by M. J. O'Shea
There was a great café just on the other side of Esplanade Avenue, so he walked down there, ordered a coffee and a few breakfast sandwiches to go, and made his way back to his house. Usually on Saturday, Avery logged in some Netflix time, maybe hung out with Macy or one of his friends from campus. Sometimes they went out… but he had that number burning a hole in his phone, and he so so so wanted to use it.
He finished his coffee and sandwiches and called Macy instead of doing what he wanted to do, which would have been lame and losery and very desperate.
“Why are you awake?” was how she answered the phone. She didn’t sound very happy to be joining him.
“I’ve been awake for a while. Went out and got breakfast and… I want to call him.”
“So call him,” she grumbled. Avery heard her sheets rustle and then an indignant squeak and feet hitting the ground. She definitely hadn’t been up.
“Is that, like, dorky?”
“What? You’re going to have to talk a little bit clearer. I’m not what you’d call awake,” Macy said.
“Is it dorky to call him already? It hasn’t been very long.”
“Are we thirteen?”
He felt thirteen. He felt like a kid experiencing his first real crush. He needed help, not smartass answers.
“If I bring you breakfast, will you talk about this with me? I’m dying here, Mace. I’m far out of my league, and I don’t know what to do. Plus, you wanted to know all about it last night.”
Macy grumbled but then said, “Yeah, fine. I want a bacon breakfast sandwich. And beignets. And coffee.”
“Anything else?” Avery laughed.
“No. Don’t rush. I need a shower. I look like Swamp Thing.”
“I won’t rush.”
Avery might be about ready to vibrate out of his skin, but he’d try to take his time.
HE took the long way to Macy’s place. She lived closer to the school than he did, right off St. Charles in the top floor of an old mansion. He loved her apartment. It was bright, with wooden floors, angled attic ceilings, and pale yellow walls. She’d filled it with leather furniture, books and rugs, and kitschy old things she’d found all over the world. It was adult and interesting, and sometimes Avery was a little bit jealous. But he also loved his little cottage, and he couldn’t have both.
Macy was showered and dressed in sweats and a tank top. Her hair was piled in a buttery mess on her head, and she had slid her feet into flip-flops. She looked a lot happier to see him than she’d sounded forty minutes before. She made grabby hands at the bag, and he handed over her coffee. Avery was on his second of the day, but he needed it, damn it.
“Okay. What’s up?”
“I really like him, Mace,” Avery said. He sank into his customary seat in her living room and cradled his coffee in his hand. “I feel like a moron. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Avery. You have a genius IQ.” Macy rolled her eyes and sank her teeth into one of the beignets. Avery snickered at the powdered sugar mustache it gave her.
“My enormous IQ has always served me so well when it comes to social situations,” he reminded her when she was done chewing.
“What do you want to do?”
“Call him. See him today. Kiss him a lot.” Which he would’ve done last night if his traitorous friends hadn’t showed up right when they did. “I want to.”
“So why exactly aren’t you doing it?”
“What are the rules?” he asked. He felt a little desperate. “What am I supposed to be doing here?”
“Fuck the rules.” Macy had never been one for following them. Avery wondered if that was why he went to her for his push. “You two… I swear, the whole bar could feel the vibes coming off you. Call him. He wants to hear from you.”
“How ’bout I text him instead? Give him an out?”
Macy shook her head and took another messy sugary bite of her beignet. “Fuck, this is good.” She groaned. “Listen. I say bite the bullet, but if you’ll feel better texting him, you can do that too. Just don’t let it go. Get in touch with him again. I want this for you.” It was a moment of seriousness with zero of the Macy sarcasm and flippantness. He knew what she was seeing, though. He’d felt it too.
“Are you going to call Donovan?” Maybe a bit of solidarity would help.
She shrugged. “Probably. He was fun, but it’s not the same thing, babe. I saw your face when you said goodbye to Tyson. Do it.” She pointed at his pocket. “Text him now.”
