Coffee

I sat outside on the porch. Hair only a tiny bit up, in a hair band, skirt, and t-shirt. I looked like looking nice was a habit. Like this was just what I wore when I was going out. Nothing special. Don’t infer anything from the way I look. We’re two friends meeting up and no one expects a thing.

At least I hoped.

And while I sat there, toying with my phone (Regular Dave had sent me a text saying he was on his way 20 minutes ago) I tried to decide how far I would go. I would kiss him, but only if he kissed me first, I decided. I would do… whatever else… but only if he… whatever else. And we wouldn’t go all the way. Unless we did. Solid plan Aisling. You have this down to a T.

Shut up Aisling. I’m trying.

The period pains had mostly subsided. I took some Motrin from the kitchen cupboard, where mom stored all the pills.

I swung my legs for a second. In a manic fit, I had done something terrible and raided my mother’s closet. I knew she had a pair of calf-highs in them. I knew they wouldn’t have a heel. And I knew (now) how well they would match my skirt. They were tight, gunmetal black, and had a spur strap with buckles. Can women’s clothes be colored gunmetal? Probably called “slate.”

“Are those my boots?” She had asked, knowing they were.

“We’re almost the same size,” It was a poor defense, but I made the play anyway.

“They look good on you. Don’t let Autumn keep you out too late.”

I hadn’t corrected her. We both knew I was dressing up. We both knew why I was dressing up. One of us knew who I was dressing up for, and it would never be her. Ever.

Regular Dave drove a beaten white truck of generic make. Possibly a Toyota. I ran down the steps, checked myself, and then strode really cool to his door and got inside. Regular Dave hadn’t dressed up up either. Instead he’d put on a cologne that smell like the island of Hawa’ii had ejaculated all over him. It was kind of sweet. The gesture. The smell was so sweet it was suffocating. I was going to get used to it, or throw up. You’re not going to throw up where a boy can see you. I would not do that if my life depended on it.

“Where are we going, doll?”

“Leela’s, daddyo.”

“Parking downtown?”

I turned in my seatbelt and batted my lashes at him, “Don’t you want to show a girl a good time?”

“Give a guy a chance.”

“I won’t blow your dice, if that’s what you mean.”

“My fingers can roll the dice just fine.”

Goddamn it. My flirt was stuck on with him and I couldn’t turn it off. It was like he sucked it out of me. Oh, new line! “You know, if a girl didn’t know better she’d think your intentions were intentional.”

“Everything I do is intentional, doll.”

“Then intend to get me back here by nine.”

Regular Dave laughed, “Will your daddy be waiting with a shotgun?”

“With pruning shears.” I dug out my phone, “A real gentleman would let the lady choose the music.”

He turned onto the highway, “Ma’am, I’m a gentleman in all but purpose.”

Please calm down nipples. He isn’t—oh. Around 40% I would say. Man being a guy really taught me how to tell the difference between a wrinkle in the jeans and a wrinkle in the jeans.

Leela’s is just about the only 24 hour coffee shop in Denver. Well, other than Waffle House. It’s down on the 16th street mall (one street south, actually), where parking is insane and the people are insaner. The sidewalks are a mess down here, littered with gum and cigarette stains. Nowadays Uber and Lyft cars patrol the area by the dozen, and on a Sunday the bars are still overflowing onto the street up until last call.

Leela’s leaves their front door open all of the time that there is, and in every weather that exists. In the middle of a hurricane you could go down to Leela’s and find their front door open.

Regular Dave and I waited in a very short line, his hand close to mine but not touching it. When we got to the part of the counter that wasn’t the bar he let me order a mocha and then got some kind of espresso drink. We held up the line waiting, because Leela’s has only the one place to order and pick up. Drinks came, we found the couches and sat down. Well I sat down. He vacillated, torn between sitting across from me and sitting next to me. I patted the couch cushion to my right, and scooted to face him as he sat down. “So, what did you bring me here to talk about?”

He looked blank. With his face.

“You must have wanted to talk about something.”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you a bit.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” I disturbed myself by patting his knee, “We’ll get you woke soon.”

He took a drag of the espresso, “You just seem cool, and I wanted to hang out.”

That’s not what he wanted. But I would play his game. I crossed my arms, so that they pushed my breasts up and peaked the cleavage out of the top, “Oh is that all? You know we can hang out at school.”

“Well we can’t get coffee and talk about whatever we want at school. Those boots look great, by the way.”

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The way to a woman’s heart is through her wardrobe. We’re like Narnia. Oh shit. I thought ‘we’. Think about that later, flirt now. “Thanks. I borrowed them. I might not give them back.”

“Whoever you borrowed them from doesn’t deserve them.”

“You’re sweet.” I caught him with my eyebrows and reeled him in, “You really think they make me look good?” Feed me compliments!

