Between Enzo and the Universe

by Chase Connor

“Remember when I told you about the donuts at the shop where I’m from?” He asked in what was nearly a whisper. “The ones covered in powdered sugar and full of jam?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to see if the ones they make here are better.” He said. “We might have to eat quite a few just to be sure.”

  There was nothing to do but chuckle at that.

  “I also did something horrible,” Peter said.

  Turning my eyes from the display in the donut shop was difficult, but I managed to do so. Peter saying that he had done something horrible got my attention immediately since I knew in my heart that the handsome American next to me had never done anything horrible in his life. Maybe a little bad, but never horrible.

  “What did you do?” I asked, concern surely etched across my face.

  “When you were praying earlier, uh, at the chapel?” He began.

  “Yes?”

  “I stepped outside, not just to smoke a cigarette, though that was part of it, but because I called a friend of mine here in Montreal.”

  “Oh?” I shrugged. “That is not horrible.”

  “I asked him if there were any jobs available at his office because I knew someone who needed one, and—”

  “Peter.”

  “I know, I know.” He grimaced. “I should have asked you first, Enzo. But he said he is looking for some office assistants, and, well, he said since I’m recommending you that if you want one of the positions, it’s yours.”

  “Is this serious?”

  “Again, I’m sorry, Enzo.” Peter held his hands up defensively as I turned my body to look at him. “I should have asked, but watching you kneel there and pray, and knowing what little I knew about you already, I had to help if I could. Like…real help. Not just dinner and an ear.”

  “Well, yes, you should have asked.” I couldn’t make my eyes move to Peter’s face.

  It wasn’t that I was upset that he had done such a thing without asking, or that he had done something that might have equated to pity. It was that I didn’t know what to say to such a thoughtful gesture. The fact that I was suddenly faced with a solution to my biggest problem made it difficult to sort my thoughts as well.

  “I hope you’re not upset with me.”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t mean to if I did.”

  “I’m not upset.” I had to force myself to look up and meet his eyes.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I…I really need a job. Thank you.”

  Peter smiled at me suddenly, the worry that had darkened his face chased away by the brilliant flashing of teeth and crinkling at the edges of his eyes.

  “So, I did a good thing?”

  “Yes. You did a good thing.” I reached out and nudged his shoulder with a smile. “It was very nice of you. I just…I don’t know what to say. I am overwhelmed.”

  “You don’t need to say anything.” Peter shook his head furiously. “I don’t need thanks or anything. I just want you to say that if I give you his number, you will call him tomorrow. He’ll be waiting for your call if you do.”

  “Of course, I will call him.” I agreed.

  “Good.” Peter’s smile stretched further. “I’ll give you his number. He said you could start immediately.”

  I felt my eyes threaten to tear up again, but I blinked a few times, refusing to cry over something so wonderful. Too many tears had been shed for far too long. For once, I wanted to just smile. So, I did.

  “Okay.”

  Peter waved his hands erratically. “But, let’s focus on donuts now. I just needed to tell you about that so it wasn’t the last thing that I said to you after a wonderful night together. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I nodded, trying to push the thought of my financial problem being solved so easily out of my head.

  “So,” Peter turned back to the window, and I followed his lead. “Which donut are you going to try first?”

  “Chocolate,” I said. “Anything with chocolate.”

  Peter moaned with pleasure. “With crème filling, please.”

  “Yes.” I moaned along.

  We both laughed at the perverse sounds coming from our throats as one of the shop employees came to the front door, saw us, smiled brightly, and flipped the sign so that it read “OPEN.” Peter gave me a nudge and a wink, and together, we strolled to the front door. The interior of the shop was warm and smelled of sugar, heavenly combinations. At the counter, Peter ordered six different types of donuts, and I followed his lead, asking for a duplicate order. Peter insisted on paying, and the cheerful shop employee accepted his payment while another employee filled a box with the donuts we had requested.

  Instead of leaving the shop and finding another park in which to eat our treats, Peter led us to one of the small tables in the corner of the empty shop. Luckily, the tables were far enough away from the counter and the workers who were still busily making donuts, for us to have a conversation without fear of being overheard. Unbuttoning my coat, since the shop was sufficiently heated, I draped it carefully over the back of my chair and sat down. Peter slid into his seat across from me, placing the box full of donuts between us on the table. Peter mimicked my actions, though he had waited until he was seated to remove his gorgeous new coat. Finally, with both of our sleeves rolled up and our coats safe from powdered sugar, Peter flipped back the top of the box.

  “Which one first?” He asked, peering into the box mischievously.

  I shrugged. “The powdered sugar? It is the one you said you wanted to test the most.”

  “Powdered sugar it is.” He winked at me from across the table.

  In unison, we reached into the box, our fingers touching briefly before they found purchase around the sugary confection. Both of us gave satisfied moans—though much more quietly than we had outside—as we bit into the light, sugar-covered dough. Peter pulled the donut away from his mouth, his lips covered in powdered sugar, which made me laugh.

