Chapter 6
Brian
“You look hot,” Kendra told me as she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork.
She’d insisted on helping me pick out something to wear on my date with Sam and styling me, as she called brushing my hair and telling me to wear the old watch that had belonged to my granddad instead of my usual smartwatch.
“Someone’s gonna get lucky tonight, short king. ”
I burst into an embarrassing, snorty laugh. “I mean, I hope so, but I’m not counting on anything.”
Kendra fixed me with a lopsided smile and shook her head. “Samwise Meyers isn’t going to be able to resist your cute ass tonight,” she said. “And lucky for you, I’ve got an overnight shift at the hospital, so you’re free and clear to come back here.”
“Thanks,” I said, face heating. All of me heating, really. “I’m still not making any assumptions about how tonight will go.”
“Mmm hmm,” Kendra answered in a way that said she’d already decided how things were going to go in her head.
I really didn’t want to make any assumptions, though.
Sure, Sam and I had been building up to this date for what felt like years now, but there were still a lot of unknown factors.
God only knew I’d held back a lot of things about myself over the years.
I wasn’t entirely certain how Sam would see me if he knew the whole truth.
But that’s what dates were for, right? They were opportunities to really focus in on people and get to know them so that you could see whether there was more than just attraction there.
I really wanted there to be more than attraction between me and Sam.
Sam was the most amazing guy I’d ever known.
He was smart, kind, and funny. He took charge of things in a way that made me feel like everything would be alright and my life wouldn’t randomly fall apart because of a few learning challenges.
Or, at least, that my life wouldn’t fall apart a second time because of those challenges.
I was hopeful, but well aware that I had some hurdles to overcome before I could breathe easy.
The first of those hurdles was the reason why I showed up at Closed Mondays a good fifteen minutes before Sam and I had agreed to meet there. There was something important I had to do first.
“Excuse me,” I asked a cute Filipino waiter as he brought a handful of menus back to the front. “Can I look at one of those?”
“Sure,” he said, handing one over with a bright smile. “If you have any questions, just ask.”
“Oh, I will,” I said nervously, accepting the menu.
The menu was one of the kind that didn’t have any pictures.
I let out a disappointed sigh and bit my lip as I struggled over the text.
The lettering was crisp and neat, but that didn’t stop the words from shifting around before my eyes and rendering themselves completely unreadable.
Some fonts were easier to make out with dyslexia, but what I was seeing wasn’t one of them.
I glanced around anxiously for the server, my heart rate kicking up.
I didn’t want to think about what might happen if Sam caught me trying and failing to read something as simple as a menu.
I already knew what happened when people discovered I was functionally illiterate.
They laughed and sneered and ran me out of town on a rail.
Well, not a rail exactly, but they made it impossible to stick around with my head held high.
I caught the waiter’s eye and flagged him over. “Need help?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, heat rising up my neck to my face. “Could you, um, tell me more about this dish?” I pointed randomly to something on the page.
The server smiled. “That’s the roasted Brussels sprouts with maple bacon starter,” he said. “One of my favorites.”
I winced. I had hoped I was pointing to a main. “And this?” I asked, pointing farther down the page.
The server gave me a brief, curious look. “That’s the vegetarian smashburger with black beans,” he said. “Served with a side of sweet potatoes. Another really good choice.”
“Oh,” I said.
The server must have guessed a few things then. “We’ve got a few mains, herb roasted chicken with butter beans, pork ribs with tangy barbecue sauce, or if fish is your thing, the chef makes a mean fish pie. Do you need me to read off the ingredients for each one?”
“Um, I—”
Before I could beg the server to do exactly that, the door opened and Sam strolled in. As soon as he saw me, he burst into a broad smile.
I let go of the menu and jumped away from the server as if he’d been offering me crack instead of helping me to save face.
“Hey,” Sam greeted me. He swept a look over me and said, “Wow, you look amazing.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I grinned in return. And then, because the buzz of anxiety inside me was a little too much, I said, “I got here early and was checking out the menu.” He didn’t need to know why.
