“Do you want to hold him?”
For a few seconds, panic gripped me. “I appreciate it, but I’ve never held a baby before in my life. I don’t want to, like, break him or anything.”
She laughed. “You’re hardly going to break him. He’s a lot more durable than what you might think.”
“I’ll take the little dude,” Preston volunteered. He held out his arms, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Vivian handed him her son.
“Don’t worry,” he said, holding the baby like an expert. “I have two sisters and a brother. All of them younger than me. I know the baby drill.”
“So you do.” Vivian was messing with her shirt, and I realized with dawning horror what she was about to do. My suspicion was confirmed when she announced, “He’s probably hungry. I’m going to feed him before we head home.”
I jumped to my feet. “Okay, then. Should we . . .” I glanced around. “Do you want us to leave? Or find you someplace, ah, private?”
“Nah, this is fine. Don’t worry.” She pulled some kind of cover deal over her head. It was like a barbershop cape, shielding her front. She took the baby back from Preston and settled him beneath the cover. “Now, do you have any questions about the column?”
“Yes.” Of course, I did. I still wasn’t sure what I was getting into with this. “What if I don’t find anything exciting to write about? What if people don’t care about two guys and their dating adventures?”
“Listen, Harry,” Vivian began. “I didn’t mean to force you into anything. It was just an idea. If this isn’t what you want to write about, then it’s totally fine. It was only an idea.”
“I understand that, and I appreciate it,” I assured her. “I do. It’s just… what if I’m not good enough? What if your readers don’t care about two everyday guys and the women who they’re dating? What if my columns are boring, and your readers leave by the droves? And what if I just suck?”
“He’s got a point,” Sophia interjected from her place behind the counter. “I mean, who knows if he can even get enough dates to give him material? And is his writing good enough?”
“It is,” Vivian replied with complete assurance. “I worked with Harry before, and I know he’s got the stuff. I know that he could totally rock this. And I’m sure that my readers would love to read whatever he writes about.” She tilted her head. “But as I said, it’s up to you. What do you say?”
I felt three pairs of eyes on me, waiting for my decision. The thing was, I really didn’t have any choice. It wasn’t like the world was knocking down my door to offer me writing gigs. If I didn’t take up Vivian on her offer, I’d probably be working at Alister’s for the rest of my natural life.
“Okay,” I heard myself saying. “I’ll do it. I’ll write about the cuffing season.”
Vivian beamed at me. “Excellent,” she said. “I’ll set it all up and get you the details as soon as possible.” She reached beneath her cape thing and produced the baby, flipping him around. He seemed to be asleep, but she moved him to her shoulder and begin whacking his back a little harder than I thought was probably necessary. Still, I was hardly an expert on these things. I assumed she knew what she was doing.
Preston hitched his chair closer to mine. “My boy, this is going to be epic,” he said. “You and I…we’re gonna find our yees, and not only that, you’re going to become a famous writer, and I’m going to be the guy who helped to get you there.”
I smiled weakly. “That sounds like a plan,” I said. I just hoped that it wasn’t a plan I was going to end up regretting.
2
Welcome to The Cuffing Season. First of all, big thanks to my friend Vivian for trusting me with this space over the next months. She either really believes in me or she’s really desperate, and I’m going to hope it’s the former and not the latter.
My name is Harry Davis. I live in central Florida, and I graduated from college with a degree in English this past May. With that kind of degree, you can guess what kind of job I was able to get.
Yeah, I work in retail. I’m a manager at a store you’ve probably visited at least once or twice. We’re in most of the malls in America, and if you wear jeans or T-shirts, I’ll bet at least some of our merchandise is in your closet.
When I’m not working, I’m either climbing at our local rock-climbing gym or hanging out with my best friends at Espresso Wishes, our favorite coffee shop.
Let me introduce those friends, as you’ll see them mentioned here often. One is my buddy, Preston. We met in high school when we were partnered on an assignment in English class. The other is Sophia, who Preston and I met in college. All three of us like to drink coffee and climb, though Sophia is the one who works at Espresso Wishes, and Preston is the one who is the most serious about rock climbing.
I guess that makes me the one who chronicles our journey.
We work in jobs we see as temporary, because we have bigger dreams. Sophia is a photographer with crazy talent. For now, she does freelance gigs on her time off, like weddings, big parties, family photoshoots, and even school pictures. She’s the only one of us who has her own place, since her mom and dad moved to Colorado last year. Preston and I still live with our parents, which, as you might imagine, comes with its own set of challenges.
Preston is the oldest of four kids, and his degree is in physical education. He’s been climbing longer than any of us, and he has the skills to go all the way in this sport. I know he’s going to make it.
Most importantly for the purposes of this column, all three of us are single. Oh, we’ve dated over the years, but nothing has been serious, and nothing has stuck.
But this year is going to change all of that. This year, Preston and I are seriously pursuing True Love, and we’re determined to find it before the holidays descend upon us. We’re taking full advantage of The Cuffing Season.
Sophia would like it known that she is not part of The Cuffing Season challenge. Mostly, her job is to roll her eyes whenever Preston and I talk about yees.
