Served Hot

by Albert, Annabeth

  When I arrived for the Sunday shift, I was grateful to find the crowd was lighter and more hungover, which meant fewer fancy drinks and a lot more Americanos and triple shots. Lounging against the table with the blenders, I was about to let one of the younger baristas take the next customer when I caught sight of a familiar dark head.

  The hair on the back of my neck perked up. David’s appearance was far more energizing than the iced soy latte with two extra shots I’d been sipping. “I’ve got this one,” I murmured to the blue-haired barista.

  “Whatever,” she muttered with a classic teenage eye roll.

  I sidled up to the counter. “Didn’t expect to see you here. What can I do you for?” Even though I’d already established that flirty didn’t work with David, I went for it anyway. After all, he was here, right?

  He studied the limited menu, scratching his smooth chin. He had the sort of complexion that could easily go scruffy, but even casual he still exuded a nerdy-prep look. His green polo shirt and khaki pants with a canvas belt and loafers made me think of fancy boat parties. And of things people could get up to on boats. But then, something about his too-serious eyes had always made me think of sex.

  “Vanilla latte. Iced. Another hot one today.” He made a vague gesture at the sunny skies.

  “Gotta love June in Portland. I want to bottle up the sun and save it for January.”

  “June makes monsoon season totally worth it.” He drummed his fingers against the metal shelf of the order window.

  The weather. We were back to talking about the freaking weather. I wanted to let out a full-on diva scream.

  I hadn’t missed Brian in ages, but I did right then. He’d always had a way of moving things along to their natural conclusion—us included. And of course his bossy self would have taken issue with my too-spiky hair and too-flashy glasses and shy smile. Brian never would have let me be the one to move first. Be bold, I lectured myself. Clearly David’s not going to be.

  “So. You enjoying the festival? See any interesting booths?”

  “Not sure.” He colored an adorable shade of pink. “Just got here. Came for a coffee mainly.”

  I couldn’t help it. I beamed. Did he come for me? My heart leapt a little, even though it shouldn’t.

  “This your first Pride?”

  “That obvious?” He did that nervous cough of his again.

  “Just a little.” I tried to keep my voice light, even as my smile tightened up. A tourist. I should have figured. After Brian, I didn’t have much interest in closeted guys or being someone’s science experiment, even someone as endearingly bumbling as David.

  The barista working the machine slid me David’s drink and I gingerly handed it over.

  “Thanks. Guess I should . . . look around a bit. I’ve still got some work to catch up on later.” After he paid, he lingered at the window, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something else.

  Hope, stupid and unwarranted, reared its head again, taking over my better sense.

  “Wait. Want me to show you around? I can take my break.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s no problem. Be fun.” Please don’t make me play some sort of offer-and-refuse game.

  “Really? Um. Okay. That would be . . . nice.”

  Thank the flying spaghetti monster. The distant beat of the music stage thrummed through me, muscles twitching with nervous energy. I hadn’t taken many breaks, so when I asked to be cut loose for a while Chris waved me off without looking up. I exited the trailer through the rear door. An awning had been erected to cover the trailer’s extra supplies and I tossed my apron next to a big carton of cups.

  Running a quick hand through my hair, I made my way to the front of the trailer, where David had taken a seat at a folding picnic table.

  “Hey.” Hell. I didn’t have a clue what to say.

  David blinked a few times, like he’d stared too long into the still-new June sun. His gaze held a whole lot of scrutiny and nowhere near as much heat as I’d wished.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” A faint flush crept up his neck. “Just realized I’ve never seen you without your apron on.”

  “Guess not.” I resisted the urge to preen. Since it was Pride, I’d worn my tight red KEEP CALM T-shirt and wriggled my ass into my tiniest black jeans. My boots had thick lug soles but, even so, when David stood he had a good two inches on me. He wasn’t crazy tall, which was good because I didn’t like being with dudes who made me feel like a midget. David’s wide shoulders and sturdy, capable build made him seem substantial without teetering into overpoweringly ripped.

