Dreamspinner Press Year Seven Greatest Hits

by K. C. Wells

“Gross! Make it an egg white vegetable omelet or maybe oatmeal and fruit, but never all those bad carbs after a good run! Ugh! My stomach hurts just thinking about it!”

  I gave him my best “you’ve got to be kidding” look.

  “So you’re saying yes to breakfast, but only if it’s oatmeal or egg whites?”

  “Sure! Sounds great! Thanks for asking me, Matty. Now let’s get a move on.”

  I was aware this was the first time he’d called me Matty in a long time and that I really liked it. I was also aware that one of us had just played the other. And while I had no idea who came out the winner for breakfast, I felt like it was me simply because he agreed to spend more time with me. I was looking forward to a veggie omelet suddenly.

  We ran for about an hour with Aaron chatting the entire way. He was easy to talk to. I asked a question about his workweek and got a colorful, in-depth account of the inner workings of his trade. He had funny stories to tell about power-hungry editors, crazy artistic directors, and poor serfs like himself. The curly-haired girl was a friend of his named Dawn. He told me he thought she had a crush on him, although it was obvious to one and all that he was gay. He talked about other friends at the magazine and then talked about his best friend, Jay, and his partner, Peter. He was entertaining and fun, and I couldn’t believe how quickly the hour went by.

  I would guess we did about seven miles, and while I was proud I was able to keep up with him, I sensed we were going at a much slower stride than Aaron usually did on his own. Having Aaron doing most of the talking worked in my favor as well. I would have suggested we keep going, but truthfully my legs were feeling a bit rubbery and he had agreed to breakfast, so I didn’t have to say good-bye right away.

  I directed him toward one of my favorite cafés on M Street and bought us a couple of waters along the way. We sat on a bench outside, drinking greedily while we waited for our table to be called.

  “They do serve oatmeal here, don’t they, Matty?” Aaron teased. He took a long drink from his water bottle, and hell, that was sexy. My mouth was dry and open. I quickly closed it and took a sip before answering.

  “No idea. But I know they have omelets. And bacon, and hash browns, and….”

  “Very funny.”

  “Hey, Matt!” I turned as my name was called to find Jason and Chelsea just exiting the café. I stood up to greet my friends, warning them that I was hot and sweaty and not huggable. Then I turned back to Aaron to introduce him. He quickly stood and shook hands with them.

  “We just finished a grueling run,” I exaggerated to see what Aaron’s response would be.

  “Grueling? Boyfriend, if that is your idea of grueling, you need to get out more often. Build up your stamina, ya know?” He winked at me, and I smiled back at him. It didn’t escape my notice that he called me “boyfriend,” in front of my friends, no less, and I had to wonder what that was about. I was a little slow on the uptake at times, but I was learning that Aaron communicated in a variety of ways. I had a feeling he was testing me somehow.

  “So, you guys waiting for a table or something?” Jason asked. “You know…,” he suddenly said, turning to Aaron, “you look really familiar. Do I know you? How do you guys know each other?”

  “Um, well… we met a few months ago,” I started. I hadn’t really thought about how I would explain Aaron to my other friends. Not that there was anything to explain. Aaron made it clear we were just friends, but the fact was, Aaron wasn’t like any of my other friends. They would be curious.

  Aaron wasn’t going to help me out here. A glance at him told me it was my story to spin however I wanted. Well, alright then.

  “We met at a dance club last year and then I think a bar? But we met up this past week when Aaron was working on a photo shoot for his magazine and—”

  “Cool! What magazine do you work for? Are you a journalist? Gosh, I would love to work at a magazine. Is it like The Devil Wears Prada or is it a political mag?” Chelsea interrupted, looking genuinely interested.

  “Definitely Prada, not politics! Although in this town you can’t really get away from it altogether.”

  I watched as Aaron held Chelsea in thrall with a story about the shoot he was working at the other day. His hands moved expressively as he weaved his tale. Chelsea was laughing out loud, looking thoroughly charmed by my companion. I had to smile. I heard a small cough beside me and turned to see Jason giving me a puzzled look. I shrugged in response. I didn’t know what else to say. Thankfully our table was called. We’d said our good-byes when Chelsea suddenly turned back.

