You look shocked. I can't say that helps my ego, Roxas. But at least it seems I have managed to catch your attention, hopefully more than Mickey fucking Mouse has, though I imagine that's particularly hard. Everyone seems to have something to say about that mouse.
I hear your shoes squeak against the ugly white tiles, drowning out Alanis for one heavenly split second (thank you so much. If I didn't know for sure that you were an absolutely angelic being, I definitely knew now.) It looked very much like I had just caught you off guard. It looks like I have done nothing but do that since you made eye contact with me. I hope you like that in a man. One that pulls that little expensive carpet runner out from under your very expensive shoes. Or are they expensive? You are shopping here for vintage Mickey fucking Mouse tees after all. I wouldn't have expected that unless it was maybe a Gucci x Mickey fucking Mouse line or something. Aren't those things ridiculous?
You finally turn all the way around to meet my eyes. You are holding that bag I had just given you like it was going to be snatched back at any minute. That's particularly cute, considering you bought it for sentimental reasons. Will you even wear that shirt, I wonder.
I felt the urge to speak up and fill the silence. I wanted to say something absolutely pathetic like "If you don't want to, that's fine!" Or even worse, "If you don't recognize me, I'm Axel. I'm actually living just down the hall from you." I think I might have seriously considered buying a gun and just killing myself if that managed to get out of my mouth. Which, (luckily for you) I didn't say any of that.
I waited. It was hard. But I waited for you. I watched as your lips slowly parted, your eyes furrowing. God your lips are like two glossy raspberries. I'm sorry for thinking this so soon into our meeting, but I definitely fantasized about sliding probably twelve different things between those lips. Maybe you could take that as a compliment, though. I just typically hate being so forward, sexually. I think that's mostly because I have never found someone on the same sexual wavelength as I am. Not until I met you, anyways, Roxas.
"Yeah," You knocked my erection back into me when you finally spoke. It didn't go away, though. Don't think it went away. "Yeah, I'm hungry."
I want you to think I'm cool. I want to make it easy for you to long for me. It's hard work sometimes, and this is absolutely one of the hardest times for me to be the man you want to fuck you hard. "Okay."
It worked though and your face lit up to make the color of those wet look lips and my god do you look hydrated. I'm going to admit, though, I had no idea if this response would work in the long run, though. Would you just walk away thinking 'this weirdo didn't give me a place to meet him.' I was really worried that it would backfire, but I was so stupid for thinking something like that would happen with us. You did exactly what you should have done to start this. You walked outside and you leaned against the glass window, pretending to fiddle on your phone. You were too nervous to read any of those Tweets, weren't you? I could see it through the window. Your eyes were glazed over, like you were visualizing everything I could do to you with my hands. I saw you looking at my hands when I was bagging your Mickey fucking Mouse shirt. You were looking at how big they are. That only makes sense. You're small. You've probably asked yourself growing up why your hands weren't big like mine. I bet it all made sense when you finally saw mine.
Though, I'm not going to lie to you, Roxas. I was just as flustered as you were. I stood there for thirty whole minutes watching you through the window. I'm not even sure if I had anyone try to buy anything. I don't care, either. This is a dead end job to keep me busy during school. But now that I've met you, I need a good job. One that can let me keep you at home waiting with baited breath for me to get home and take care of all your needs. I'm thinking really far ahead now, but that's what you do to me.
I spent too much time looking at you and not thinking. "Still hungry, I hope?" I should have said something cooler. It would have been way more impactful if I had said something cooler. I beat myself up for that one for a little while, so I hope you didn't notice how dumb that was, but if you did, don't worry, I punished myself for that. You definitely deserve better than that.