“Smart idea,” Sam said. He reached me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. The gesture took me completely by surprise and had my head spinning.
I was in a blur for a second as Sam stepped to the side to check in with the hostess.
After he did, I noticed the server I’d been talking to zipping in to whisper something in the hostess’s ear.
She nodded, and I wasn’t at all surprised a few seconds later when she sat us at what turned out to be one of my server friend’s tables.
“Hi guys, I’m Emanuel, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” he said. “Can I get you started with something to drink? We have all the usuals, water, soda, iced tea, and tonight we have a special mojito to beat the heat.”
I smiled gratefully at the man. He was going to help me get through this date and save face.
“The mojito sounds nice,” Sam said, relaxed and gorgeous. “Do you want one?”
“Sure,” I said, starting to relax myself. I could do this. I could enjoy the date, get to know Sam, and not worry about embarrassing myself and revealing how dumb I was.
I immediately heard my mom’s voice in my head telling me I wasn’t dumb, I just needed to apply myself, but since my mom was the last person I wanted in my head on a date with Sam, I ignored her.
“It’s nice to finally sit down together outside of work and without the audience we usually get at home,” Sam opened the conversation as soon as Emanuel left to fetch our drinks.
“It is,” I said, telling myself everything would be okay, Sam and I actually knew each other pretty well, and the whole date thing was just a formality. “And to talk without the specter of games night competition hanging over our heads,” I joked.
Sam laughed. I loved that sound. I could seriously get used to it. “Absolutely,” he said. “And even though I’ve already said it before, your games night idea was brilliant.”
“I just hope we can keep it up and that everyone who came to both nights last week comes again,” I said.
Half a second later, I caught how many innuendos I’d inadvertently stuffed into that one sentence. My face heated so hard it could probably be seen from space.
Sam definitely caught my words. He flushed, too, but on him it looked hot and inviting, like he was definitely hoping that was where the night would take us. “Oh, people will definitely come again,” he said, dropping his voice a little.
It was probably a good thing that Emanuel came back with our drinks right then. He took our orders as well, coaching me seamlessly through choosing what to eat without me having to look at the intimidating menu once. Even better, Sam didn’t seem any wiser about my struggles.
That didn’t mean I was out of the woods, though, as I discovered as soon as the conversation resumed.
“Do you have any plans to head back to Pittsburgh to visit your family before the end of summer?” Sam asked, settling into his chair and watching me like he thought I was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Um, no,” I said, squirming a little.
Sam frowned slightly. “You don’t go back to visit that often,” he observed.
“I don’t,” I said, spreading my hands on the soft tablecloth and staring at my nails for a second to delay answering him. “I don’t have the best relationship with my hometown.”
Sam’s face pinched for a second, like he was trying to figure that out. “But you get along okay with your family, right?”
“I get along okay,” I repeated, looking up at him. “My family isn’t like your family, though. They’re not as…accepting.”
“Of you being gay?” he asked flat out.
I shrugged, trying to pretend I wasn’t uncomfortable.
“They don’t love it, but they accept it.
It’s more like they don’t—” I paused, uncertain what to say without saying too much.
I bit my lip, then said, “Both of my parents are teachers. Not just teachers, they’re university professors.
” Things might have been easier if they were elementary school teachers used to dealing with learning challenges, but I hadn’t been so lucky.
“And they don’t like that you’re working as a barista?” Sam guessed.
“Something like that,” I said, reaching for my drink.
“No wonder you and Diccon are best friends,” Sam said, his manner easy and accepting. “He gets hung up on the fact that he never finished college and that he chose to work for the family business instead.”
“Yeah, we do have that in common,” I said, trying to mirror Sam’s ease. “Although in Diccon’s case, he actually got his associate’s degree, whereas I—”
I stopped in sudden panic. I’d definitely said too much already.
I needed a way to back out of the conversation before Sam started asking questions and I had to admit to the humiliation that still stung so hard, years later, that I couldn’t even think about institutes of higher learning without feeling sick to my stomach.
“I didn’t realize you were in college at all,” Sam said.