“Do you want to go first, or should I?”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, unsure of how I want to say what I need to say. I don’t want to make Alex feel uncomfortable. It’s not his fault that his touchy-feely nature and general Alex-ness turns me on so much, but if we’re going to be friends, I really need a little bit of physical distance. Polly slides two oversized mugs filled to the rim with blackcoffee onto the table, and I take a deep inhale, letting the bitter, caffeinated smell give me strength.
“I’ll go first. I love being your friend, Goat. I’ve loved getting to know you over the past few weeks. I don’t want to make things weird, but I’m attracted to you. I’m having a hard time getting my brain and my body on the same page. My brain knows that we’re friends, but when we hug and hold hands and stuff, it's hard for me to keep my attraction pushed down. I’m not blaming you—I know it's not your fault that I’ve got this crush, and I know you’re not intentionally being flirty with me. I just think I need a little bit of physical space so I can get past this attraction, and then I’ll be good. So maybe no long, lingering hugs for a little bit? Just until I can get past this stupid little crush, and then we can go back to being the friends we’ve become.”
Alex bobs his head, contemplating, and I feel like a total asshole. Like I just victim-blamed him for being cute and forcing me to be attracted to him by just existing. My stomach turns, and I take a long sip of the shitty coffee to try to settle myself while I try to think of ways to take back everything I’ve just said and move on like nothing ever happened.
Alex, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, reaches across the table and places a hand on top of mine.
“Elliot, I think we should hook up. Like, soon. Tonight, if you’re up for it.”
He squeezes my hand and I choke on my coffee, coughing and spitting the brown liquid all over the table—and Alex’s face.
12
POLLY AND HER DELICIOUS WAFFLES
Alex
Of all the things to be thinking about this moment, the very first blowjob I ever received as an eighteen-year-old kid in the back of my BMW X5 should be the last thing on my mind. But as I quietly dab the sticky, spit-soaked coffee from my face, I can’t help but think about Ava Lewis, my girlfriend from senior year of high school.
I feel like I should send her an apology bouquet of flowers, because I now realize how off-putting it is to be surprise-splattered in the face with someone else’s juices.
Across from me, Elliot is still coughing and sputtering. I whip my wet hoodie over my head and toss it in the booth next to me before crossing over andsitting next to him. I give him a few hard pats on the back and once I’m sure he’s no longer choking, I start gently stroking his shirt instead. Maybe not the smartest choice, since he was just implying that I’m already a little too handsy with him. But fuck it, I might have just ruined everything with my big mouth anyway.
“You okay there, buddy?”
Elliot wipes his mouth with his sleeve, laughing humorlessly down at the table.
“Fucking perfect, Goat. I just had some sort of crazy hallucination and I’m starting to think that maybe I actually did fall and hit my head on the ice, but yeah. I’m good.”
“You definitely didn’t fall and hit your head. Why do you think you’re hallucinating?”
“Are you kidding me? Did you or did you not just say that you think we should…” he trails off, mouth opening and closing like he can’t even say the words.
“Hook up? Yeah, that was me.”
Elliot’s eyes shoot up, finally looking at me for the first time since I laid my intentions out on the table. It may have only been a few seconds ago, but it feels like a lifetime has passed since then. His forehead is crinkled, his nose scrunched. The dimples on his cheeks are deep from the way he’s pursing his lips. He looks so adorably confused, and it takes all mystrength not to lean in and graze my teeth along his pouty bottom lip.
“I…I have so many questions,” he says, finally.
“Lucky for us, questions and answers are kind of our thing.” I bump my knee against his under the table, our thighs brushing together, and Elliot nearly jumps out of his skin.
“I think you should probably go back to your side of the booth for this conversation.”
Fair. If I sit here any longer with my hands on Elliot’s body, it’s almost a matter of time before I’m tempted to crawl into his lap and taste the peppermint and coffee on his tongue.
Reluctantly, I slide back into my side of the booth. And while our knees still graze under the table, I feel a little more settled and little bit less like I want to jump Elliot’s bones with a bit of distance between us.
“I get what you mean about the touching and hugging being confusing. The second I get my hands on you, my brain goes fuzzy. That physical touch shit is potent,” I say. Polly comes back with our waffles, a dish of butter and a sticky dispenser of syrup. I load my waffle up with both and start to cut it into small pieces, and all the while Elliot just stares at me with his brows furrowed.
“I…Alex…”
“You said you have questions, right? Ask them.I’m an open book, El.” I make a ‘go ahead’ motion with my hand and then stuff a forkful of chocolate-y, maple-y goodness into my mouth. “And start eating, will you? These waffles are orgasmic.”
“I’m so confused,” Elliot says. He makes no moves to cut into his food, so I hold out a bite of my waffle out for him.
“So you’ve said. Eat, El.” I command. He leans in tentatively, wrapping those delicious lips around my fork and moaning when the chocolate hits his tongue.