  “So . . .” He fiddled with his straw, and I half-expected him to bolt any second.

  “What would you like to see first?” I gestured at the booths surrounding us. I needed this conversation to move out of awkward land and walking around could only help.

  “I have no idea really. I’m not picky.”

  “Easy to please, huh?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I guess.” His cheeks went ruddy and he looked away. Hell. I had no idea what to make of that blush. For the millionth time I wished I were better at interacting instead of merely observing.

  “How about the music stage?” I wasn’t much in the mood for visiting the same vendors I saw each year. There were only so many T-shirts one could own after all. If I hadn’t been working for Chris, I would have spent most of the day watching the bands.

  “Sure.” He followed me as we headed toward the main stage, winding our way through the crowds and tents. After we made our way out of the rows of tents, we had an impressive view of the waterfront and the bridge. While we walked, I kept glancing over to see what David was thinking about the rainbow explosion.

  Exuberant is the best word for Portland Pride. It’s not the spectacle of San Francisco or the statement of New York and Boston. Hamburg’s Pride had been my first, almost a decade ago. I’d snuck away from the German base where my dad had been stationed to attend the parade. I hadn’t been out to my parents yet, and I barely knew enough German to get around public transit and buy food. It didn’t matter—merely being around so many out, happy people had given me a rush I’d felt for weeks afterward.

  Ever since, I’d made a point of attending Pride regardless of where I lived. Portland was my favorite because of how laid-back yet unabashedly happy everyone was. It was a little like a giant family reunion, only with a lot more color, and everyone liked each other or at least pretended to for the weekend.

  Even as I told myself not to care, I found myself watching what made David’s eyes go wide, like a quartet of drag queens who towered over both of us and a woman holding a poodle dressed in a rainbow tutu. Skin—half-naked people like the guy on a unicycle with a seat shaped like a dick wearing nothing but a G-string—earned a double take from David, as did couples draped over each other.

  Guess I was watching for more clues about who David was. Freed from the counter between us, he felt more . . . real.

  “So how is it that this is your first Pride?” I asked. It was a clear fishing expedition, but I needed to know more about the status of his closet door.

  “Up until two years ago I lived in Idaho—and Small Basin isn’t exactly a hotbed of Pride activities.” His half grin didn’t provide nearly enough answers to the questions that abruptly formed on my tongue.

  “You move here for your job?” What I wanted to ask was whether he’d moved here to be out. But I kept dancing around the things I really wanted to know.

  “Something like that.” Damn cryptic man, making things twenty times harder. I couldn’t ask and he couldn’t tell. My inner Navy brat gave a snicker.

  David and I stood at the edge of the crowd; some people sat in folding chairs, others on blankets, and plenty of people stood too. The areas closer to the stage were tightly packed. Back where we stood it wasn’t as crazy crowded and we could still hear each other speak.

  “How about you? You a Portland native?�
� David’s desire to move the conversation away from himself was almost palpable, his eyes going more eager and his lips turning upward.

  “Nah. I’m from everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?” Ordinarily when people ask me if I’m from here they pause expectantly, their tone not unlike when they compliment me on how good my English is. But David’s tone held nothing but genuine interest, and that made me more talkative than usual.

  “Military brat. Born in South Korea, then we hit Maine, Florida, Japan, and Germany before my dad got his twenty years.”

  “What was his job?” David moved closer to me as the music swelled, giving me an almost light-headed sensation.

  “He worked as a Naval medic, but he’s a nurse now. Met my mom in Korea, but they live in Virginia currently. She owns a clothing store and . . .” I was rambling, but being around him was a strange mixture of giddiness at his nearness and nervousness that I would screw things up. The dueling emotions were par for the course for me, but I still had to take a deep breath. Not that it helped, because I could smell David—faint ocean-scented soap, a little sweat, and something unique to him that made my blood hum like a MAX train.

  “What are you doing in the Northwest?”

