Page 8 of The Embrace of Evergreen
I don’t usually think of anyone as attractive in a conventional way. I can objectively notice when someone is handsome or beautiful, but attraction just doesn’t seem to happen for me. No matter what someone looks like; I never find myself wondering if they smell good or if they find my looks appealing. I can’t imagine myself kissing them, and there is no rush of adrenaline that surges through my veins when they’re close, no desperate need to touch or be touched. I’m not drawn to this man because of his electric teal hair, kept long enough that it falls just below his cheekbones when he runs his fingers through it, pulling it back briefly and then letting it tumble like water back into place against his face, which he does often. It’s not the ribbons of black ink that cover his forearms that are so pleasantly on display in his simple white T-shirt or the hint of the same dark patterns that peek out of his collar to caress the base of his throat. It’s not even the handful of piercings that grace his ears or the one in his lower lip that he worries with his teeth from time to time. I’m drawn to him because of the way he talks and smiles and laughsand moves and even sits like the world doesn’t affect him. He doesn’t seem to worry that others might judge his appearance. He doesn’t seem to care if his laugh is too forceful or his language too vulgar, or that once or twice he’s snorted in amusement loudly enough that I’ve been able to hear it from across the small café. He’s bright and colorful and filled with confidence. Everything about him says that he’s completely comfortable with himself, and I can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to live that way. To live with laughter and love and openness.
Both men are sitting at a slight angle rather than directly across from one another, but Gabriel has his back to me, so I can see the blue-haired stranger’s face over his shoulder if I glance their way. He smiles a lot as they talk. A lot, a lot. He should smile always. The brilliant flash of his white teeth and the tiny wrinkles that appear beside his eyes hold my attention in a way few things ever have, and I can’t stop stealing glances. His movements as he gestures are smooth and elegant, and the black lines of his tattoos and flashes of silver piercings stand out against his light-tan skin like little works of art. Watching him is like watching a well-choreographed dance.
Even though I haven’t really felt sexually attracted to anyone in more than a decade, I can recognize high cheekbones and strong muscles as easily as the next guy, and Gabriel and the blue-haired stranger are both beautiful men. While I don’t think of either of them as sexy, and I’m not sitting here imagining what it would be like to touch them or kiss them or take themhome the way I know most people do when they look at someone that attractive, a tiny spark of…something…stirs in my belly as I watch the stranger grin and talk and laugh. It’s confusing, and I wonder if the flush I feel vibrating across my skin for the briefest of moments is the start of a cold or the flu, but I don’t think it is. I think I just like watching him smile, all soft and loving and joyful. When his eyes catch mine over Gabriel’s shoulder, the whole world stops spinning, and the entirety of the universe is reduced to one singular point of focus. His eyes are blue - not a striking, bright sky blue - but the gentle pale, greenish blue-grey of waves caressed by sunlight after a storm. The tiny crinkles beside them deepen as his smile widens, and he winks. One of his breathtaking blue-grey eyes vanishes under a lid framed by long black lashes and then returns for a fraction of a second before he turns his head away, and his attention shifts back to his conversation with Gabriel.
I don’t suddenly experience a sexual rush at the gesture. It doesn’t make me want to ask him to fuck or if I can kiss him. I don’t even want to do something crazy and spontaneous like ask him to dinner as that would inevitably end the way all of my pathetic attempts to date do. But there is something about the kindness in his eyes and the delight in his smile and the way he didn’t quickly turn away when he noticed me watching him that makes the odd sensation in my belly swirl once more. He’s beautiful and fascinating, and yet, for some strange reason, his brief attention hasn’t left me feeling awkward or panicked or like I need to crawl under the table andhide or rush out the door. Something about him feels just the tiniest bit…comfortable.
Blue
“What the fluff was that?”
Yes. Gabriel says the word fluff out loud. While he can easily match my proficient and practiced professional level of swearing when he wants to, he believes that there are far too few actual swear words, and he prefers not to limit himself.
“What?” I know feigning innocence will just rile him up. He clearly saw me wink at the cute guy on the blue sofa.
“Gabriel.” Hissing his name as he starts turning his head doesn’t stop him. Of course it doesn’t.
When I glance back up at the stranger, he looks like he wants to crawl underneath the couch so that we can’t see him anymore. Before I can even shift my gaze back to scold Gabriel for scaring him, the man downs the rest of his espresso, sets his cup on the small table, and takes off toward the door.
“Ooooooo, that explains it.”
I feel myself flush as my gaze returns to Gabriel, only to find him wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“He is a hot one, isn’t he? He’s been coming in regularly for about a week now, so maybe he’s moved in nearby. Want me to try and find out for you? He seems a bit uptight. Maybe a banker or stockbroker or something. The sort of guy that just needs a night with you to loosen them up a bit. I bet he’d start off all slow and reserved and work his way up to one of your elusive B pluses by the end of the night.”
I roll my eyes so hard that for a moment, I’m afraid they might get stuck in the back of my head, just like my mother always warned me they might.
“You know I don’t pick up random stockbrokers a block away from home.”
“Maybe you should. He actually seems really sweet.”
I can’t help the snort that escapes. “Ya. That’s what I need in my life. A sweet stockbroker who lives a block away from me.”
Gabriel flashes a grin and wiggles his eyebrows again. “It might be.”
“It’s not.”
He reaches across the table and twists my nipple before I can stop him.
“I love you, Blue, and I’m not saying that your one-night-stand rule isn’t justified given, well…your history and all, but…”
He reaches over to pinch me yet again when I try to interrupt him, and I smack his hand away just in time. I swear half our relationship is me slapping him when he tries to lovingly assault me.
“I’m not pushing the issue. I’m just saying. He’s hot. He seems sweet, and you winked at him. You flicking winked at him. That is not your game.”
He may or may not have a point.
“So.” I sound like a whiny teenager sassing their parents.
“Blue, you are the most predictable guy I know. We go out on Friday nights; you flirt with someone at the club or the bar or for Harrold’s sake, the movie theater, and you take them home. No, you go home with them or disappear into the bathroom or you squish yourselves into the back seat of their car like you’re horny teenagers. Also, calling it flirting is being kind, by the way. You’re less subtle than a train crash.”
I flick a sugar packet at his stupid face. “I’m not that bad.”
“Babe, I’ve literally heard you say, ‘Want to go fuck?’ to like a dozen guys. Not even, ‘Do you want to get out of here? Do you want to go fuck?’”
“Well, I don’t want them to think I’m asking for anything more complicated than that.”
“So maybe if you run into cute stockbroker again, ask him if he wants to fuck and see what happens.”
