Better Than Friends (7 page)

—Bob Feller

M
ONDAY
MORNING
couldn’t come soon enough. I relished a return to my mundane routine with long hours spent with my head buried in law books and research. I needed the certainty and solidity I found in practicing law. So what if my area of expertise was on the dry side? I thrived on facts and intelligence written in simple black and white. It grounded me and made sense to me in a world that was oftentimes chaotic.

I was currently working on an eminent-domain case on behalf of a small environmental government agency to repurpose a plot of land outside of DC for a small solar energy project, which would bring work and new resources to the now-blighted area. It basically meant a ton of research and paperwork for me, but I liked the idea of being involved in an environmentally conscious project. I strongly believed in renewing and reusing our resources. I might not be the guy on the front line, but I liked to think I was contributing nonetheless.

I was deeply engaged in a complex encroachment detail when my cell phone buzzed on my desk. I ignored it, but it wouldn’t stop buzzing. Irritated, I picked it up and answered abruptly.

“Curt Townsend.”

“Whoa, you sound official. Isn’t this your cell?” Matt teased.

“Hey. Sorry. I’m in the middle of something. What’s up?”

“I figured I’d get your voice message, but I’m basically calling to apologize. I shouldn’t have jumped on your case yesterday. I mean, it’s your business and—”

“Aaron made you call, huh?”

“Well, he may have suggested it.” Matt laughed good-naturedly. “I’m actually calling for another reason too.”

I pushed away from my desk and walked to the window to stare out at the park across the street. The trees had reclaimed their springtime greens, and the weather was mild enough that the benches were full of people trying to sneak in a bit of sunshine during their lunch breaks.

“Yes?” I prodded.

Matt sighed before continuing. I got the feeling he was a little uncomfortable, which was instantly intriguing.

“Aaron has this friend he’d like to introduce you to, and before you say no—”

“No.”

“C’mon, man. Before you say no, I’m supposed to tell you he’s really hot and very smart. He wanted me to get your okay to give him your phone number.”

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t want to. I had a pile of law books on my desk, and that was where I wanted to be. Not talking about blind dates and being set up with random guys. I closed my eyes briefly and sighed heavily.

“I don’t think I—”

“You said you did, though. Remember? You said, and I’ll quote loosely here, ‘From now on I won’t be a total douche who does nothing but work. I’ll get out there and start meeting new guys.’ Ring a bell? It was just yesterday, man. I’m sure your memory is a little better than that.”

“Ugh! Fuck. Okay, fine!”

“Good boy. His name is—”

“No. Wait. No.”

“Curt….”

“Well, tell me something about him. How old is he? What does he do? Where is he from?”

“How the hell would I know any of that shit?”

“Seriously? You want to set me up with someone you know nothing about?”

“Aaron knows him.” Matt spoke those three little words as though they should tell me everything I needed to know and then some. “Look, he works at a marketing company that does some advertising with Aaron’s magazine. I think he’s our age, or maybe a little older. After that, you’d have to trust Aar. He has great taste.”

“I’d agree except for the very glaring fact that he’s with you.”

“Ha-ha.” I smiled into my phone at his deadpan response. Matt was a good sport and a fun verbal sparring partner. “Man, it’s a couple of hours max. Dinner, talk…. You don’t have to pick out china patterns with the guy. And you never know, it may go better than you think.”

I couldn’t think of a good reason not to agree. Matt was right. It was exactly what I said I’d do. Get out there. Meet new guys. Try to participate in a social life of some sort. None of that would happen if I always said no.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. But don’t ask me again or I may change my mind. And can you at least get his name for me, asshole?”

“Sure thing. I’ll have Aaron text it to you. Good luck, Casanova.” Matt made a kissing sound loud into the receiver and hung up.

I shrugged and walked back over to my desk and my research before I started to fret about the unknown caller. A date. I smiled and made myself refocus. I’d worry about what I agreed to later. No doubt it would give me a serious case of indigestion. At least it would keep me from thinking about Jack.

