It was hairline guy.
“Hey stud,” the words flew from his mouth so casually. He was in nothing but boxers and was carrying two coffee cups, one green, and one purple. “I hope you like hazelnut. It’s the only creamer flavor I like.”
I was stuck, unable to answer because of two reasons: 1) I also can only drink coffee if I have hazelnut creamer, and 2) abs.
He walked towards the bed and extended the purple cup in my direction. I took the it in my hands and considered what to say next. Carefully, as to not spill his own drink, he climbed up onto the bed and sat down beside me.
“I’m Harrison,” he said. I introduced myself and thanked him for the coffee.
“Hazelnut is my favorite too,” I said and he smiled. “I have to be honest I am not completely sure how I got here.”
“That’s okay,” he said before taking a long sip of his coffee. “You were pretty drunk. Don’t worry though, we didn’t have sex or anything. Just cuddled some.”
Somehow after years of being single and going on horrible dates, I had accidentally fallen into the bed of a man that I would never normally even look at twice for fear of being rejected.
“Oh well, that’s good to hear,” I said almost sarcastically. “I mean, not that I don’t find you attractive. I’m just happy we didn’t have sex because…well, actually,” I stopped and thought about what to say next before my brain melted and I made a complete fool of myself. All I could come up with was, "You make me really nervous.”
He smiled and said, “I can tell. It’s okay. Maybe I should have made you decaf?” I smiled and took a sip of the hazelnut flavored coffee.
“So,” I started hesitantly. “What are your plans for the day?” He set his coffee down on the nightstand. The way he moved so effortlessly, so confidently, so much better than me.
“I have some errands to run today, some shopping to do,” he got up and pulled a plain grey t-shirt over his head and onto his body. “But I am free tonight if you want to grab a drink? Or dinner maybe?”
I had to stop and think about it, and when he saw my eyes widen in surprise he giggled. How did I end up in this situation? This was the guy who last night could barely look me in the eyes, and now I am somehow in his bed, and even further, he wants to spend more time with me?
“How about I give you my number and you can let me know?”
“Sure, that sounds good,” I said hating myself for not being better at this. He walked over to where the flannel he was wearing the night before hung, pulled it down, and threw it towards me.
“Put that on and I’ll drive you home,” He said. “It’s cold this morning and you only have that t-shirt on.”
Later that day I met Becca at our go-to coffee shop. The cafe was actually called “Coffee Shop” and we loved it because of the good music and the even better mochas.
Becca was eager to hear everything. When Harrison dropped me off at my apartment, I had just enough time to change clothes and brush my teeth before she pulled up to go get coffee.
“Nice shirt,” she said as I climbed into the passenger seat of her car. “That looks familiar.” She was smiling because she knew exactly where the cold colored flannel came from.
After we got our coffee, we sat at our normal spot. I told her everything that happened, and since there wasn’t much, we quickly moved on to silently working on our own projects. I sat with my laptop, her with a notepad and pencil.
I had my second cup of coffee and I was finally settled in to get some work done when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Mind if I join you?” A voice asked from behind me. I looked up at Becca who was smiling wide-eyed and then I turned around to see Harrison standing there. He was wearing a baseball cap and my god he looked so good.
“Oh! Hi!” I was stunned. The last person I thought I would see here still looking like a mess from the night before, still wearing his shirt. My cheeks were hot and, of course, I knocked over my coffee.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked as he pulled me in for a hug. I could feel Becca’s excited eyes on me. “I thought you had some errands to run today?”
“It turns out one of my errands involves working on my laptop with a good cup of coffee.” He smiled and my world fell apart.
What was happening to me? Of course, I had never been the most confident person but normally I was not such a bumbling idiot. I apologized to the barista who was tasked to clean the coffee mess I made on the floor, while Becca introduced herself to Harrison and told him to take her seat, that she was headed out.
“Wait..?” I asked. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah,” Becca said. “I have to go home and get ready for work, but I have a feeling you aren’t going to be too lonely.”
She was lying. Saturdays were Becca’s one day off from her serving job. I thought about challenging her, but decided I should take the opportunity to see what Harrison was really looking to get from me. I gave Becca a hug and a smirk and she was on her way.
Harrison and I sat across from each other, both our laptops open. The barista brought me a new cup of coffee and I apologized again.
“So what are you working on?” Harrison asked. I was hesitant on how honest I should be with him. Being a full-time writer is tough to explain, because people either have zero respect for the craft, or they have an obscure idea of what a writer actually does. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m a writer. I’m writing a book.”
“Really!” He said, obviously impressed.
“Yeah, it’s been my life for a couple of years now. What do you do for work?”
“I work in advertising. It’s okay but not at all as interesting as being a writer,” he said with a side eye smirk. “Can I ask you what the book is about?”
My muscles were starting to relax. I could feel myself growing more comfortable with this person. There was something so welcoming about him, so genuine, so gracious. Nothing like the men I normally met. Which why I was slightly embarrassed to respond with, “It’s a series of short stories about some of my horrible experiences with the gay community.”
A point in the conversation where people normally backed up, Harrison leaned in, and that was it. All at once I felt a rush in my body that was giving myself over to him. I was skeptical until then, but now I knew it: I had a crush, and I hoped he had one on me too.
“So is it a memoir then?”
“Well, I have definitely pulled a lot of small details from personal experience, but I have fictionalized it enough that I wouldn’t call any of it actually true.”
“Very interesting,” he took a sip of his coffee. “I can’t wait to read it. I’m legitimately intrigued.”
“Well who knows, maybe you’ll end up inspiring a story.”
We both