  “Hey, Matt. I forgot. I just ran into Kristin last night. She said to tell you hello. She seems pretty good.”

  “Great. Tell her hi for me when you see her.” I waved a quick good-bye and joined Aaron inside the warm cafe.

  We scored a table situated at the enormous bay window overlooking M Street. Perfect for people watching, though I doubted I would notice anyone other than the guy sitting across from me. He was particular about strange things, I was finding. The hostess had set her hand on the chair furthest from the door and indicated Aaron should sit there, probably since he was the first to the table. He obliged, but then sprang out of his seat almost immediately and asked me to switch seats.

  “Why?” I was puzzled. We were at the window; both seats were good in my opinion.

  “Because I can see the whole café from that seat. You don’t care, do you?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Then switch… please.” He batted his eyelashes at me.

  I didn’t get his logic, but neither was I partial to my view of the café, so I moved for him.

  “Thanks, sweetie!” This time I was rewarded with a blinding smile.

  “You know, calling me ‘sweetie’ and fluttering your eyes at me is considered flirting. I’m not sure that’s fair of you since we’re just here as friends.”

  “Oh, really? Well, I didn’t realize, Mr. Matthew, that you were so in danger of falling under my spell with a simple term of endearment and a facial gesture. I’ll try to control myself.” He did that thing with his eyes again just as the waitress came to take our drink order.

  “So… your friends seem nice.” I just nodded in agreement. “I take it Kristin is your girlfriend?”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I corrected.

  “Right. You mentioned that. When did you break up?”

  “Last month.”

  “Details? Aren’t you going to dish? Friends dish! Monosyllabic answers are no fun. Give me the scoop? Was she clingy? Too fussy? Didn’t put out? Come on… don’t make me guess!”

  I laughed because he looked truly irritated with me, and Kristin was the last thing on my mind. I didn’t want to talk about her, but I humored him.

  “Nothing was wrong with her. It was just me. I wasn’t as invested in the relationship as she was.” I thought adding that I was interested in someone else, him, namely, might put him off, so I left it at that.

  “Cool customer, Matty. I feel for the poor girl.”

  “I’ve heard she’s been seeing someone new. I’m not worried about her. I think she was looking for a husband, honestly, and I am so not ready for that.”

  “Ever?”

  “No. I definitely want to get married and have kids one day, but I have things to do first. I want to finish my degree and establish myself before I settle down. You know?”

  “No. I don’t. I’ve heard that story, but it isn’t mine.”

  “Why not?”

  He gave me a “you are so stupid” look. “Really? Well, number one, I’m gay. Number two, I’m gay and not seeing anyone at the moment. And number three, I’m gay and parenting? No, thanks. I have nephews I get to spoil. That’s all the kid time I need. I get to be the cool uncle and never have to scold them or clean up after them. That works for me.”

  “So, what you’re really saying is that you would reconsider if you met the right guy?”

  Aaron had just taken a sip of the orange juice the waitress had se
t before him, and he barely managed not to spit it out. He did choke a little, though. I loved that I had gotten to him.

  “Very funny. I guess stranger things have happened, and I’m not old. Yet. I may change my mind. Never say never.” His tone was upbeat but he was giving me the evil eye, and it was really adorable.

  “How old are you again?”

  “You are not supposed to ask a girl questions like that!” He scolded in true camp fashion. I caught on that this was an act, so I lifted a brow, encouraging him to answer. “Fine. I’m twenty-eight.”

  The waitress set our omelets in front of us. Aaron stopped her to ask a medley of questions ranging from a request for hot sauce to what color her lip gloss was. She, too, was thoroughly charmed when she left to do his bidding.

  “Why was that so hard? Twenty-eight is young.” I looked into his eyes. “Well, young-ish.”

  “You did not just say that! I am well aware that the big three-oh is looming! No need to add salt to the wound!”

  I laughed out loud. He was hamming it up, and yet I could see that a part of him was at least partially serious about the age thing. I couldn’t help teasing him a little more.

  “You’re much older than me, then. Four years.”