“They’re great, and they make your legs look great too.”

We chatted about nothing for a few minutes, while he continued to tell me how great I looked. It was like being in control somehow. All he was doing was saying, “I like the way you look.” But to my mind he was falling down in worship. I felt a little like a goddess. It was a pretty great feeling. “Thank you for inviting me onto the crew,” I told him.

“Oh sure. Do you like it?”

“Yeah! I’ve never built anything before. Not just sat down with a pile of things and made a thing out of all the things I had… I mean, I’ve played with Lego—”

“I love Lego—”

I patted his leg, “Don’t interrupt me. I’ve played with Lego, but this is that cranked up to 10.”

“You mean up to eleven.”

I patted his leg, with a rub this time, “Don’t tell me what I mean. If it was up to eleven we’d be building mechs to take down the clans.”

Regular Dave nodded like he had no idea what I was talking about. Mech Warrior really is forgotten. The flight sim is dead. “Building a Thor to take down the Zerg then. Is that better?”

“That one I get.” And we talked some Star Craft.

“Why did you though?” We hit a lull in the conversation. My ankle was resting on his knee, he was turned toward me, and there was some familial tension going on. Like friends meeting over coffee who might fuck later.

“You looked cool.”

“No, really. Why?”

Regular Dave shrugged, hands out, “You look hot, and cute at the same time.”

Okay, I just baited him into complimenting how great I look and I’m angry at him for telling me I’m hot. I didn’t even think it was a period mood swing. I was just a woman mood swing. “And so you invited me into your club to get with me?”

He either knew that he’d stepped in shit, and was too smooth, or he never felt it squish under his boot, “Nah. That we could have done anyway. No, you just looked like a techie.” He sipped his espresso and looked off into the distance, “Like a techie that doesn’t know she’s a techie yet. We’ve all been there.”

I signaled that I forgave him by switching my body around and leaning on his shoulder. It was hard not to touch him. He looked… not tortured… but deep in his thoughts. I don’t know why that made me want to comfort him, but it did. “What do you mean?”

“Tech isn’t like acting. No one gets in to tech because they all know about how great being a theater tech is. Most people who watch a show don’t even know that it’s a job that exists. They know that someone must build all those sets, and run the lights and sound, but who it is doesn’t matter to them. Most of them assume that it’s just actors out of costume moving the sets and whatever. So you don’t get into tech because it’s what you want to do. You get involved because you kind of fell into it. Wandered onto a stage and couldn’t leave. Brother does it, so you pick it up and love it. Parent’s in the theater and you need something to occupy your time.” He gestured to me, “some guy you like told you to do it, and you did.”

I toyed with the back of his hand as I said, “Who says I even like you.”

Regular Dave scooted away from me on the couch, and I felt hurt until he started talking and I understood, “Aisling, I’m getting some really mixed signals here.”

I reached out to touch him and thought better of it, “Why?”

“Are you gay?”

“Oh.” I sat back on the couch and looked away from him. Shrug, “Yeah, I dunno.”

“Can you sort it out? Because the energy I’m getting from you is not so much like a lesbian.”

I tried not to let my hormones take control of my mood, which was crashing hard. I know how to calm down from angry. How do I stop feeling petulant? “Why did you take me out here then?”

“Because I like you.” He rubbed my calf through my boot, and then read the situation and stopped.

Man, the entire night spoiled like yogurt in a sauna. But I came there having resolved not to be confused. I had made some decisions about myself. He wasn’t going to understand that unless I explained everything to him. Well not everything. Maybe 1% of everything. Autumn had said that she was more confused than anything…

Let’s go with that, since it’s the truth. “I do like you,” I slumped. “I just didn’t want to, and then I didn’t want to want to, and now I don’t know what I want.” I put my chin in my hand, “I’m just…”

“You’re just confused.”

I put my legs back on his lap so he could rub them, because that felt nice. “I’m not just confused. Everything in my brain has come undone in the past week.” Not knowing what I wanted to do with my body, I turned it around and leaned into him again, “Can we just stop labeling things and just go with it?”

“Sure. I just didn’t want to cross any lines here.”

He was being respectful? I mean—of course he was being respectful. He was a sex crazed rake, and de facto president of an orgy club, but that didn’t mean he had to be an asshole about it.

Regular Dave put his arm around my shoulders and rubbed my arm. Then he took a cautious look around my and snaked his arm under mine and held my hand. The way we were set up his arm brushed over my boob and sort of cuddle it, while not actually getting presumptuous. That feels so nice. I held his hand closer, found it was all soft and warm, and felt a flood of emotions. Pretty much all good emotions. This was good cuddles.

And they could get better. The world seemed to twist and snap into focus as I realized it was the perfect time to crane my neck up and kiss him.