“One day you really will have to come to South Carolina and let me return this favor.”
This is not the easy, unemotional banter I was hoping for. Instead, this makes for the second time he’s mentioned me coming to his home, suggesting an extension of our Christmas fling.
Does he mean it or is it just something he says in the moment? Do I even want to go see this rural utopia he goes on about?
“I don’t think I’d do well there.” I joke off the suggestion, at least sure I don’t want to have a deeper conversation about an actual future. “I mean, what would happen if I ran out of coconut water?”
“You could order some off Amazon.”
“But could I get next-day shipping?”
“Patience is a virtue. You’ll get it eventually. Or you can plan ahead.”
“What happens if I get a craving to eat falafel at midnight? Can I get it?”
“Most doctors don’t recommend eating that late, so you should drink some water, maybe some of that coconut variety if you’d like, until the feeling passes and you go to sleep. Or we can fry anything you want and you can eat that.”
“What if I want to have cell reception?”
The ensuing silence means I might be winning this.
“Doctors also say we should disconnect more and enjoy the world around us. And there is good Wi-Fi in the house. So, you can be as connected as you want...close to the house.”
The words are right, but his tone lacks any real conviction. I sense victory is almost in my grasp.
“If you can say a lack of cell service is good like you believe it, then you win this entire argument and I say the country is better right now.”
Beau looks physically pained and gives up quickly. “There are other benefits that make up for that lack.”
“Nothingcan make up for that.”
“I should concede that one. Just the one point,” Beau says quietly.
And he can admit when he’s wrong? He really is a nice guy.
Since he’s being so obliging, I don’t rub it in. But he can see my smile, so he sends me a mini glare. We both soon forget the debate, enjoying the food placed in front of us. After the meal, we walk out of the restaurant, and I inch closer to Beau. Because I can’t not be close to him.
“Do you want me to take you back to your place?” he asks.
“Yes, please.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “And then you can stay too, if you want.” And we’re not turning on the TV this time.
“I’d like that.” Beau nods once at me.
“Cool.”
Beau orders the car after I give him my address without fighting. After what is probably a very reasonable (but simultaneously what feels like an epoch) amount of time later, the car gets here, and I practically throw myself into the back of the vehicle.
Beau, as impatient as I am, puts one arm around me and with the other he entwines our fingers together to rest on my thigh. I like knowing he wants to touch me as much as I want to touch and be touched by him.
We make it to my building without tearing each other’s clothes off in the back seat of a stranger’s car. For which Beau better get five stars on his damn app. It was hard missing a night after the best sex of my life and knowing that the opportunities are limited in the first place.
The elevator doors open into my condo and I head straight to my stairs. Beau falls behind me, slowing down near the kitchen.
“Do you want a snack...something to drink?” Beau asks.
I march back to where he is. “Maybe later.” I grab his hand and tug him along after me. He’s smarter than your average bear, so he follows behind without complaint.
I don’t want to give us a chance to fall asleep in a food/alcohol/TV coma.
