convinced myself I would hear from him after a day or so. As the seconds, minutes, hours passed me by, sadness and anger filled my heart. I barely made it through the days of work with my mind constantly churning over the details. In bed at night, the memory of his touch haunted me to distraction. I had to masturbate just to get some peace and sleep.
While at work, I found a few hours of respite as Tap 42 cranked up. Too busy to think about Tate, I actually enjoyed myself. I even put my flirt on a bit, and my tips reflected it. At the end of the night, I could feel a bit of angst creeping back in, so I helped Stuart close up.
“Want to get a drink?” he asked as we were putting the mugs away in the cooler.
“Oh?” I said, looking up.
He was a decent looking man: curly blond hair, green eyes, medium height with lots of energy. “You know, an alcoholic beverage at another establishment?” he asked, sweeping his hand in front of all the liquor bottles like a model on a game show.
“I’ve found that work and play don’t mix well together.”
“It’s just a drink,” he insisted with a cheeky smile.
“Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”
“It’s that big guy with the long hair, right?”
“Huh?” I handed over the last of the mugs.
“When I saw him, I figured I missed my chance.”
I threw the towel I held into the laundry bin. “He’s nobody. Listen, is it okay if I take off?”
“Yeah, see you next week.”
“Thanks.”
Rain poured down around me as I struggled with the driver’s side door. “Crap. What the fu…” I became exasperated and climbed in through the passenger door.
When I arrived at my apartment, I rummaged in my bag for the key and slid it home. A large manila envelope fell in when I pushed the door open. I picked it up, examined it, and dropped it on the kitchen table. My cold, wet clothes needed to come off and then straight to the shower with me. A fret began to roil in my stomach. I assumed, with some trepidation, that the envelope had come from Tate and it held my chapter. I took the fastest shower of my life, wrapped myself in a towel, and ran back to the kitchen table. I raised the metal clasps and shook out the contents. The first chapter of Soul Adjacent , creased in the middle, fell out along with several Post-Its covering the title page, a business card for auto repair, and a folded note.
Before I had a chance to read anything, my phone vibrated.
Bond: Are you coming tonight?
Me: No, I don’t think so.
Bond: Come on, Blue. We don’t have to have sex. We can talk.
Me: About?
Bond: What we’re going to do. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted or I’m ashamed of you. That’s totally wrong.
Me: I just got home from work. Let me eat something and then I’ll let you know.
Bond: Okay.
I decided to make a turkey sandwich as a way of procrastinating before reading the envelope contents. Sitting back down with the plate, I opened his note, taking in his left-handed slant.
Blue,
I’m sorry for my departure. It became too much, and I just had to get out of there. There’s no excuse for leaving you like that. I’ve never done anything so flawed.
I’d like to see you again, but I feel like I need to lay it all out there. Not the past, I’m not willing to share that, but what I’m capable of and not. I will say that nothing and no one has ever felt like it does with you. Nothing even remotely close. And we’ve barely scratched the surface of our mutual sexuality. That’s what I can offer, but I’d prefer to discuss it in person.
“I’m sure you would,” I said aloud and continued reading.
Either way, I hope we can stay in touch.
I read your chapter and enjoyed the start of the story. I think it reads a bit clunky in present tense and in my notes, I make suggestions about changing over to first-person past tense. You should definitely keep at it.
Tate
Underneath, in pencil it read:
I waited here for
While at work, I found a few hours of respite as Tap 42 cranked up. Too busy to think about Tate, I actually enjoyed myself. I even put my flirt on a bit, and my tips reflected it. At the end of the night, I could feel a bit of angst creeping back in, so I helped Stuart close up.
“Want to get a drink?” he asked as we were putting the mugs away in the cooler.
“Oh?” I said, looking up.
He was a decent looking man: curly blond hair, green eyes, medium height with lots of energy. “You know, an alcoholic beverage at another establishment?” he asked, sweeping his hand in front of all the liquor bottles like a model on a game show.
“I’ve found that work and play don’t mix well together.”
“It’s just a drink,” he insisted with a cheeky smile.
“Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”
“It’s that big guy with the long hair, right?”
“Huh?” I handed over the last of the mugs.
“When I saw him, I figured I missed my chance.”
I threw the towel I held into the laundry bin. “He’s nobody. Listen, is it okay if I take off?”
“Yeah, see you next week.”
“Thanks.”
Rain poured down around me as I struggled with the driver’s side door. “Crap. What the fu…” I became exasperated and climbed in through the passenger door.
When I arrived at my apartment, I rummaged in my bag for the key and slid it home. A large manila envelope fell in when I pushed the door open. I picked it up, examined it, and dropped it on the kitchen table. My cold, wet clothes needed to come off and then straight to the shower with me. A fret began to roil in my stomach. I assumed, with some trepidation, that the envelope had come from Tate and it held my chapter. I took the fastest shower of my life, wrapped myself in a towel, and ran back to the kitchen table. I raised the metal clasps and shook out the contents. The first chapter of Soul Adjacent , creased in the middle, fell out along with several Post-Its covering the title page, a business card for auto repair, and a folded note.
Before I had a chance to read anything, my phone vibrated.
Bond: Are you coming tonight?
Me: No, I don’t think so.
Bond: Come on, Blue. We don’t have to have sex. We can talk.
Me: About?
Bond: What we’re going to do. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted or I’m ashamed of you. That’s totally wrong.
Me: I just got home from work. Let me eat something and then I’ll let you know.
Bond: Okay.
I decided to make a turkey sandwich as a way of procrastinating before reading the envelope contents. Sitting back down with the plate, I opened his note, taking in his left-handed slant.
Blue,
I’m sorry for my departure. It became too much, and I just had to get out of there. There’s no excuse for leaving you like that. I’ve never done anything so flawed.
I’d like to see you again, but I feel like I need to lay it all out there. Not the past, I’m not willing to share that, but what I’m capable of and not. I will say that nothing and no one has ever felt like it does with you. Nothing even remotely close. And we’ve barely scratched the surface of our mutual sexuality. That’s what I can offer, but I’d prefer to discuss it in person.
“I’m sure you would,” I said aloud and continued reading.
Either way, I hope we can stay in touch.
I read your chapter and enjoyed the start of the story. I think it reads a bit clunky in present tense and in my notes, I make suggestions about changing over to first-person past tense. You should definitely keep at it.
Tate
Underneath, in pencil it read:
I waited here for
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