It was these little things, these anecdotes and glimpses of his life, that made me fall for him. He had a way of sharing random bits and pieces of his life whenever we were together and it felt like I had known him for a very long time. He never ran out of stories; most of them I found ironic and funny. I sat close to him, my arms wrapped around his body, while I listened, enraptured. He listened to mine, but I wanted to learn more about him. The days that we spent together closed the gap of the years we were strangers.
Finally, on the anniversary of the first month after my farting incident, he asked me out to dinner while we were watching a rerun of The Simpsons at his place.
“What? Tonight?” I asked. “Sure, we always have dinner together.”
“No, not just another dinner. Let’s dress up and go to some fancy restaurant,” he said. “It will be fun. We can pretend to be spies or something.”
“So does that mean I have to wear a little black dress? Are we playing Mr. and Mr. Smith?”
He laughed and pinched my biceps. “So you want to be Angelina Jolie?”
“If you can be my Brad Pitt, why not?” I said.
I went back to my apartment and put on a suit. I stared long and hard at the mirror until my reflection had a life of its own. I made sure that no strand of hair was out of place. I made sure that there were no creases on my suit. I practiced smiling, talking, and making all sorts of face, including how I would look when I had an orgasm. I knew how I looked when I climaxed and it was not bad, but still, I wanted to be sure, because I didn’t know how it would go with Kade. My feelings for him were so strong that when the time came for us to make love, I might completely lose myself and forget I was ever human or on earth.
When he picked me up at my place and stepped out of the car, my heart hit the pavement so hard I heard it thud. He was so beautiful in my eyes that an erection was inevitable. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and a naughty grin. “Ready?” he asked me as he opened the door to let me in. I shifted my pants just so I could make my erection less obvious.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Stop treating me like a princess.”
He shook his head, smiling, and got in on the driver’s side.
“What restaurant? You made a reservation?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but continued driving. I recognized the road he was driving on and I realized that he was taking me back to his place.
“Did you forget something?” I asked him while he parked his car in front of his place.
He looked at me and winked. He kissed me and said, “Let’s go in.”
“We’re having dinner here?” I asked.
He took my hand without saying anything. When he opened the door and led me to the dining room, there was food, wine and a vase of red roses at the center of the table.
“You made all these?” I asked, surprised. ”When?”
“After you left,” he said. “I had all the ingredients already. Cooking is easy.”
There were steaks and ribs, salads and mashed potatoes, and red wine. The light in the dining room was soft and subdued and instrumental music of love ballads from the 80s and 90s was in the air.
I almost hummed along with a mellowed, piano version of True Colors while I was slicing my rib-eye.
“How’s your steak?” he asked me while we sat face-to-face across the short width of the oak table.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
I liked him the first time I saw him. That much I admitted to myself. And ever since, I had tried hard to control what I felt towards him. I knew I was in love with him after just a few days of being with him. But I also knew that it was too premature to call it love. It had been a month since then. I knew what I felt was different than anything I had ever felt with anyone before. But still, I didn’t want to surrender to my feelings. After all the failed attempts at a relationship, I had become cautious when it came to matters of the heart.
Every day I was with Kade, he made me believe in love again. He made me believe that someone like him could love someone like me. I didn’t know if we would be here if our circumstances were different, but we were here now and that was all that mattered. When he looked at me, he saw a human being and not the stereotype of an Asian, gay, HIV-positive man. It was the first time in my life I ever felt completely open and accepted. He didn’t treat me like a second-class citizen, nor any different from him. I didn’t know where all this would lead. And I had told myself long ago that I would never be the first one to admit love because it made me vulnerable. But with him just a few inches away from me, his long slender hands holding the knife and fork while he sliced through his steak, I could not resist. I was drawn to him like magnet. He pulled me, everyday, he pulled me deeper into him, and I found it hard to resist him.
I was afraid. Who isn’t afraid to love? But the feeling was too strong. It came like a huge wave on a stormy night. I had long wanted this. And now that it was here, it felt magical and unreal. This reality was so much better than how I imagined it would be.
I stood up and walked over to Kade. I asked for his hand. He stood up and held me. I felt a quiver run all over my body. I looked at him, our faces an inch away from each other. I kissed him on the lips and I whispered to him, “Kade, I know it’s too early, but I can’t hold it anymore. I so fucking love you.”
He pulled my body closer to him, one hand on the nape of my neck and the other at the base of my spine. He whispered back, “I love you too, Barron. So much.”
The minutes, hours, and night melted away. Our bodies dissolved into one another. In bed, on the carpeted floor, in the bathroom, the long chair, our hearts, our beings, our minds joined. Cocks crowed and birds sang to herald the dawn of a new day. We became one.
##END##
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and not to be construed as real. In no way does it intend to represent any real event or person, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Stories by Charles Z Doilain
Something Fantastical
Cendre and the Glass Slippers
(The War of the Cinders: Book 1)
Raphonium and the Manly Bosom
(The War of the Cinders: Book 2)
Fabilio and the Seven Brothers
(The War of the Cinders: Book 3)
Something Depressing
A Beginner’s Guide to Why I Killed Myself
Something Contemporary
A Summer and The Fall
(The Gay Seasons: Book 1)
The Long Ennui of Winter
(The Gay Seasons: Book 2)
The Blossoming of Spring
(The Gay Seasons: Book 3)
The Conflict of Our Dreams
(Prequel to The Gay Seasons)
Something Positive
(Short Stories about HIV/AIDS)
My Funny, Embarrassing 117th Date
A Positive Outlook
My Son, The Stranger
The Bludgeoning of Chance
About the Author
Charles Z Doilain is a tech professional by day and writer by night (or all the time, in the head). He has a degree in engineering and a minor in philosophy. After traveling around the world, a few years in the American Midwest and stints as a systems analyst, freelance writer, and chocolate connoisseur, he decided to set down roots in the country of his birth and write the stories that have been sitting in his head for years.
In his spare time, he reads all manner of books and graphic novels, writes some more, and does household chores.
You can visit his website for news and updates: http://www.charlesdoilain.com
Find him on Instagram: @charlesdoilain
Find him on Twitter: @charlesdoilain
Find him on Facebook: facebook.com/cdoilain
Charles Z Doilain, My Funny, Embarrassing 117th Date
My Funny, Embarrassing 117th Date Page 3