“What should I say?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes and took another huge bite of the beignet. “What do you want to say? You’re making this way harder than it needs to be.”
Avery thought… well, stalled for a few minutes, then typed in the message.
Hey, this is Avery from the bar last night. It was really nice to meet you. I’d like to see you again.
Then he hit Send before he could freak out any more about just how awkward he sounded.
“Did you do it?” she asked.
“Yes. I sent it.”
He shook his head. He half expected never to hear from Tyson again. Sure he had a phone number, but it still didn’t feel real. In the light of day, it was hard to believe it had all meant as much to Tyson as it had to him. Maybe it was just a normal Friday night. Maybe he’d be there again tonight with a different guy. Avery gritted his teeth.
Stop it.
“Drink your coffee, and let’s watch some Food Network. He’ll text. I promise.” Macy flopped back against her chair with her bag of breakfast cuddled up to her chest like a favorite child.
“Okay.”
Avery drank his coffee and fiddled with his phone and tried to pretend he was paying attention to whatever rerun cooking show was on, until it buzzed with a text. His heart flapped painfully.
“I can’t open it,” he wheezed.
“Oh my God.” Macy dove over and grabbed his phone. “Look, it says he wants to see you again too. Asked if you would want to meet up at the club.”
“T-tonight?” Avery was terrified all of a sudden. “Can I just… go there?”
“I mean, he invited you. I’m sure you’ll be able to get in. Is that what you’re worried about?”
“No. I mean, kind of, but no. I can’t just walk in there and be, like, ‘Hey.’”
Macy shrugged. “I’ll text Donovan. He’ll meet me there, and I can be a buffer, okay, babe?”
Avery’s relief was palpable. He loved Macy very, very much. Especially right in that moment. “Yeah. That’s actually perfect.”
“So text him back.”
“Give me my phone first.”
Macy chuckled and handed Avery his phone.
Avery’s fingers shook a little when he typed.
I’d love to. What time?
He was going to see Tyson again.
Shit.
ABOUT fifteen outfits and an entire eternity of a day later, Avery was in front of the club, waiting for Macy to show up. He wanted to just… go. He couldn’t stand waiting anymore. The day had passed slower than an entire term of teaching, slower than waiting to go on a vacation. It was just impossible. Finally Macy’s late-as-usual ass came around the corner in a low-cut dress and heels.
“You look amazing. What the hell took so long?” Avery grumbled. He’d probably lost ten pounds fidgeting out there, full of nerves. He should’ve just gone on his own. It was going to look so lame to need his babysitter with him. Still, he grabbed Macy’s arm.
She chuckled. “Let’s go in so you can get to your boy.”
The club was the same as last time, but it felt like Avery could see details that had been glossed over in a haze of newness the night before. It still seemed huge, but less foreign, less scary. He stared up at the second floor balcony that he’d completely not even noticed the last time. There were tables up there, exclusive, roped off, and filled with more people. There was another bar up there too. The dance floor was still rather empty, but Avery knew from his limited experi
ence that it would fill soon enough. And then he glanced over at Donovan’s table in the corner, and there he was. Tyson.
He was wearing a pale T-shirt and jeans, and his hair was soft instead of perfectly styled. It fell across his face, and he looked, well, he looked like one of the kids in Avery’s classes. Avery realized he was going to have to sort that out before he felt like a damn cradle robber. If Tyson was barely old enough to drink, they needed to deal with that. Soon.
Macy pinched Avery’s side, and they wound their way through the thickening crowd to the booth. Avery’s belly started to flutter, and then they were there.
“Hey,” he croaked out. God.
“Hi there.” Tyson gave him this glamorous grin. He scooted over and patted the plush bench next to him. “Have a seat.”
He seemed so much more open than he had the night before. Instead of aloof and otherworldly, he just seemed like a real person. A beautiful, gorgeous “Holy shit I can’t believe he exists” real person, but real nonetheless.
Macy scooted next to Donovan on the bench, and Donovan waved at Brooke. “Same as last night?” he asked Macy and Avery.