A text message from Aaron came a few minutes later with an emoticon smiley face and a name. Paul Fallon.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
Saturday afternoon I was back on my sofa watching my beloved San Francisco Giants trounce the Padres when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and wondered if it was Paul calling to cancel the coffee date we’d set up for the next day. I answered it, thinking about what I could do to fill in my time if he wasn’t available. There was only so much time I could really allow myself to lay on the sofa. My apartment was a mess. I could clean it or go to the gym or—

“Hi. Curt?”

I was unprepared for the sexy voice on the line. Damn. I sat up and muted the sound from the television.

“Yeah, um….” Shit. I was instantly nervous. I knew it was Him, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it until he confirmed it.

“It’s Jack. How’ve you been?

“Yeah, um… good. You?” Damn. I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated at my sudden loss of speech.

Silence. Great start. And then Jack’s laughter rang out loud and clear. I smiled into my cell and felt instantly at ease.

“I’m good, Curtis.”

I could practically feel his smile. I lay back on my sofa and kicked my leg over the back as I conjured an image of Jack with his pirate grin and mischievous eyes.

“You there?”

“Sorry! Yes. The Giants are playing and….” I was fumbling badly and probably saying all the wrong things. My hands felt clammy and gross. God, he made me nervous.

Jack chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, as long as it’s baseball. By the way, I have tickets to a game next weekend. You interested?”

“Uh….”

“The Nationals are playing the Reds and—”

“Yes!”

“Cool. I think it’s an afternoon game. I’ll pick you up. Text me your address at the number I’m calling you from, okay? Talk to you later.”

“Sure. Okay. Thanks.”
Stop talking, Curt.
I closed my eyes, willing my heart to beat at a normal rate as I stared at my cell.

What had happened here? In the space of one week, I went from being a dateless wonder to having the guy who was the equivalent to every crazy dream-man I’d ever fantasized about asking me out. How did he even get my number? I would have absolutely remembered giving it to him. Whoa. I stared unseeing at the game on the television. I didn’t know what was going on but I certainly wasn’t going to question it.

I
N
MY
excitement over my impending date with Jack, I almost forgot about the coffee date I’d made with Aaron’s friend the following morning. My head was filled with thoughts of Jack. What would he wear? I’d only seen him in the tux, and the idea of him in tight-fitted jeans made me half-hard with lust. Would the weather be warm enough that I’d get a glimpse of his tattoos? I had a vision of him in a super-snug T-shirt with his muscular arms and gorgeous ink-work on full display. Of course, I didn’t know where his ink was, but the fantasy was a good one.

Yeah, the idea of a coffee date with a guy named Paul paled in comparison. However, I said I’d go. So I did.

W
E
HAD
arranged to meet at a small café on M Street in Georgetown. It was fairly close to my apartment, so I walked the couple of blocks and of course ended up being there way too early. I had too much energy to wait inside, so I took a walk up the avenue toward the university. I carefully tracked the time on my watch. I didn’t want to be late, either. I hated being late for anything.

It was a glorious Sunday morning. The sun was bright in an endless blue sky with just the slightest hint of a breeze in the air. The streets were already busy with joggers, shoppers, and tourists enjoying the fine spring weather. I passed a bar my friends and I frequented when we were in law school. It was obviously closed, but for some reason just passing by brought a flash of memory of easier, more carefree times. My friends were right. I needed to get out more. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to that bar, and it was one of my favorites. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked on only to stop short at the tattoo parlor next door.

I peered in the window, curious about what the inside looked like. It was dark but it reminded me of a small hair salon with chairs on either side of the space and mirrors along both walls. Any wall space not covered in mirrors was covered with pictures, presumably of happy tattoo recipients. I would have liked to have seen some of the designs up close. I gave a half-laugh before turning to make my journey back toward the coffee shop. What was my sudden obsession with body art?

I wasn’t looking as I turned and bumped hard into someone coming in the opposite direction. I looked up and automatically apologized… to Jack.

“Hey there!”