  I was tempted to give as cryptic an answer as he had, but the warmth in my chest made my tongue loose.

  “Came for college at Reed. Stayed for an evil ex-boyfriend. Decided PhD track in linguistics wasn’t for me. Lucked out on landing the coffee business.”

  “Evil ex, huh?” His lips twitched. Oh, man. I loved that he’d latched on to the ex bit almost as much as I loved the way his lips moved. Warmth spread from my chest farther south.

  “Yeah. Very evil and very ex. And he’s probably wandering around here somewhere.” I sighed, having long resigned myself to the relative smallness of the Portland gay scene and Brian’s ability to turn up where I least wanted him.

  “Really?” David craned his neck as if Brian might pop up at any moment. It was a ridiculously cute, almost protective gesture. His shoulders seemed wider, his hair more ruffled. Jealous? My insides bubbled up like an Italian soda, all sweetness and giddy anticipation.

  “Who knows?” I shrugged. “Probably somewhere avoiding people with cameras. He’s out in Portland, but not Provo.” That part of Brian I hadn’t made peace with, not during our four years together and not after. It was especially hard because after we broke up I’d watched him cannonball into the bar scene, making a desperate splash by sleeping with anyone and everyone, all the while drowning in dishonesty, undoubtedly hurting himself and a lot of other people.

  And here I was standing with a guy who was quite possibly more closeted than Brian. David’s nervous glances said the entire scene was new to him. Of course the Portland scene was usually a bit more subdued, but Pride was special, bringing out skin and body paint and screaming-loud outfits. A guy in front of us was wearing pink briefs and rainbow knee-highs and nothing else. To our left, the Portland Leather Men were all decked out, complete with chaps and studded harnesses.

  I adored this sort of people watching, but I could tell it unsettled David. He kept shuffling his feet, his face alternating between horrified and fascinated.

  “Want to walk a bit more?”

  “Sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets as he walked next to me.

  Well all righty, then. Not that I’d been planning on holding his hand or anything, but his very clear keep-your-distance signal deflated whatever stupid hope had been brewing in my brain. My skin felt chilled, despite the unseasonably balmy breeze.

  We walked the perimeter of the concert, still able to hear the music as we traveled the park’s sidewalks. I asked him about his job and some of my tension eased when I saw a little smile tug at his lips.

  “I love what we do at the Library Trust,” he said. “I’ve loved libraries ever since I was a kid. It was my favorite building in town. One of the only brick buildings and one of the few air-conditioned public spaces.”

  “Me too. Always loved when we lived places with a good library.”

  “Can’t imagine moving as often as you.”

  “Eh. It wasn’t terrible.”

  “I lived my whole life in Small Basin, except for two years of graduate school in Spokane. And then I moved here.” His eyes darted away from mine, but not before I saw a flash of pain. It made me want to hug him, but his hands were still jammed into his pockets, his shoulders stiffer than a new recruit’s. No hugging happening here.

  I plopped down on a nearby bench. From here we could see the river as well as the sea of festival tents. I needed to be getting back to the coffee trailer, but I was reluctant to walk away from David.

  Even as frustrated as my libido was, the rest of me really liked hanging around David. I felt calm, my usual frantic mental life slowed to his meandering pace. I was nervous, sure, but I was always nervous. With David, I wanted to work past the nerves and frustration over how hard he was to read because of the undercurrent of rightness—like we’d sat like this a hundred times. He was a fabulous listener, and gradually my nervous rambling slowed to a leisurely talk about our jobs. Budget cuts across the country were affecting both of us, although inadequate funding for summer reading programs felt a bit more urgent than my inability to shake free of my roommates. We were both dependent on how much spending cash people had.

  I thought again about his bagged lunch and the contrast of his coffee habit. He loved his job—that much was clear even if nothing much else about him was. Could it possibly be that he’d been coming for me and was just shy? Or was I merely a convenient gateway to a community he had a passing interest in? Or maybe he was lonely and open-minded and not in the least bit gay? I hated the chaos in my brain. I had studied words for years, and yet I still couldn’t find the ones I needed to ask what I really wanted to know.