“Yes, please,” Avery said. “Thank you.”
Donovan shrugged with a smile. “Not a problem.”
Avery turned to Tyson and wanted to just lean. Lean closer and closer. And hell. That was what they were there for that night, right? So he did.
“You know I’m really glad I heard from you,” Tyson said. “I wasn’t sure I was going to.”
Avery inhaled and breathed out slowly. He still couldn’t believe it somehow. Like he’d descended into an alternate universe once again. Tyson smelled so good, and the warmth from his skin seeped through Avery’s shirt. Avery practically forgot Macy existed. It wasn’t until he looked up that he realized she and Donovan were talking across the table.
“Really? Why?”
Tyson shrugged, like he was trying to be casual. Avery thought he might care more than he was letting on. “I guess this place is pretty full-on for newcomers. I mean, sometimes it’s too much for me, and I’ve been coming here for ages.”
Avery laughed. “You keep saying that, but you look like you’re twenty. How could you have been going anywhere for ages?”
Tyson shook his head. “Not twenty.”
“How old are you?” Avery asked. He really did need to know before things went any further.
“Twenty-seven.” Tyson had hesitated for a second.
Avery chuckled. He didn’t know what to think about that. “Are you sure, or is that the age on your fake ID and you had to think about it?”
“I think I’m pretty sure. Remember? Archaeology degree.”
“I had a few of those by twenty-five.”
Tyson elbowed him gently. “Not all of us can be boy geniuses.”
Avery breathed a sigh of relief. Three years was nothing. He could roll with that. Besides, Tyson was so mature, so adult, especially compared to nervous Avery, that the years seemed to disappear.
Brooke returned with the drinks and a water for Tyson. It was the second night in a row that he wasn’t drinking. Avery wondered if he just didn’t. He wasn’t going to judge. He sipped his drink and felt it bubble up slowly to his head. With that little haze of alcohol burning in his belly, he let himself lean even closer to Tyson, not worrying about appearances, but the fact that Tyson was younger still kind of intimidated him and sure as hell made him super nervous. None of that. He just leaned. Like he’d wanted to from the start.
“Hey, you okay?” Tyson said at one point. Avery had been contentedly listening to Tyson, Macy, and Donovan debate the merits of Warhol, Basquiat, and Haring for the past fifteen minutes. He loved the quick back-and-forth, how all of them were intelligent and well-informed. Usually Avery would be right in the middle of it with his opinion. He was just floaty and comfortable enough to be perfectly happy to listen.
“Yeah. I’m great.” He smiled up at Tyson. Then Tyson brushed a bit of hair off Avery’s forehead and he got a little melty inside.
“Good.”
He joined the conversation after that. The group was interesting and lively, two professors and two apparent lifelong learners. They barely noticed time going by. Another round of drinks came, this time the sparkly purple one Tyson had bought him at the bar the night before. Tyson’s arm was slung around his shoulders, and Avery barely registered anything outside the cocoon of their booth. He let himself slip a hand onto Tyson’s thigh. Avery didn’t get why he was still so nervous. He would’ve thought after the first few moments, he could have relaxed. He’d been an adult for… quite a while. He’d dated, although admittedly not very often. He wasn’t a dorky little kid anymore, figuring out that he really liked pretty boys. But Tyson just made his words trip out of his mouth like he was.
“Hey. You want to dance?” Tyson asked.
“Yeah? I mean, yeah.” Dancing. Well, that might be interesting. Avery liked to dance, but he wasn’t an expert at it.
Avery followed Tyson out onto the dance floor. It wasn’t anything that would require much skill. He swayed his hips and backed into Tyson’s chest. Tyson wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his middle and pulled them close enough that there was nothing between them.
“You smell so good,” he whispered into Avery’s ear. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
“I wanted to kiss you last night,” Avery told him. Then he tipped his head and let Tyson mouth up the side of his neck. It was the best kiss he’d ever had, and they hadn’t even started kissing yet.