“Hi. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… how are you? What are you doing here?”
Nice one, Curt.

“Good. You? Funny how we keep bumping into each other.” He was dressed in workout gear. My mouth watered at the sight of his muscular thighs showcased in fitted running pants.

“Yeah, uh… I was just meeting someone for coffee and—”

“At the tattoo parlor?” His blue eyes lit with teasing humor. For some reason it put me instantly at ease.

“Yeah, smart-ass. I was thinking of having a steamed latte drawn on my bicep right about here.” I pointed to my upper right arm. “That way I’d be choosing something I know would always be meaningful.”

“Good idea, but would you go for coffee or a steamed latte? I’d stick with coffee if I were you. You may not be as into fancier drinks when you’re an old man.”

“Sage advice, I’m sure.”

Jack smiled widely and adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

“Joking aside, this is actually a very reputable shop if you’re interested in getting one done.” He inclined his head toward the tattoo parlor.

“Well, good to know. You headed to the gym? Isn’t this area kind of out of your way?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the gym. He lives nearby.”

We stood blocking pedestrian traffic as we stared at each other. I watched the corners of Jack’s eyes crinkle as he squinted in the sunlight. I knew he was older than me, but only the laugh lines at his eyes and around his generous mouth gave his years away. I found them incredibly appealing. A passerby hit my elbow with a shopping bag, tearing me from my reverie. Fuck! I was going to be late meeting Paul.

“I have to go. I’m gonna be late now.”

“Okay. I’ll see you next weekend, Curtis.” Jack gave me a mischievous wink and chuckled softly at my flustered countenance before he leaned in, kissed the side of my mouth, and turned to walk up the street.

I stared after him like a complete moron until someone jostled my arm again and shook me back to the present. I stepped aside and glanced briefly at my watch. I made my way back to the coffee shop as fast as possible, trying to calmly navigate my way around annoyingly slow-walking tourists in an effort not to be obnoxiously late meeting Paul.

My lightweight navy V-neck sweater felt like a winter garment when I opened the door to the warm café. I scanned the small sitting area, looking for a man in a red pullover. That was my only hint. I had no idea if he was short, tall, skinny, round, young, old… I didn’t even know his hair color. So I glanced around to see if I could spot a man wearing red anything.

There was a tall man standing near the end of the line who kept looking toward the entrance. He was lean and fine-boned with short blond hair and handsome, sharp, even features. He was wearing designer jeans that hugged his ass just so… and a bright red, snug-fitting crew neck sweater.

“Paul?”

“Oh hello. You’re Curt?” He must have noticed me just as I addressed him.

First impressions were particularly interesting when you’d been set up with someone you knew nothing about. I had to admit, I was favorably impressed. Paul was elegantly good-looking with a drop-dead sexy British accent. I silently reminded myself to thank Aaron. Even if nothing came from our coffee date, at least the eye candy was worth the price of a latte. Of course, thinking of a latte made me smile at Jack’s inane suggestion that I tattoo one on my arm.

“Are you all right?” Paul looked a little concerned.

“Sorry. Yes, of course. I’m Curt. It’s nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Can I get you something to drink?” I looked up at the drink menu behind the counter, hoping my companion wouldn’t notice my reddened cheeks. Geez, I needed to pull it together.

“I’m thinking a steamed latte sounds lovely, but it’s my treat. I asked you.”

Again, I smiled stupidly at the mention of a steamed latte and decided it was a sign, so I ordered the same. I thanked Paul for the drink and offered to find us a table. The shop was very small, and tables were hard to come by if you didn’t pounce at the first signs of a patron gathering their belongings to vacate one. I spotted one freeing up and made a beeline toward it, offering the young couple who’d been sitting there an itinerary of “fun things to do in DC” for the day as payment of sorts. They were tourists who I was sure would have spent all morning pouring over their maps if I didn’t intervene. They probably thought I was nice, but all I wanted was a seat and the opportunity to check out my date before he joined me at the table.

Paul found me a few minutes later and handed me my steamed latte.