This was actually written for class, with a character I'd been itching to work with. There are parts connected to this "stand alone" piece, but this may give a bit of background for more than 3 other parts. I hope you enjoy.
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“Come here often?”
It was a line that Noel expected to say to a girl, but it wasn’t he who’d uttered it. In fact, the line itself hadn’t been delivered by anyone of the feminine variety either. Actually, they’d been said by a man. To him.
What-
Startled,he looked up at the visitor, to make sure that he was, in fact,talking to him. After looking around and making sure, his eyes widened a bit, and his cheeks flushed the barest shade of red. “Uhm, no, not really.” He answered, his fingers reaching back to tug at the curly blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, though his other firmly clenched the cup of coffee in his hand. Is this guy
flirting with me? It was kind of exciting, actually, but he refrained from giving that away (or, at least, he hoped he looked cool). “I mean I guess I could but I-” He stopped, stuttering. “Sorry, nevermind.”
His skin was dark and beautiful, and his dreadlocks were pulled away from his face, revealing a very chisled jaw as he leaned back against the coffee shop counter. There was something about his eyes that made him stand out; what color was that? Was that hazel? Green? Probably hazel. Either way, the blonde found himself lost in them for more than a moment.“No need to apologize.” He extended his hand to Noel. “Nate. Nice to meet you.”
“N-Noel.” He shook his head, attempting to reorganize his thoughts. Shit, what’s going on? Why’s he giving me his name holy Christ I’m going to puke, this is not happening.
It was, though. In the most mundane and cliché of places, in fact. The coffee shop on a familiar New York street corner with nothing new about it; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee was the same, the wooded floors the same, the sparkling white-marble counters, cleaned every morning, the same.
Well, maybe not completely the same. There was a new, fairly light coffee stain on the counter near the cash register. Noel was sure those praliene cookies were recently added as well (but he hated praliene so he hadn’t really considered it). He was pretty sure the old lady in back had ordered new furniture too, seeing as there were two new, nice-looking beige chairs in place of the ratty, old, shit colored ones from weeks before. And…Nate. He was certainly new. A really nice, chisled sort of new.
The blonde’s cheeks flushed as he considered it. Oh my god. Just…fuck, what do I do? The whole point of being in the closet (for him) was to stay there, for godssakes. Even though he had the inclination to swing either way, he’d chosen to stick to girls for his parent’s sakes, to spare them the embarrassment of their son having a fake identity. He’d never run into this problem before, partially because (and this was a guess) he stayed away from “the gays”- i.e., a rather large crowd of “we’re gay and we’re proud” Pride people who had no idea why some people just wouldn’t leave their nice, furnished closets- though Noel could list reasons off of the top of his head. Either way, if this guy could smell the bisexual on him, he needed to buy better perfume.
I keep thinking of this as a problem, though. This is the opposite of a problem. Maybe having a boyfriend would be nice? A part of him felt rather elated about this incident (and honestly, a bit smug).
Oh, come on. Why do you think getting a girlfriend was so hard? You’re not good at this. This flirting thing. Another part of him nagged.
How can he tell, anyway? That I like guys! Is it stamped on my face? Did I do something so insanely gay that he flocked to me? An anxious bit of him (which counted as at least 50% of him) groaned in agony at the thought of it.
“Noel. Nice. You mind if I sit here with you while I wait for my order?” Nate smiled, his eyes crinkling at their corners.
“I don’t see why not.” He replied, surprising himself. “The table’s pretty big.”
Cue another award-winning smile. “Thanks. So, do you live around here?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” He answered simply. Wait, no, that came off wrong!
Nate seemed a bit startled by this, so he said, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Yes? With your damn face. “Uh, no, no, I…I’m just not used to…” His normally fair cheeks pooled with blood again. “…this.” He sounded tiny.
“This?” Amusement danced across Nate’s features. Ohhh my god, stop that. “You know, I can just sit somewhere else if you want. I don’t want to make you upset or nothin’, man.”
“No!” He came off much louder than he’d intended, his hands releasing both his cup and his curls. “I mean-” Oh, fuck it. “Are you flirting with me?”
A slight chuckle escaped his lips as his elbow pressed to the table, his chin lightly resting on his open palm as he leaned forward a bit. “What gave me away?”
Dangerous. This man was dangerous. Still, he’d admitted to it, meaning…meaning… In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Mother Mary, protect me from evil. Dryly, he said, “You said that thing. The one people say when they’re hitting on someone.” With his best impression of Nate, he mimicked, “’Come here often’?”