  “I should be getting back.” My words hung heavy with regret, giving him ample opportunity to—

  “Me too.”

  Hell. I couldn’t flirt and he couldn’t pick up signals. Quite the pair.

  As if our bodies were determined to prove how mismatched we were, David stretched his arms over his head at the same moment I stood to leave and inadvertently whacked me in the head. I stumbled backward, forehead smarting, as he jumped to his feet.

  Bonk. Our heads collided. I started to giggle—because, really, what else was there to do—as we ended up sitting on the bench again wincing and face-to-face. He didn’t move. He didn’t return my semihysterical laughter. Instead, he breathed deeply, like he’d been waiting for a chance to . . .

  What the hell. I closed the last inches between us slowly, willing him not to pull away. I brushed my lips over his in a whisper of a kiss. Compared to the stuff happening around the stage back at the festival, it was laughably tame. But it was also the single most significant moment of my last two months. My nerve endings thrummed with anticipation—a clear, crisp train whistle signaling oncoming change, making every cell in my body sit up and take notice.

  I didn’t have to figure out when to deepen the kiss—he solved that, kissing me back as if I was an offering at Portland’s famed Voodoo Doughnuts and he’d been waiting in line for hours to sample some sugary goodness. His arm came around my shoulder, hauling me closer. Tongue sweeping inside my mouth, he took control.

  The way he kissed was the way he walked and spoke and ate—earnestly, and with a single-minded focus. This was why I was attracted to him—there was a quiet desperation lurking behind his calm façade, a sense that when he did a task, he did it well. Like Ohmyfuckinggawwwwwwwwwwd well. My spine lit up like a pinball game, electricity zooming everywhere and David earning all sorts of bonus points with his strong hand massaging the back of my neck, anchoring me.

  Like I was going anywhere. I grabbed fistfuls of his cotton shirt, my fingers on a mission to get our bodies closer—

  A wolf whistle cut through the haze of sensation. David jerked away from me. He slid to the opposite end of the bench so fast his kha
kis likely left scorch marks.

  “I’m sorry.” Resting his head on his hands, his breath came in ragged gulps. He looked as shaken as I felt, but those were not the words I wanted to hear from him.

  “No one cared. It’s Pride, after all.” I forced myself to laugh.

  “I meant that shouldn’t have happened.” He still wasn’t looking at me. He hissed air between his teeth, a sad, low sound that hit me right in the sternum. “Shouldn’t have gotten that carried away . . . I better head back.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm as he stood. I didn’t want things to end like this.

  “Yeah?” He looked down at me, his expression wary and guarded.

  Logic said to let him walk away. But my hand held tight. While I hadn’t done nearly as much kissing as most of my friends, I’d kissed enough to know lug-sole bending, willpower-unraveling kisses didn’t come along very often. Especially not with a guy as intriguing and confounding as David. I felt like my body had been drugged—brain fogged over, feet and hands all clammy, muscles aching.

  I forced myself to say what I’d wanted to say for the last hour. “Come over to my place tonight. No audience . . .” I gestured at the park while giving him my most friendly look—the one that usually earned me bigger tips or a dance partner at the clubs. I couldn’t pull off seductive, but I could do a very good I’m-fun-and-nonthreatening face.

  He didn’t say anything. He was looking over my head at the skyline behind me. He sucked in a huge lungful of air and held it. And held it.

  “I live close to the Lloyd Center MAX stop. Easy.” I remembered his relief at getting back his TriMet pass.

  Chewing on his lip, he looked . . . wistful. Conflicted maybe. But not disinterested.

  “Or dinner? Something casual?” The air felt charged, like he was this close to saying yes.

  “I can’t,” he said finally.

  My breath escaped in a loud hiss. I felt my muscles deflate, my shoulders slump, my head come down. I knew I looked like a kicked puppy, but when I tried to smile I failed miserably. “It’s okay.”