink with mine before I take a few gulps to quench this unexpected thirst.
When I put it down I realize he doesn’t have a drink.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“Why don’t you just admit you’re here to date.”
“Maybe I’m here to hook up,” I suggest and I don’t miss the way he flinches at that, but not in an “eww, David” kind of way. More like “hook up, you say?”
“Are you?” he asks with a slow slur that makes my insides thrum with need.
I open my mouth to answer him when a laugh from the table next to me wakes me up from this…whatever this is.
“No,” I say instead of what’s in my mind.
It’s all well and good being horny in public but I’m a family man in a small town. I don’t want to get a reputation before anyone’s gotten to know me.
“So you’re back to telling me that you’re being forced to be here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I don’t believe you.”
“Oh my lord, how can I convince you?” I tease him and put my wine glass on the table before I down its contents in record time.
“Point at the bad guys and tell me where they hurt you,” he says.
I roll my eyes, tap my phone and show him the girls. “They only hurt me when they came out but they can be pretty evil sometimes,” I say.
“Oh,” he says but I don’t miss how his brows knot in confusion and he looks from the phone to me and back to the phone before realization hits him and a smile crosses his face. “They’re cute though.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Which is why it’s hard to say no to them.”
“I can imagine.”
“So…what are you doing here?” I ask.
“I’m here to save you.”
“Save me?”
“Yeah. From love.”
I laugh again. “Then consider me saved because that’s the last thing on my mind.”
He smirks and leans even closer. “Really? Then may I interest you in a—” he starts but I never get to hear his proposal.
Was it going to be indecent? I’ll die wondering.
“Jack Hayworth! What on earth are you doing there?” Agnes is standing behind me and when I turn to look at her, her eyes are slits of fire glaring at my “speed-date.”
“Hi, Agnes!” he says, sinking lower into his seat.
“I don’t remember signing you in. Are you here to cause chaos again?”
“Me? Chaos? Just truth.” He smirks and takes his cap off, giving me an uninterrupted view of his eyes. They are gorgeous. They also make him look extremely naughty and I can’t help but lick my lips. He’s sinful.
“And would your truth have anything to do with dissing love?”
“It does,” I say with a very tattletale expression on my face.
When I glance at Jack Hayworth he’s gasping in shock at me and I can’t help but grin.
“I won’t tolerate your BS, young man. Now either get with the program or get out,” Agnes raises her voice and some of the other tables turn to look at her.
“If by BS you mean how love is nothing but corporate greed dressed up as a fairy tale then you’re right. Love is BS,” he also raises his voice and turns to the other patrons.
“Well, well, well, you’re a bad boy, aren’t you?” I all but purr.
“The baddest!” Agnes screeches. “Out, Hayworth. You won’t ruin this event for everyone.”
Hayworth puts his hands up and gets out of his seat.
“Fine. But I want you all to know when your lovers turn out to be assholes I’ll be here to tell you I told you so. Down with love. Join the Anti-Valentine Club and celebrate the end of heartbreak!”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
“You’re the baddest boy,” I mumble as he’s being dragged out by Agnes.
Hayworth turns around. “What can I say? Everyone loves a bad boy. But only for a night. Because this boy is not up for grabs.” He winks at me and I’m left watching the kerfuffle he’s caused and wonder if that was a statement or an offer.
And would I care if it was the latter?
Yes. So much yes. Who wouldn’t want a night under the sheets with a chiseled Greek god? At least he came with a warning. He was only good for a night. And my guess was he was very good at that.
The bell rings marking the end of the three minutes and my return to reality.
Yeah, keep on dreaming Felix. You’re not a slut. You’re a dad. And you need to focus on raising your girls and giving them a safe home to be their best selves.
And with that thought, I decide to give up on this hopeless endeavor and go back home before I do something stupid.
Like get wasted and go in search of Hayworth or any willing hunk in town.