He just swayed and let Tyson lick and bite his neck, breathe him in, and then Avery brushed his lips against Tyson’s. The kiss bloomed from there, from chaste brushes of lips, nibbling, and then Tyson sank his tongue into Avery’s mouth and groaned, and time stood still. They kissed under the lights of the dance floor, over and over until the song changed to something with a heavy beat, and Tyson turned him around and wrapped his arms around Avery’s waist again. Avery slung his arms over Tyson’s shoulders and kissed him again.
“I don’t want to stop,” Tyson murmured. “I—” He laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. Don’t want to freak you out. You’re just so amazing. Makes me want to say reckless things.” Tyson reached up and unwrapped Avery’s hands from his neck. “Let’s go sit down, ’kay?”
“Okay.”
Macy gave him a knowing grin when they sat down at the table. She was cuddled up to Donovan, chatting, but it didn’t look like much had happened while Avery and Tyson were gone.
THE rest of the night seemed to pass in some weird alternate dimension just like last time. In a way it was fast, a blur of lights and music and kisses and Tyson giving him zero space in the booth, which was exactly what he wanted. But in a way, it seemed like tumbling back to reality after a lifetime in another universe when they finally stumbled out of the club near dawn.
“I had fun tonight,” Tyson whispered. “Can I call you later?”
Avery had been half wondering if he’d go home with Tyson, but he guessed not yet. Maybe he was the old-fashioned kind. It was kind of sweet in a way.
“Yeah. Of course. Please.”
Tyson grinned into a kiss and then kissed Avery one more time on the forehead before he waved to Donovan and Macy.
“Night, guys.”
Macy grilled Avery the entire way home.
Chapter Five
MONDAY felt like Avery imagined Alice would’ve felt—unceremoniously dumped back into the real world after a whirlwind trip through wonderland. He cringed at the sound of his alarm and dragged himself into the shower and then into teaching clothes he didn’t feel like putting on. There was something about the drab khakis and plain blue button-up shirt that felt really wrong after the weekend he’d just had. Had it really been only a weekend? That had to be impossible.
Avery had that moment again where it all seemed like a dream, kind of like Saturday when he’d first woken up. This time, though, instead of a n
apkin with a written number on it, he had a flashing light on his phone and a text that read:
Knock ’em out today. I think you’ll be great.
He’d talked to Tyson a little bit about his apprehensions when he was teaching from his own book. Although he’d done it every semester for at least one course, it never felt any less cheesy to require reading from a book with his big dumb face on the back. He thought one day, one of them would point at him and call him a fraud and he’d be standing there naked with his book covering his junk, admitting that maybe he didn’t know anything at all. It was amplified by the weekend he’d had in a world that didn’t seem anything like their own. Maybe he didn’t quite know everything.
Also, he’d told Tyson how it felt weird to have the students ask questions about things he cared so personally about but didn’t have any real answers. That sometimes students seemed so certain about things that were full-on uncertainty, and he wanted to tell them to take a step back and look at what they were saying. But it was hard.
Tyson had seemed fascinated. At least he’d let Avery ramble on about vampires and werewolves and the origins of urban legends for at least fifteen minutes before Avery stopped himself and asked Tyson if he wanted to dance again. He wasn’t all that great at dating, but Tyson didn’t look at him with polite disinterest. Avery knew that look well. Anyway.
He had a text on his phone, boring teacher clothes, and a spring in his step that hadn’t been there in months. Maybe years.
BY the time Avery got to campus, the sun was out and it was balmy and warm and a little bit sticky. He smiled as he wheeled his bike through campus toward his building, and students waved at him as he passed. It helped to be back there and feel a bit of normalcy after the weekend he’d had. Made all of the intenseness a little bit more manageable.
“Morning, Avery,” Macy said from her perch on his office chair. He was a little startled, because since when was he ever not, but he still was very happy to see her. She was kind of like the link between the fantasy world of the weekend and the very real world he’d been plunked back into.