A Daddy for Alexi by Joe Satoria

4. WARREN

FRIDAY

I met Alexi again yesterday. He seemed to open up a little more. He was easy to talk to, and he had a gorgeous smile when he did. I caught his eye a couple of times across the table.

And again, we met up, and I was already beginning to feel strange and annoyed that I wouldn’t get to see him over the weekend.

“Ok, so you know the idea you mentioned yesterday,” I began, setting the tray on the table at the coffee shop. He didn’t seem too shy about immediately pressing his finger into the squirty cream of his mocha and licking it off.

“The one about the food festival?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, well, Marcus said it was a great idea. He said the city council had mentioned the food festival for small businesses and he totally passed the idea by because he doesn’t do food.” I was quite excited about it. There was a lot to do and a lot to plan. It was also a great way to be out in the city. “He even asked who had the idea—and—”

“Oh, no, no.”

“I—” In his eyes, I could see the trepidation, I could see there was something akin to fear. He didn’t want the recognition. He didn’t even want anyone to know about these coffee dates. “I told him it was someone I’d been going for lunch with.”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“He asked me if it was a lunch date,” I answered, grinning at him across the table.

“Date?” he clutched at himself. “I’m—uh—”

“Fuck.” I couldn’t look at him. I’d made a fool of myself. I was trying to feel him out for his current situation, and I wanted to know if he was single. He had to have been queer. At least, all the signs I’d seen said as much. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I finally said, breaking the silence.

“It’s—it’s ok,” he answered. “I’m just—”

“You’re dating someone, probably. That makes sense, everyone is dating someone these days. Situationships or whatever.”

“No, I’m—no, I’m not dating anyone.”

So he wasn’t gay? “We should go back to talking about the meeting I had, and I think—I think—” oh gosh, now even I was stuttering my way through, and I knew I was very forthright and confident in all situations. Alexi was suddenly my kryptonite. “Well, Marcus said it was a good idea. I know you might not have wanted your name attached, but I did mention it would be great to have someone from customer services there.”

I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He was looking around and he was trying not to make eye contact. In fact, he was trying to look at anyone else in the coffee shop, other than me.

“I’m still—I’m still thinking of quitting,” he mentioned, softly. It was the third time he’d brought it up. The first time was Wednesday, then yesterday, and again today.

“Because of—”

“Not you,” he immediately responded to my train of thought. “I’m not a good fit.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You have great ideas. You’re intelligent. I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He nodded. “It’s not that. But I’m not someone who does what you do. I don’t—I can’t—” his eyes shifty as he continued to look around, worried we were being listened to, I imagined.

I sipped on the latte, looking across at him as he sighed. “I have a question.”

He smiled for a moment, looking at me. “One question.”

I nodded. “Is that all I get?”

“Yes,” he said, snickering. “And you just used it.”

I clicked my tongue, grinning at his humour. “Well, what are you doing this weekend?”

He shrugged.

“I’m sure you’re busy. You strike me as a busy man,” I said.

“I could say the same for you.” He hummed, wiggling his brows.

As Alexi reached for the coffee cup, I noticed a small pink ribbon on his wrist. Reaching out for it, his hand flinched. He covered the ribbon with his shirt sleeve. He looked uncomfortable, sat on the chair, his chin to his chest.

“What is it?” I asked.

Slowly, he pressed his hand across the table. “I—I found it on—on a box.”

“It’s a nice colour for you.” I ran my finger across the side of his hand. “You like nice things?”

He brushed a long hair framing his cheek behind an ear. “It’s nice, yeah.” He blushed.

“So, are you going to avoid my other question? What are your plans tonight?”

Alexi pulled his hand away, clutched at his chest. “Probably playing video games. I’ve been playing this farm game.” He looked at me briefly. “It sounds silly—”

“No, no,” I said, wanting to reach for his hand again. He was precious. I wanted to wrap him in my arms. “I don’t have plans. But I do like video games.”

“Nice, well—”

“And I live alone.”

“That’s—”

“Do you want to play with me?”

We locked eyes, his beautiful eyes blinked wildly. “I—um—”

That was more than one question. I wondered if he was going to give me a straightforward answer or not.

“What if I give you my number?” I said, “or social media? I tried to find you, you know, but there’s no Alexi Drake online.”

He hummed, squinting at me for a moment. “My game is very demanding. I don’t want my farm to have too much overgrowth.”

I clicked my tongue again, patting a hand at my chest. “I thought I told you, I’m an excellent farm hand. I’m like level 99.”

“Well,” he giggled, “you don’t really level like that, but you can text me.” He reached into the small backpack he’d snuggled on his knee. It was a pale blue, like the chipped colour on his nails.

“Maybe I can make you something to eat as well,” I suggested. “Maybe not a sandwich though.” I nodded to the half of the sandwich cut for him on the tray. But perhaps a cream puff, he liked those.

Alexi pulled out a pastel purple phone covering. It was shaped like a bear. I couldn’t deny him that he had a vibe, a look, and how much he hated to wear those sweaters. If he had to be put into a box, he’d be a soft boy. I imagined him dressed in my dinosaur onesie, making dinosaur sounds.

“Ok,” he said, tapping his fingertips against the back of his phone case. “What’s your number?”

After giving him my number, I took another sip of my latte. The art completely destroyed now. “I had another question, actually.”

“It’s like an off-brand Care Bear. I did have a Totoro one, but I got a new phone, and it doesn’t fit,” he said, his fingers tapping against the casing.

“It’s a nice colour,” I said. “When we make plans, you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

He hunched his shoulders, pulling at the fabric of the shirt. “One of the reasons I’d quit,” he said, “I like—”

Sipping the coffee, I waited for him to finish his sentence. I doubted he would. He did that often. Almost like he got a whiff of confidence and then it disappearing with a finger snap.

“Tonight?” I asked.

“Tonight?”

I nodded. “I’m free. But maybe you’d feel more comfortable talking later.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Is this so you can get more amazing ideas for your job?”

“One of the reasons,” I chuckled, but it wasn’t. More than anything, I wanted him to open up, and he wasn’t going to do that here. He was like a wrapped box, and I was slowly opening him, like the ribbon on his wrist. I was pulling at the contents, trying to find out what was going on inside his head.

He pulled the cup to his face, getting whipped cream on the tip of his nose. He blushed. He was so adorable, and he was melting me. I felt far detached from the stress of Marcus around him.

I reached out to his face with a napkin. This time he allowed my hand to reach him. With the napkin at my thumb, I wiped the cream from his nose. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” he snickered.

“You have a cute smile,” I said, wondering if now I was coming on too strong. He didn’t seem to smile for anyone. At least, the times I’d walked by him in secret earlier today and yesterday, he was always focused on the monitor of his computer, always somewhat detached.

He sipped at the mocha. This time as he pulled it away there was a small moustache of cream on his upper lip. “Do you want me to get that?” I asked. I wondered if he was half-waiting for me to wipe his face again with the napkin. Instead, seconds later, he stuck his tongue out and licked it away. “All done, I guess.” I chuckled.

Alexi Drake was a mystery, and I wanted to pour myself over him like a blanket—or a nice gin over ice.