I tip my head over to my car which is parked a few spots away. “So I guess I’ll meet you there.” Conner chuckles as he steps around the bike. He unstraps an extra helmet from the back of the seat.
“Nope, you’re riding with me.” He holds the helmet, waiting for me to take it. “Unless of course, you don’t want to.” His eyebrow arches suggestively as he waits for me to take it from him, which I do, of course. “I thought this might be fun,” he says by way of explanation, tossing his leg easily over the seat. I stand there, amazed with the ease of his movements, the smoothness of his attitude and the carefree tone of his words. He pats the seat behind him. “Come on, Dylan. I won’t bite.” He winks before adding, “Unless you want me to, but that’s more of a third date revelation.”
I laugh and shake my head before pulling my keys out of my pocket. After dropping my briefcase off in my car, I slide the helmet into place and join Conner on the bike. His voice echoes in the helmet. “You ready?”
I nod, non-verbally answering him. I hear his laughter in my helmet again and that’s when I piece it together that there are microphones and speakers in the helmets so we can communicate. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I answer, finally.
He laughs again, shaking his head. “Okay, but you might want to hold on.”
“As long as you don’t drive like you did the other night, I should be just fine back here,” I joke, but to be honest, I’m not sure if I can handle being pressed up against his back, being wrapped around his body.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters, though I can barely hear him over the loud roar of the engine revving. Smoothly, he pulls to the end of the lot. When the road is clear, he pulls out into traffic so quickly that I have no choice but to hold on. That was probably his plan, after all.
“See? I told you.” His deep voice fills my helmet once more as my arms tighten around him. “Just lean when I lean and hold on.”
Giving into his commands, and my own desires, I slide forward on the seat, nestling my legs up against his. I move my hands so they’re just resting on my legs, figuring I can just hold on to him on a sharp turn if I need to. Conner, however, has other plans. While he steers with one hand, he uses his other to guide my arm around his waist.
I don’t move it for the rest of the ride. It’s not entirely because I don’t want to piss him off, either.
We pull up outside of a small, casual steak house. He secures the helmets and we walk in. The hostess, a young, attractive woman with long brown hair and chocolate eyes greets us with a wide smile. “Good evening, gentlemen.” She openly peruses us, her eyes wide as they scan over Conner’s broad shoulders. “Would you like a seat at the bar while you wait on your dates?”
Her assumption forces an odd chuckle from my mouth. Conner speaks for us. “A table, please. By the bar is fine. For just the two of us.” After reading her name badge, he looks her straight in the eyes. “Thank you very much, Lydia.”
Lydia’s face blushes a furious shade of red. “Oh, okay. Sure.” She stumbles over her words as she gathers a few menus. “Right this way.”
Conner glances over to me, a sly smile playing across his face. “It’s always fun to do that,” he says when we’re seated.
“What’s that? Confuse women who were eye-fucking you? Is that a favorite pastime of yours or something?”
“I have a lot of hobbies, but none of them involve playing with people’s emotions.” He takes a sip of his water. “It’s just not the first time I’ve shown up somewhere on a date only to have someone misread the situation, thinking that our girlfriends are running late.”
“They’re probably just mad that you’re not here with them,” I mumble around the lip of my glass.
“Maybe,” he admits oh-so-humbly. “I think it’s more that when people see two gay men out on a date, they expect one of them to be wearing glitter-covered rainbow pants or something like that. Some people can’t wrap their heads around the idea that being gay does not always mean being flamboyant. Besides,” he leans forward, pitching his voice lower, “maybe she was upset that she wasn’t here withyou.”
Thankfully, the waiter interrupts us and takes our orders. It’s a steak house so there’s not much of a choice to make. Steak and something green with a side of potatoes and we’re both good to go.
“So how was work?” Conner asks.
I shoot him and his small-talk question a suspicious look across the small table. “Okay, nothing out of the ordinary. You?”
“Fine. Got a few new machines in. Things are really starting to pick up.”
The waiter drops off our drinks, and just as Conner is mid-sip, I interject, “What do you want? With me I mean?”
Conner takes a long sip of his iced-tea before answering. “See, this is a date, Dylan. I like you. I think you like me. We eat; get to know each other better and maybe make plans to do it all over again in a few days.”
Rolling my eyes is the only response I can come up with initially. “Thank you very much for that rather concise explanation, Conner.” I shoot him a pointed look and we both laugh.
“That’s better. You’re fun when you laugh.” Conner winks at me, satisfied that the tension is gone. “So, tell me about your family. Reid is your brother?”
“No, I’m an only child, actually. Reid’s my best friend, the only family I have locally, really. My parents just recently moved down to Florida, typical snow birds.”
The waiter interrupts us once more, placing our salads in front of us. Before I take my first bite, I ask, “What about you? Siblings? Parents?”
“Rachel, the receptionist at the gym, is my sister. We moved up here from New Jersey after my parents died.” Conner adds the last part quickly, painfully
“I’m sorry.” Reaching across the table, I lay my hand on top of his. Shocked by my own forwardness, I stare down at our joined hands. Lightly, I trace my thumb over the top of his wrist. Little jolts of electricity fly between us, as if the spots where our skin is touching are actual live wires, sparking wildly. He covers my hand with his, mirroring the same motion of my thumb.
