Better Than Good by Lane Hayes

really adorable.
    “How old are you again?”
    “You are not supposed to ask a girl questions like that!” He scolded in true camp fashion. I caught on that this was an act, so I lifted a brow, encouraging him to answer. “Fine. I’m twenty-eight.”
    The waitress set our omelets in front of us. Aaron stopped her to ask a medley of questions ranging from a request for hot sauce to what color her lip gloss was. She, too, was thoroughly charmed when she left to do his bidding.
    “Why was that so hard? Twenty-eight is young.” I looked into his eyes. “Well, young-ish.”
    “You did not just say that! I am well aware that the big three-oh is looming! No need to add salt to the wound!”
    I laughed out loud. He was hamming it up, and yet I could see that a part of him was at least partially serious about the age thing. I couldn’t help teasing him a little more.
    “You’re much older than me, then. Four years.”
    “I know what you’re doing, and I won’t rise to the bait. Yes, I’m older than you by four measly years, which really just means that I’m wiser.”
    “No doubt.” I smiled at him and he grinned back at me. I held the connection as long as I could.
    I was beginning to wonder how long I could remain in the “just friends” mode with Aaron. I wanted him. I was physically attracted to him for sure (the hard-on I had throughout breakfast alone was proof of that), but I also sincerely enjoyed being with him. I had to figure out how to make him want me in return. I thought maybe he was attracted to me. The problem was that he was very wary. I wondered if he’d had a bad breakup or was just not comfortable with the bi thing. This wasn’t going to be easy.
    As we walked back toward my apartment after breakfast, Aaron chattered about everything from the cupcake store at the corner (“The lines are insane, but the coconut may just be worth the wait.”) to a passerby’s lack of winter gear (obvious out-of-towner). He was quick-witted and funny. His expressions were hysterical at times, and his hands moved in time with his stories. I had really enjoyed his company, and I was reluctant to say good-bye.
    He stopped at a small black BMW parked in front of my place.
    “Well, this is me. I need to get home, grab a shower, and….”
    “When can I see you again?” Alarm warred with amusement on his expressive face, and I took a second to, again, appreciate how fucking pretty he was. “I mean, as friends.” I didn’t want to add that last part, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t bolt.
    “Friends. Well, I don’t know, Matt. You know I like to run and go to clubs. I like shopping too, but that look on your face tells me you wouldn’t make a fun shopping partner. I know you like sports, but you’re out of luck with me there. I know you love music, and you’re very good, by the way. You can always invite me to a show. But….”
    “Shopping isn’t horrible. I could go shopping with you.” Yeah, he saw through me right away and held up his hand, laughing.
    “Puh-leaze… I can see it now. Ten minutes at Barneys and you’d be crawling out of your skin. But, if you want… well, I mean, if you were interested….”
    “What already?”
    “There is a photography exhibit at a small gallery off Dupont Circle and….”
    “Sure! When?” Desperate much?
    Aaron laughed at my exuberance. “It’s Thursday night. It’s a small exhibit. We wouldn’t have to stay for the whole thing, but I said I’d go.”
    “Cool. I like photography. So, can I pick you up? Do you want to grab dinner after? If you can, I mean.”
    “Yes. That sounds nice, Matty. Okay, friend, it’s a date!”
    Affection comes more easily to some than others. I wasn’t surprised when Aaron leaned forward to plant a very platonic kiss on my cheek. I was pretty sure I surprised him when I turned quickly to intercept his lips with my own. His eyes remained open, but he didn’t pull back right away. His lips were as sweet as I