Beggars, I reminded myself, could not be choosers.I clicked the machine on, its little amber light flickering slightly as the heating element began to crackle.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I re-read his messages.My brain automatically reaching for the worst-case scenario, the most uncomfortable.Flynn furious that I’d not spoken up last night, called an end to the whole encounter when I’d realized he was sitting in the corner.Disgusted by my willingness to still go through with it, to hook up with some stranger who’d propositioned me on an app.
They were ridiculous, far-fetched fears, I knew that even as I summoned them like looming bogeymen.Not like there was anything stopping Flynn from protesting, when he’d seen me walk into their bedroom.Not like he’d been unaware that his boyfriend was hunting down eager participants for a one-night stand.
Somehow, dismissing the obvious horrors only made me feel worse.
“I don’t know if meeting is a good idea,” I tapped out; hit reply.The little padlock symbol in the corner said that our comments on the payment were private, for our eyes only, and yet it still felt weirdly risky to be documenting them like this.I just wasn’t sure I was ready to give Flynn my actual number.
He, apparently, was further down that line of thought than I was.I stared at the string of digits, annoyed as much as curious.
“Why?”I texted him.
“Easier than in that app,” Flynn replied.
I rolled my eyes at the screen.“No, why do you want to meet?”
It took a while for his answer to pop up.Longer, certainly, than the three words which finally arrived would warrant.
“We should talk.”
I could keep protesting, holding him at arm’s length without quite telling him to go fuck himself.Or, I could yank out the splinter in one, quick go.
“Not at your apartment,” I said.
He sent the maps link for a cafe, and I stared at it until the screen went dim, and then completely black.
#
The coffee the machinehad spat out had been acrid, and somehow both unpleasantly strong while also not quite strong enough, but I still made myself drink half a mug before setting out.Wanting - no, needing - the caffeine, hoping it would slice through the unease that’d settled across my brain like a cloying fog.
That feeling had only built in the shower, as I scrubbed the dried cum off my crotch, and then further as I’d pulled clean clothes out of my duffle.Annoyed at myself, too, for first wondering what outfit I should wear, and then realizing I was doing that because it would be Flynn I was seeing.
It was less than a five minute walk from the hotel, but he was already standing outside when I got there.Looking frustratingly slick in a dark blue sweater - the neck cut low enough to expose his collarbones - and gray pants.
I grit my teeth, telling myself that he warranted nothing more than my blue jeans and scruffy hoodie.It’d been red, before its many trips through the laundry.Now, the color was as softened as the cotton it was made from.
Flynn looked up, expectantly.
“I need coffee,” I said, not pausing as I pushed at the door.
He trailed in my wake, mercifully silent.A half-step behind me as I joined the short line for the counter; only speaking when we reached the front and, after giving my order, I flashed him an impatient glance.
“Just an Americano, please.”
I paid for both, before he had a chance to.
We picked chairs as distant from everyone else as possible, by unspoken accord.Not that the place was busy; most people seemed to be taking their drinks to-go.I sipped my cup of black filter, wishing I’d thought to grab some sugar.Still, it was leagues ahead of the slop from the hotel room’s machine.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” Flynn said, after we’d sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
“You suggested the cafe,” I pointed out, eyebrow raised.
He made a face, one that said he knew I was being intentionally obtuse, but he didn’t feel like he could call me out on it.“Last night, I meant.”
I nodded, slowly.
“I didn’t know you...”Flynn’s voice trailed off.