  “What?”

  I chewed my bite and swallowed quickly so I could answer.

  “You have sugar all over your lips.”

  He leaned in. “Did you want to lick it off, or…”

  Blushing, I looked away.

  “Stop it.”

  “Do you really want me to stop?”

  “Well, no.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He chuckled warmly and took another bite of his donut. “Is there anything better than warm, fresh donuts, Enzo? I mean, honestly? Other than obvious things like money and people, what else is this amazing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I mean, sex is obviously better.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Peter wiggled his eyebrows at me as the donut went to his mouth again, which he bit into and chewed before speaking again. “Everyone knows how good sex is, even if they’ve never had it.”

  “What if they don’t like sex?” I countered.

  “Like asexual people?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well, I’m talking about people who don’t have an aversion.”

  “What if they do not have an aversion, but they are having sex with the wrong person?”

  “You are thinking about this way too much.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Peter winked. “At least I got you to admit you think about sex a lot.”

  “I did not!” I laughed, my face heating up.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “You lie.”

  “Do I?” Peter teased as he stuffed the rest of the donut in his mouth. “Or do you not want to admit that you think about sex a lot?”

  “I admitted nothing.” I was still laughing, though mostly from nervousness.

  “But do you?” Peter reached into the box and grabbed another donut. “Think of sex?”

  The chocolate one.

  It looked delicious.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I groaned as
I reached for my chocolate donut.

  Though I never would have admitted it to Peter, I didn’t want him to stop talking to me about sex. I didn’t necessarily want him to become graphic with his talk, but speaking of sex in general terms was very pleasing and arousing. Eating delicious, sugary donuts and having a handsome man to talk about sex with at the same time was definitely not the worst way to spend one’s time. The fact that Peter was so easy to talk to, though I was still embarrassed, made it all better. Peter wouldn’t do anything to shame me or humiliate me, no matter what we talked about. I felt safe discussing anything with him.

  “Because I enjoy talking with you about sex.”

  “Why?”

  “Really?” Peter rolled his eyes. “Have you seen yourself, Enzo? I think anyone would enjoy talking about sex with you.”

  Blushing was all I could do in response, so I shoved nearly half of the chocolate donut in my mouth to try and distract my mind.

  “Do you like talking about sex with me?”

  “This is too much,” I said, my mouth stuffed with dough and chocolate.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. But in a good way.”

  “Good.” Peter grinned happily and took another bite of his donut.

  Swallowing the donut down, I made sure my eyes met Peter’s.

  “Is this how you think you will make me happy?” I asked. “Donuts and talking about sex?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Distracting, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “Sugar and sex can always make people forget their problems, at least for a little bit.”

  “But what happens to your problems once the sugar is gone and the sex is over?”

  “You get more sugar and have more sex.” He winked.

  “Have?” I found the courage to grin back. “I thought this was just talking?”

  Peter held a hand to his chest dramatically.

  “Gosh.” He groaned. “Right in the heart.”

  I laughed.

  “So, do you think about sex a lot?” He reiterated, stuffing the last of his chocolate donut in his mouth.

  “You will not stop until I answer this question, will you?”

  “Probably not,” He said. “I’m very stubborn.”

  “I mean…I don’t think so?” I knew that I may as well answer the question because Peter would not give up. And I wanted to answer him. “Not really, I do not think.”

  “What’s that mean?” Peter was reaching for another donut.

  I loved that he loved to eat, and he was not afraid for me to know it.

  “I think that when I think of sex, it is not really about sex,” I said, reaching for another donut as well. “I have never really met anyone that I thought of…like that…so when I think of sex, it is…”

  “Vague?”

  “Yes.”

  “So,” Peter glanced towards the counter, then leaned in, “what do you think of when you masturbate?”

  “Peter!” I laughed sharply, my face immediately turning hot.

  “What?” Peter grinned. “Everyone does it.”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  “Don’t be shy, Enzo.”

  “I am not shy.”

  “The red on your cheeks says otherwise. And you are far too pale for it to not be noticeable.”

  “What do you think about?” I countered.

  Peter took a bite of his donut, much daintier than with the first two donuts.

  “Usually hot guys that I’ve seen.” He said. “Either in person or like movie stars and stuff. Sometimes I watch porn.”

  “Zut.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Uh…damn.”

  Peter grinned. “Do you watch porn, Enzo?”

  “On what?” I snorted. “The huge television in my living room?”

  Peter laughed nervously.

  “I am just being silly,” I said.

  “Okay. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “You did not offend me,” I said. “But no. I do not watch…porn.”

  I whispered the last word.

  “Then, what do you think about?” He asked before biting into his donut.

  “Peter.”

  “Oh, come on.” He said. “When we have our second date, I will need to know these things.”

  “You think you will need to know about this on our second date?”