  “I know what you’re doing, and I won’t rise to the bait. Yes, I’m older than you by four measly years, which really just means that I’m wiser.”

  “No doubt.” I smiled at him and he grinned back at me. I held the connection as long as I could.

  I was beginning to wonder how long I could remain in the “just friends” mode with Aaron. I wanted him. I was physically attracted to him for sure (the hard-on I had throughout breakfast alone was proof of that), but I also sincerely enjoyed being with him. I had to figure out how to make him want me in return. I thought maybe he was attracted to me. The problem was that he was very wary. I wondered if he’d had a bad breakup or was just not comfortable with the bi thing. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  As we walked back toward my apartment after breakfast, Aaron chattered about everything from the cupcake store at the corner (“The lines are insane, but the coconut may just be worth the wait.”) to a passerby’s lack of winter gear (obvious out-of-towner). He was quick-witted and funny. His expressions were hysterical at times, and his hands moved in time with his stories. I had really enjoyed his company, and I was reluctant to say good-bye.

  He stopped at a small black BMW parked in front of my place.

  “Well, this is me. I need to get home, grab a shower, and….”

  “When can I see you again?” Alarm warred with amusement on his expressive face, and I took a second to, again, appreciate how fucking pretty he was. “I mean, as friends.” I didn’t want to add that last part, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t bolt.

  “Friends. Well, I don’t know, Matt. You know I like to run and go to clubs. I like shopping too, but that look on your face tells me you wouldn’t make a fun shopping partner. I know you like sports, but you’re out of luck with me there. I know you love music, and you’re very good, by the way. You can always invite me to a show. But….”

  “Shopping isn’t horrible. I could go shopping with you.” Yeah, he saw through me right away and held up his hand, laughing.

  “Puh-leaze… I can see it now. Ten minutes at Barneys and you’d be crawling out of your skin. But, if you want… well, I mean, if you were interested….”

  “What already?”

  “There is a photography exhibit at a small gallery off Dupont Circle and….”

  “Sure! When?” Desperate much?

  Aaron laughed at my exuberance. “It’s Thursday night. It’s a small exhibit. We wouldn’t have to stay for the whole thing, but I said I’d go.”

  “Cool. I like photography. So, can I pick you up? Do you want to grab dinner after? If you can, I mean.”

  “Yes. That sounds nice, Matty. Okay, friend, it’s a date!”

  Affection comes more easily to some than others. I wasn’t surprised when Aaron leaned forward to plant a very platonic kiss on my cheek. I was pretty sure I surprised him when I turned quickly to intercept his lips with my own. His eyes remained open, but he didn’t pull back right away. His lips were as sweet as I remembered, and I wasn’t sorry I’d acted impulsively. It was the first physical contact I’d had with him in two months. My body was crying for more.

  Aaron gently pushed me away, his expression telling me he wasn’t sorry either. I knew it didn’t mean he was ready to move beyond friendship yet, but I made it clear that I was. Time to rein it in, Matt.

  “So, I’m sorry. What time did you say?”

  Aaron looked at me a little suspiciously but gave me instructions for Thursday, adding that I should dress nicely, but not too nice. I had no idea what that meant, but I would figure it out.

  WE TALKED a couple times during the week before our Thursday “date” at the gallery. I took advantage of my wardrobe uncertainty, figuring he’d be the right guy to ask for fashion advice. We were on the phone for a good hour until his battery ran out on his cell and I had to admit to having a paper due the following day.

  The next time, it was Aaron calling me. He said he was wondering about a restaurant suggestion for after the show. He warned me they would try to stuff us full of canapés, but we would probably still be hungry. Did I fancy Indian food? I had no idea what a canapé was, and I hadn’t had much Indian food but assured him I was game to give it a try. The conversation began while I was making my way home from my internship, through the mass of traffic getting back to Georgetown, and then through a short hike to the market to pick up something quick for dinner. I hung up with him once I was back at my apartment, finishing the conversation as I put away a few groceries. And yeah, I had a big stupid smile on my face.

  “Who was that?” Dave had wandered into the small kitchen, chomping on what looked like reheated Chinese.

