Page 13 of More Than a Match

“Do you trust me?” he asks again, this time his voice low and soft against my neck.

I decide I do, and step forward blindly. He guides me gently from behind, his hands still over my eyes. After a few steps we stop, and he turns me to my left, uncovering my eyes. “Presenting the potty,” he quips, reaching around me and flipping on the light.

Much like the rest of the apartment, it is sparse, with minimal personal effects inside. There’s a toothbrush and toothpaste, a razor, a comb, some deodorant, and a bottle of hair pomade on the counter. In the reflection of the mirror I can see the shower behind me, with a simple black shower curtain and a towel rack with a single towel.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just outside getting changed. Take your time.”

I watch him retreat out of the bathroom and then turn to face myself in the mirror. I didn’t actually have to pee, I was just trying to get him to show me his room, which I had conveniently missed due to him covering my eyes. If I walk out now, he’ll call my bluff. Let him think I’m actually peeing.

I flip on the sink and let it run for a minute, taking the time to fix my hair. I reach over and flush the toilet, then wash my hands for good measure, drying them on the towel hanging next to the shower. I take the opportunity to peek behind the shower curtain.

There’s a single bottle of men’s body wash, and a bottle of combination shampoo and conditioner. A washcloth hangs from the water handle. All in all, it reflects what the rest of the apartment does: necessities only. No luxury.He obviously doesn’t spend much time here, I realize. I haven’t seen one piece of art on the walls, or anything to really imply this place is truly lived-in. It feels more like a hotel than a home.

I double check my appearance in the mirror one more time before calling through the door. “Hey, is it ok if I come out now?”

“Yeah, come on out.”

I tentatively open the door, holding my breath.Here it is.I’m about to see his room. I don’t know why I’m feeling anxious about this, but I am.

There’s a queen-sized bed in the center of the wall next to the door. There’s a TV mounted on the wall across from the bed, and a small dresser below it. All of this takes about 3 seconds to notice before my gaze is drawn to Alex. He’s wearing jeans and is buttoning up a soft-looking aqua shirt with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. He pauses his buttoning when he catches me staring.

“I’ll be ready in a minute, let me just finish with these buttons and I’ll grab my shoes and we can head out.

That little tickle between my legs is a fire now, begging to be doused. I step out of the bathroom toward him.

“Feel like ordering in instead?”

He hesitates for a moment, then smiles at me. “Normally I’d say yes. But this is our first real date, so I’d like to take you somewhere nice.”

I try to hide my disappointment. “That makes sense.”

“But if you want, we can come back here after, maybe watch a movie or something? If you’re not too tired, that is.”

My mood is immediately restored. “That sounds great.”

“Perfect. I know a great little Thai place right up the road, good atmosphere, excellent Pad Thai and Moo Satay, if you’re into that.”

My stomach grumbles and I realize that I’m quite hungry. “That sounds delicious. I’m in.”

Dinner was, as promised, absolutely divine. The food arrived quickly, and the restaurant was relatively quiet, allowing for conversation to flow. During our meal I learned that Alex had no immediate family, and he was raised here in the city in the foster care system. Since he aged out, he’s been working odd jobs to make ends meet, and has been at the hospital for about six months. Prior to the hospital, he worked for a few years with the Waste Management Company and views the janitorial job as a major upgrade.

I shared a little about my life as well, mainly about my strict upbringing and the way my parents continue to try and micromanage my life. It became clear to me very quickly that we come from two very different worlds, but it didn’t seem to matter to either of us.

The conversation never slowed or grew stale, and by the time the check came, we were in tears from laughing so hard. I was pleased to discover that we have a similar sense of humor, and many of the same interests. Despite our differences, a tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind that this could actually work out and be more than a fling.God, I hope so.

As the waiter places the check on the table, I reach into my clutch for my wallet.

“No, this one’s on me,” Alex says. “It’s our first date, and I’m going to do it right.”

“Wow, you sound so old-fashioned,” I quip.

“You can get the next one, if you want,” he says. “No pressure though.”

“Alright, it’s a deal,” I agree.

He pays and as we stand up to leave, he offers me his arm, which I gladly take. We stroll back to his car in comfortable silence, enjoying the mild Fall weather.

He opens my car door for me and as I sink into my seat, he asks, “You still up for a movie back at my place?”

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