"I'm starving." You say back quicker than I thought you would. Your sunkissed blond hair reflected the midday sunlight directly into my eyes. Do you know how that kind of hair makes you look? You look like you don't exist. Some kind of hair model or something like that. I don't know if you know about the rumors that people spread about you (or even if you know people talk about you at all) but I've heard more than a few times that you bleach it. Honestly, looking at you up close, it looks all natural to me. Which makes my opinion of you slip upwards a little more quickly than I was prepared for. You are really starting to seem like a type that has no idea how he looks and has no care for it but just accidentally comes out looking like some kind of perfectly crafted renaissance painting. To be honest, this excited me and also pissed me off a little bit, too. I'm sorry, Roxas, but I want to be honest with you all as much as I can be.
I didn't think too hard about where to take you to eat, I figured you'd be more interested if I put in less effort than my instincts told me to do.
That little run down diner probably said "He comes here all the time and is just taking you where he always goes after work. You're not special, baby." And that works perfectly. I've heard talk of the men you'd seen before. Drooling all over you and treating you like you'd break in two if they gave you something you weren't prepared for. I wanted to give you everything you've never been offered. No offense to your tastes, but your tastes are shit. I'm gonna make that a nonproblem.
"So…" You say quietly while rereading the menu for the tenth time. It's almost like you can't focus around me, Roxas. I'm just kidding. I know you can't focus. I'm distracting. Staring right through you. I can practically see into you. See your heart beating from the inside. "I don't know if I've said it yet, but my name's Roxas."
Oh my god, you were introducing yourself to me. Do you really not know that everyone knows who you are? Or are you trying to seem like you don't know that? Would you like it more if I admitted to knowing you, or would it catch you off guard once more if I tell you I didn't even know you went to the same school as me? Are you testing me with that introduction? I wouldn't be lying if I said that I was fighting my cock from smashing through the table in that moment. You're toying with me, and I like that about you. I didn't expect it. Though you constantly are surprising me in ways I find erotic.
"Axel." I responded, not looking away from you. I think you're finding my intensity...intimidating? It's hard to read exactly what reaction that was. There was a possibility you were finding my intensity just as eroitic as I was finding your games. I like that possibility but I'll try not to be too optimistic with you.
"I've actually seen you around before, I think." You say that without even glancing up at me. What a liar. You think? If you really weren't sure, you would be studying my face right now, trying to place me. You've seen me, and you like what you've seen. These games are really pushing my limit. I want you more than you can even imagine and that want is starting to increase to need. I'm starting to get light headed.
I want to test you, too. I want to push you. "Around? Around where?"
This makes you panic harder. Stop reacting that way. I've already passed my limit.
You bite those raspberry lips, and I desperately want them to bite me somewhere, anywhere.
"School. We go to the same college, I'm pretty sure…" Oh, Roxas, it's okay to say you've seen me and you find me interesting (at the very least.) You don't need the safety net of "I'm pretty sure." You can trust me.
"School?" Say it, baby. Say you've seen me and mean it.
"Y-yeah, we live in the same dorm. In the same hallway…" Yes, good boy. I felt like I won a presidential election. I'm sure that only you can make me feel this way from admitting something so insignificant.
"Oh," I say, finally breaking my stare. "Roxas, that's right. I knew that sounded familiar." I'm sorry for making you think I didn't know you for a second, but it was necessary to get to where we need to be.
Your reaction was cuter than I thought it could even be. Are you thinking it was stupid of you to assume I knew who you were? Oh my god, that's making me salivate.
"Don't your folks do some kind of craft thing for a living?" How do you feel about that, Roxas? Are you proud of your family's business? Embarrassed? Shameful? Could you not care less?
"Yeah, sort of something like that," You say meekly. Your shoulders close in on themselves as you respond. So you feel uncomfortable with it? Maybe embarrassed? Why? Do you hate the idea of having money? Is that why you came to my stupid little thrift shop?
Now that I mention it, you're not wearing the typical old money brands. The vibe is all wrong for old money. Not exactly Tom Buchanan and more Nick Carraway. An everyman, middle class college student aura emits off of you like everyone else. Not that I'm saying I don't like it. Just the opposite. Your heather gray sweatshirt, vintage jeans and white sneakers thing going on is really, really fucking cute. Just not really what expected when I imagined examining you up close and in the flesh. When I passed you in the hall, your innate status repelled me. Which (just so you know) I deeply regret now. If I had noticed all these things about you sooner, perhaps your tastes wouldn't have distracted both of us.
