Though there were only four or five other people in the coffee shop, I felt eyes on me the entire time. Of course, it seemed I couldn’t even use the restroom in Noah’s apartment without thinking someone was watching me. As I edited, I’d look up and scan the room every few minutes. The more I did, the more convinced that a Hispanic man in the opposite corner really was looking at me. The first couple of times I looked toward him, he glanced away. The fourth or fifth time, he caught my gaze and held it. I was the one who looked away.
There was heat in his eyes. Lust.
A look I knew well.
And a couple of months ago, it was all I would have needed to close up the laptop and take him home.
He was handsome. Early fifties, probably. Salt-and-pepper military cut. Military body. Beautiful dark eyes. Gold skin. A day’s worth of stubble.
Good. That I could handle. The stare of another horny gay man. That was an everyday occurrence. One I’d dealt with for years. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t tempted. At all. As beautiful as he was, he wasn’t Noah.
And if Noah weren’t in the picture, sex would still be the last thing on my mind. Not when I hurt this bad.
Even so that kind of stare was a relief. At least he wasn’t going to ask me if I was Morgan.
If I wasthatMorgan.
Although what if he was one of the men sending propositioning messages? None were threatening, necessarily, but some were for sure on the uncomfortable side of aggressive.
Another glance at the man told me he was still looking. And as I watched, he stood, his chair scooting loudly over the tile.
I returned my attention to the computer, staring holes into the pictures of Noah and me. I shouldn’t have left the apartment. What if he was one of those men? What if he wouldn’t take no for an answer? He was tons bigger than me, not that it mattered. I’d never been in a fight in my entire life. I had no idea how to even throw a punch.
Heat seemed to radiate off him as he approached me, which had to be my imagination. Obviously.
This wasn’t big deal. I was imagining things. He wasn’t going to try to carry me out of the coffee shop. Probably didn’t even know who I was. He was just going to flirt a little. I could handle that. Granted, I didn’t have that much experience turning someone down. There hadn’t been many reasons to say no before. But, whatever. I truly wasn’t tempted at all, and the only thing I’d need to do was point to the pictures of Noah and me. The man would shrug and leave me alone.
To my surprise, the man pulled out a chair, turned it backward, and straddled it. Tilting it on two of its legs, he leaned closer.
I finally looked at him, meeting his gaze, hoping he couldn’t smell my fear. “Hey. Can I help you?”
“Hi.” His confident smile made him even more handsome and put me at ease. “You’re Randall, right?”
It was just about the articles. Of course it was.
No. No, it wasn’t. I was being stupid. Sex was pouring off the man. This had nothing to do with the articles. This was someone I’d hooked up with at some point. Maybe someone I’d messaged on Scruff.
Dear Lord, I was losing my mind. Being stupid and overdramatic.
I attempted a smile. One I hoped was friendly but not encouraging. “Yeah. I’m Randall.”
He leaned closer. “Thought so. No way I’d forget your face. You’re beautiful.”
Despite myself, the compliment was a relief.Beautiful.That was nice.
Better than whore. Or slut.
Or shitty abandoning uncle.
“Thank you.” I motioned toward the screen. “I appreciate that, but I have a—”
“I read about you recently.” He cut me off, not looking at the computer. “You have a massage business.”
Though my body went cold, I felt my cheeks and ears burn. It seemed I wasn’t as dramatic as I wanted to believe.
The man spoke again, not that I found the correct response anyway. “I’m not sure what your schedule is. I have a couple of hours right now if you do.”
Stupidly it took a few too many seconds for that to truly sink in.