  “Oh, my friend Aaron.”

  “Aaron. Sweet. When did you meet her?” I gave him a second glance but realized he truly thought I’d met a girl named Erin and wasn’t deliberately being a dick. I had no reason to think my friends would know about Aaron, though. I’d kept this, whatever it was, between us quiet. I wasn’t sure I was ready to share him, but not because I was ashamed. It had more to do with wanting something real to happen and not wanting to jinx my chances by speaking of it prematurely. Superstitious. Yes, I admit it.

  “A while ago, and we’re just friends,” I explained while I folded my recycle bags.

  “Oh. You sounded kinda funny. You know, like you were talking to a hot date, maybe a new chick.”

  “Mmm. No, not a chick. Who says ‘chick’ anyway?” Dave just shrugged good-naturedly and plopped down in front of the television.

  THURSDAY finally arrived. I whistled my way through two classes and worked three hours at the firm before racing back to my apartment to get ready for my date—correction, my art gallery and dinner outing with my friend, Aaron. He had strongly suggested a nice pair of dark slacks, a sharp oxford shirt (“I know you own one, Matty.”), and a dark blazer (“Really optional, but you’d look great in one.”). He assured me a tie wasn’t necessary. Good. I showered, shaved, and dressed as instructed before swiping my keys off the table on my way back out the door.

  Curt and Dave were just coming in as I was about to step out. Dave was carrying a twelve pack of beer, and Curt had what looked like a bag of munchies in his hand.

  “Dude! You look nice. Where you going? Hot date?” Dave pushed past me on his way to the kitchen to deposit his goods.

  “Um, well actually, I’m going to an art gallery show with a friend of mine.” I was tucking my scarf into my nicest coat when I caught the look my buddies gave each other and then me. “What?”

  “Who is she, Matt? Come on… you’re holding out on us!” Great. Now Curt was curious. That was more worrisome than Dave’s questioning. Curt was tenacious. If he wanted answers, he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. Well, he’d have to wait, I dec
ided. I didn’t want to be late picking up Aaron.

  “Not she. I’m going with my friend Aaron. See you guys.” I escaped immediately, but the look on Curt’s face told me he remembered Aaron and that I had some explaining to do. Whatever. I would deal with my friends’ curiosity later.

  I made it to Aaron’s in record time, sending him a text when I was in front of his building. A car was pulling out of a prime spot near his building’s main entrance, so I maneuvered my way over to snag it in case Aaron wasn’t ready. Aaron called me just as I’d set my car in park.

  “Matty, I’m so sorry. I am running so behind. I need another ten minutes. Come on up? I promise I’ll hurry. You remember the way?”

  “Sure. 5E, right?”

  “Impressive. I’m off!”

  He sounded winded, like he was indeed in a major rush. I could hear music pumping loudly in the background. Must be his method of unwinding. I smiled to myself, thinking we were similar in that music was definitely how I unwound after a long, stressful day, and yet how different our musical choices were! His dance music made me cringe a little inside, but somehow it made sense to me that it worked for him.

  Of course, it came as no surprise as the elevator opened to the fifth floor that the bass boom could be heard down the hall. I shook my head, wondering if he’d hear my knock and how the hell his neighbors put up with him. The door was actually open a bit, possibly in anticipation of my arrival.

  “Aaron?” I called over the incessant beat of a Black Eyed Peas song I sort of recognized as I closed the door behind me. I noticed his place was as tidy as I remembered on my first visit; however, a peek into his bedroom just beyond showed a ransacked mess. Wardrobe issue? I couldn’t think with the music blaring, and I had yet to see my host. I saw a speaker set up on his kitchen counter and made my way over to put myself, as well as the rest of his building, out of our misery. That caught his attention.

  “Oh, hi!” Aaron sashayed into the room wearing very tight black leather pants and a floral-print, blousy-looking button-down shirt. His gorgeous eyes were heavily lined and highlighted with what looked like glitter. His feet were bare, and I think his toes were actually painted to match the black or dark-blue hue on his fingers. He kissed my cheek in greeting and grabbed a small tube of lip gloss, which he used liberally as he took in my appearance.