"I didn't know that you worked at the thrift store." You speak up, surprising me. I didn't anticipate you talking first. I thought I would have to respond first, but you just keep shocking me. You seem to think that running into me at the thrift store was awkward. Do you not want people knowing you shop there? Why?
"I do." I say, sounding fucking stupid. "I didn't know you shopped at that thrift store." I'm sorry for sounding so fucking stupid.
"I usually shop on Thursdays when they put new stuff out, but I didn't go yesterday, so I stopped by…" You smile slyly. Did you know I worked there?
"Ah, well, I don't work on Thursdays."
"Yeah, I can see that…"
"That's a shame."
You light up. Suddenly the smell of that feminine shampoo is flooding across the table at me and smacking me in the face. God, why are you making this even harder for me? Are you sweating? You must be. I made you sweat. You're definitely attracted to me.
It makes me feel like you came by on my shift before and saw me. Almost like you picked Thursdays to go simply because I don't work that day.
Thursday isn't even the day we put new things out, and you know I know that. I'm starting to feel more and more like this is you toying with me.
"I'm going to be honest," I say, taking a dive into some honesty with you. You perk up, your eyes finally locked tight onto mine. (That didn't help my issue, either.) "I know who you are. I see you all the time."
You look away. Dammit, just keep looking at me. Don't look at anything else.
"Oh, that actually surprises me." It does? Maybe you were being sincere about introducing yourself. That doesn't let me down any, though. "I pass you in the hallway, and you always look away from me."
"Do I?"
"Yeah, so I'm kind of really confused why you would suddenly ask me to go to lunch with you…" You laugh nervously. I guess it was intimidation you felt. That does let me down a little.
"Sticking with my honesty," You look back at me, this time a little less confident. You look ready to bounce at any moment. "I asked you because you smelled really good."
"S-smelled?" You looked completely surprised. Has no one ever said that to you before? I find that to be unlikely. You smell like candy. A floral candy. It's the kind of scent that I would mourn once we move in together and our scents mix. You wouldn't smell like that forever, and I hate that.
"Yeah, I guess it's your shampoo or something?" I lean back in the booth, pushing my menu to the end of the table. We did come here to eat, and I don't think the waitress has even walked by us yet. I want to pay for your food. I want to take you back to my place. I want to fuck you. "If you thought I didn't think you existed, why did you say yes and wait an entire half an hour?"
I pulled that carpet runner out from under you again. Your breath hitches and it shoots the air directly from your mouth across the table to my face. Oh jesus.
"Being one hundred percent honest with you," You pause and push your menu under mine. "You smell like tea leaves and I wanted to ask you where you got your boots."
My boots? Roxas, why do you keep putting these stupid little safety nets at the end of your sentences? You're not confident that I'll receive your comment well. You need a backup. At least you think you do. That's simply outrageous. You smelled me. You know my smell, and you say it's like tea leaves? What kind of tea, I want to ask desperately, but I can't, I need to keep you on the hook and that is a question I can absolutely ask you later when we're in bed.
I'll help you feel better if that's what you want, baby.
"I got them at work, actually."
"You snagged a pair of vintage Doc Martens before they could hit the floor? That just seems cruel to your patrons." You suddenly have energy. You must really have meant that comment about my boots. Huh.
"Well, if I see a pair of vintage Doc Martens in a size 12, I'm going to buy them." I smirk at you.
The smirk flusters you just as the waitress comes by to take our orders.
"Hi. Just in time, I just figured out what I wanted to eat." I smile at her, giving you some breathing room. I hope you're not too jealous. I have a natural smile but I'm trying not to spread it too wide for her. Maybe my polite flirtatious vibe will make you realize something you hadn't before. That would be great.