  “No.” He smiled. “I just wanted to hear you say there would be a second date.”

  “You are awful.”

  “You love it.”

  I looked down, overcome with bravado by the conversation over a box of delicious, fresh, warm donuts.

  “I love spending time with you,” I said. “Even though you are awful.”

  “I love spending time with you, too,” Peter replied. “Even though you are not awful.”

  “I think about having someone…like you…who makes me feel safe.” I said, looking down. “Who will make me feel comfortable having…sex. When I…do that.”

  When I looked up, Peter was smiling.

  “If that was your attempt at being awful, you failed.” He said. “And I’ve never been so happy to see someone fail.”

  “I am very sad suddenly.”

  “Why?” He frowned.

  “I do not want you to leave.”

  “I don’t want to leave either.”

  In unison, we reached into the box, each of us grabbing our fourth donut. Both of us grabbed a chocolate donut filled with crème, meant to look like an éclair but not quite achieving the goal. It looked delicious either way.

  “Enzo?”

  “Yes?” I bit into the donut.

  It was just as good as an actual éclair, though I would have felt bad for saying so out loud to anyone but Peter.

  “Would you ever come visit me in America?” He asked. “If you were able?”

  “I have never been to America.”

  “That’s not the question.”

  I smiled. “Would you like it if I visited you?”

  “Yes.” He sighed dreamily. “I would love to have you come visit me. I would like for you to come visit as often as you like. You could…”

  “What?” I had learned to not wait with Peter.

  “You could stay as long as you want.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “So, you do not want a second date?” I teased. “You want to be my boyfriend.”

  Peter couldn’t contain his laughter. “That is so juvenile. I love it.”

  “I do not know what else to call it.”

  “Partner.” He said. “Maybe you could be my partner.”

  “And make your house my castle?” I continued the thought. “And we will wake up on Sundays and kiss and have breakfast and…be not so sweet…and walk to the market, then make dinner, and feed scraps to our dog?”

  “And then be not so sweet again before falling asleep in each other’s arms.” He nodded. “Are you happy right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mission accomplished.” He said. “Imagine how happy you would be if you visited me in America.”

  “What would your family think? Your friends?”

  “They know I’m gay.”

  I frowned. “I mean…I am…you are…”

  “I’m old, and you aren’t?” He teased.

  “Well, yes. I suppose?”

  “I don’t know.” He replied. “My last boyfriend was more age-appropriate, I guess. They might be shocked at first, but they would get used to it. Especially after they saw how wonderful you are, anyway.”

  “What if they didn’t like me?”

  “Then they could fuck off.”

  I laughed and stuffed more of the donut into my mouth.

  “Enzo.” Peter sighed and sat back, ignoring his last two donuts. “I know I’m a fool. But I like you. And I don’t want you to think that I am just saying this stuff so I can simply have a fun n
ight. I truly like you. I want to be able to like you for many more nights after tonight.”

  “I truly like you, too, Peter.”

  “So…will you promise me something?”

  “I will try.”

  “If the time comes that you are able to come to America to visit, you will do it, right? I can send you a plane ticket, or—"

  “I will come to America to visit.” I nodded, cutting him off. “But only if I can buy my own plane ticket. You have been kind tonight. And I have allowed it. But if we are to be partners, I do not want you to be…I do not want to be taken care of by anyone.”

  “You want to want to be there. You don’t want to need me.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Deal.” He smiled. “Then I will give you my friend’s phone number. Take the job. Work. Get your life in order. And as soon as you have the money, you have to come see me.”

  “Will you expect me to have sex with you?”

  Peter coughed, nearly choking on his donut.

  “Why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes wide. “I wouldn’t expect you to do anything you didn’t want to do, Enzo.”

  “Oh?” I grinned. “I would expect it of you.”

  Peter’s horrified expression slowly turned into a wicked grin.

  “Ah.” He said. “You were asking if this will be romantic in nature and if it might lead to sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Absolutely.” Peter reached over and thumped me on the end of my nose. “I am not asking you to come to America just to be friends. Though your friendship is important, too.”

  “May I ask you one last favor, Peter?”

  “Anything.”

  “When it is time for you to leave today, do not look back.” I sighed. “I do not want to see your eyes as you are walking away.”

  “What if I want to see yours one last time?”

  “That would mean you expect to never see them again.”

  Peter stared at me for the longest of moments.

  “Okay,” Peter said. “I won’t look back. As long as you promise I will see your eyes again.”

  “I promise.”

  Peter sat back in his chair, and I sat back in mine, our eyes locked. We each had two donuts left. Slowly, Peter started to put his coat back on, slipping his arms inside of it as I mimicked his actions. We were both fools. Two strangers who met by chance and struck up a romance in less time than some people sleep in a night. But in my heart of hearts, as we put on our coats across the table from each other, I knew that I would go see Peter in America one day. What happened after that, I wasn’t sure, but I would never be truly happy again unless I found out.