“Thank you for the coffee,” Lawrence said, lifting his cup in the air.
“My pleasure. Even if you aren’t looking for love in the evening, there’s no saying what could happen over coffee.”
Lawrence scrunched up his face in an attempt to hide a smile.
“Too cheesy?”
“Only time will tell,” Lawrence answered with a wink.
“I’ll take that wink as slight encouragement. How do you like living in Chelsea?”
“It’s lovely for the most part. Some of my favorite cafes have been driven out by gentrification over the past years, but I like the art and being close to the water.”
“I’m sure you have exquisite taste.”
Lawrence laughed. “Does my midriff give it away?”
“Yes,” he answered, matter-of-fact. “Are you an artist?”
“Not at all. But I took a lot of art history courses in college. I was a philosophy major, and they’re kind of connected.”
“Questions of the heart?”
“Something like that,” Lawrence replied, waving his hand to dismiss the line of conversation. He didn’t want to bore the man with esoteric questions about power and economics, like he had studied, and anyway, it wasn’t as though he had done anything with his degree. The flirtation was a much more pleasurable conversation, as far as Lawrence was concerned. “And you? What other hobbies do you have, besides distributing cocktails around the Fire Hose?”
“I do technical things with computers for my income. For recreation? Well, you know how this city is. I feel like I’m always getting swept up into something new.”
“Definitely.”
“Sometimes, I wish I had grown up here. All of my family is far away. I feel like people who grew up in New York navigate it much better than us transplants. What about you, dear Lawrence?” he prompted. “You grew up here?”
Lawrence licked his lips. “Born here, but I went away for school.”
“Does your family—”
Lawrence grabbed the man’s hand, then pointed across the street. “Look!” he said, mainly in hopes of changing the conversation. “The cherry blossoms are blooming!”
They both stared at the tree, exploding with white and pink blooms, a sign that spring had fully arrived. Lawrence adjusted his sunglasses, and when they started walking again, he kept his hold on the man’s hand.
“So your family?”
Lawrence sighed. The question popped the magical bubble that he had been floating in. So much for counting on mysterious strangers to distract him from all of his problems. “They’re still here in the city. I see them, but we’re not close.”
“Not close?”
Lawrence shrugged. “Some men are good fathers. Some are just assholes.”
“Sorry to hear you got the second one.”
“Not as sorry as I am. Maybe one day I’ll even stand up to him and do something about it. At least, I like to think that I will, even if I haven’t had the courage yet. But that is hardly the kind of romantic conversation appropriate for a latte and a spring morning stroll through the city.”
“Right, of course. More cherry blossoms, fewer asshole fathers.”
“Now you’re making me swoon again.”
They kept walking, chatting and exchanging flirtatious jokes. But for the last stretch of the walk, the other man seemed distracted. Lawrence tried to think of what he had said that might have turned him off, but he came up short. By the time they returned to Chelsea, the strange distraction seemed to have passed.
“You asked about living in Chelsea,” Lawrence said, toeing his shoe against the pavement and glancing up with his best pout. “Want to see inside my place?”
The man in the suit seemed to hesitate. He bit down on his bottom lip and eyed Lawrence like he had in the club, like Lawrence was some temptation he just couldn’t quite resist. But then he turned away and shook his head. “Maybe next time, sweetheart.”
Lawrence groaned. All the warmth in his chest crashed into disappointment. “I can’t believe you just walked me all the way across town, and now you don’t want sex.”
“Oh Lawrence,” he laughed, then nodded his head back to say goodbye. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
Lawrence’s mouth fell open. Was he losing his charm or something?
Because every time he got close to a hot man lately, it was just to watch him walk away.