"I'll get a Coke and BLT with fries, please."
"Diet Coke and uh," You pause. You forgot to pick something, didn't you? So cute. "I'll get the same thing. Thank you."
"Okay, I'll get those drinks." She disappeared into the back, I assume. Not like I was looking so I can't be sure.
"I guess I shouldn't be mad. Those boots wouldn't have fit me anyway." You sigh. You really are jealous of my boots, huh? I'll get you some as soon as I get that high paying job I mentioned earlier. You wouldn't need to leave the house, so I'm not sure what you'd need them for, though.
"I'll keep my eye out just in case we get anymore in. I'll get them for you." I say, smiling at you. I'm praying you can read my mind as you look at me. It almost seems like for a minute that you picked it up. You're always so red around me. I've actually never seen your skin this color before. I wonder if it's this color all over or just on your cheeks.
"You don't have to do that, I think I can just get some on ebay if I really wanted…" You smile at the waitress as she places the drinks down in front of us, but look right back up at me as she leaves. "So, I'm kind of wondering what you're trying to do with this lunch."
"What do you mean by that?" Is it not obvious that I'm trying to get inside you? That sucks.
"Like, is this like a 'hey, I think you're cool, we should be friends?' Or like, I mean-" You stutter over your words. Jesus, you need to stop being so delicious. I think you're trying to calculate if I'm into you. Or if I'm into guys even? You don't want to assume, do you. You're just a gentle soul, I'm starting to realize.
"I'm thinking this is something akin to date, if you're thinking it is." I say, leaning my elbow on the table and stripping my straw of the paper and slamming it into my Coke.
I smell you again. More sweat. You feel like you're at a disadvantage since you know I know you're gay. You have no idea who or what I fuck, do you? You're in the dark. I like that.
"O-oh." That's all? Disappointing. Confusing. A bit offended. You're attracted. Say you are.
"Did it not seem obvious?"
"To be real, you are really hard to read." You say quietly. I can tell you're watching the soda make its way around my Adam's apple. Dirty. What are you thinking about?
"Hard to read? I've never gotten that before." Sorry for lying.
"Really? I mean-" You're choosing your words carefully. "I've never seen you with anyone, like...on a date or romantically or whatever, and I have never seen you look at me ever, so I think I just-"
You suddenly have gotten really worked up. You keep adjusting the position of your sweatshirt sleeves on your arms. You seem hot.
"I'm interested in you romantically." I pause for a minute, taking a sip of my drink. "Sexually, if that clears it up for you."
"It does, yeah." You say quickly, looking down and adjusting your sleeves one more time.
"Though, you've never really cleared it up for me. That doesn't seem fair." I say casually, stirring my soda with my straw now. "Unless that's just part of your strategy to lead me on."
"I wouldn't lead you on." You jump a little and nearly shout that. I'm sorry I offended you. You seem like you've been waiting for this chance for a while. I wonder how you see me. Am I a bad boy type to you?
The music in the diner shifted, the song becoming more reflective of our sexual energy. I'm hungry for you, and you're practically pulling your shirt collar out and exposing your neck. 'Bite me, daddy.'
I would if I could reach you.
"I-" You catch your breath. "I am."
"You're what?" You have to be braver than that.
"Interested." You look away, discreetly looking to see if anyone else is watching. Listening to your little expensive mouth tell me you're dying to touch me. "In you...sexually."
"Boo." I say, sitting back with my drink and propping my feet up on the bench next to you. You feel like your space has been invaded. God, you're easy to read. It's funny we're so opposite in that way. "Not romantically?"
Your brow furrows.
"You know, I could take care of you." I take another sip. "Romantically. Sexually. Financially. Whatever you need." I can practically hear your heart beating across the table. You're exciting me more than my already pent up dick can handle. "Only if you're interested romantically, anyway. I'm not some kind of pleasure machine."
"Okay." You've almost forgotten that you're worried about people hearing. You're looking straight at me. Sexy. "Romantically, too. Yeah."
"Good."